Semper Vigilo
by CunkToad
Summary: Due to a drive core malfunction, a human vessel arrives just in time to save the Council Envoy from the yahg. What happens when humanity enters the galactic stage not as the race that got attacked by the turians for breaking a law they weren't aware of, but as the race that saved a turian platoon from certain death? M for wartime violence, pre ME1 - ME3, no OP humanity.
1. FUBAR

**Chapter 1. FUBAR**

* * *

 **2125 CE (Citadel Era), Orbit around Parnack, CSS N'vas Thelo**

"This is too risky," the turian voice flanged in the command module of the survey ship, drawing the attention of those around him in the process as they wondered why the person in charge of their security detail was growing more frustrated with each word. "I'm responsible for your safety Ambassador T'Laá and I can't guarantee that you'll be safe down there. I don't have enough men to protect you from a race that is on the verge of space flight. Especially one like them."

"I appreciate your concern Lieutenant Aventius," the asari replied in her much smoother voice, the stark contrast in their behaviour more than evident,"but you have to have a little faith in these creatures."

The image of the tall, eight-eyed creature came up on the monitor. Its mouth was split into three parts and lined with dozens of razor sharp teeth. The reddish skin around its face looked like it could stop small-calibre rounds and the muscles leading up to his neck suggested that it was far stronger than the turian himself. A short study period had revealed that the jungle world below them was still split among dozens of nations and if the few broadcasts they had picked up were any indication, most of them were hostile to their neighbours or anything they considered foreign. While they hadn't found any signs that would suggest an ongoing conflict on the world, one of the factors that would forbid the survey vessel to establish contact, he had seen the scans of the nation they intended to contact.

One did not maintain this many weapons if he trusted his neighbours not to attack him.

None of these facts inspired confidence in the lieutenant. He hard served on the frontlines of the continued fight against slavers and pirates for years and he had been there to put down separatists in the Hierarchy's outer colonies time and again yet for the first time in his twenty years of service, he did not believe that his unit was up for the task, a rare occasion for any turian officer. He knew that the ambassador had been ordered to find a new race to bring into the fold some time ago and that the political pressure of those who had put her in charge of this mission was increasing with every day she failed to deliver results but he had never expected her to become this reckless. It wasn't just his unit that was at stake here.

"I am certain that we will be able to talk with them on a civilized level. After all, they are reasonably enlightened," the asari argued, doing her best to sound condescending. "Otherwise they never would've reached this point of technological development. Cooperation and peace are necessary for a race to reach for the stars."

That was simply not true.

"Forgive me of not trusting creatures that could probably tear me and anyone on this ship into pieces," he placed his hands on his face, covering parts of the green facial marks that decorated his reddish-brown plates."First contacts are dangerous as things are but this? This is beyond irresponsible. I'm sorry Ambassador but I can't allow this."

"Lieutenant, you are my security advisor, not my superior," the asari countered in a tone unusually coarse for a diplomat, something that drew the attention of most people in the command module. "I value your input but this is my decision, not yours," she started to walk away, leaving Aventius behind her. "Prepare a ground team. Don't bring any heavy ordnance. I'll establish contact in an hour and land in the morning." The door shut behind her and Aventius clenched his teeth, well aware of the people looking at him.

"Spirits, what did I do to deserve this post?" he whispered angrily as he too headed for the elevator, taking care to appear unaffected in the process. There was no need to worry the crew, even if more than enough of them had already witnessed the disagreement between their supposed leader and him. He had told the ambassador that their undertaking was dangerous and she had very openly told him that she didn't care about his opinion, granted she had phrased it far nicer than that, but the crew wasn't stupid. They had to have picked up on it.

"Why do asari always have to be like this?" he wondered as he hit the button that brought him to the crew deck. After a short while, much quicker than on the Citadel, the elevator doors opened and he moved to the side to allow those inside to leave before entering the cabin, a basic act of politeness he rarely saw anywhere these days. He stepped inside and just as the doors were about to close, he heard quick footsteps close in on him to the right, causing him to extend his arm to keep the elevator from closing. Shortly afterwards a purple figure turned around the corner, looking slightly winded but visibly grateful. The asari crew member entered the cabin and let out a long breath.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she smiled as she leaned against the railing within the elevator.

"Where do you have to go?" he asked as one of his fingers hovered over the display."

"Crew deck."

As their destinations appeared to be the same, he gave a quick nod before the doors once more began to close, this time not being interrupted by him. He was ready to enjoy the trip in the silence that had begun to settle when his earlier worries were confirmed.

"You really think it's dangerous?" he heard from behind him a few moments later just as the digital numbers began to indicate their descend. He now realised that he shouldn't have interrupted the doors. This was a conversation he'd rather not have.

"These things always are," Aventius deflected. "That's why I'm here."

"It sounded like you were more than just worried," the purple alien replied in a serious voice. "Beyond irresponsible," she quoted him as he made a note never to be this vocal about his concerns in front of that many subordinates ever again. Not working with turians had made him loose, he realised that now. Now he needed to conduct damage control.

"It's true, I am worried. The creatures we're about to contact seem very dangerous,"he began, deciding to lift the asari's morale. "But my men will do the best to ensure the safety of anyone aboard this vessel. It's our duty after all. Rest assured, we won't allow any creature, no matter how intimidating or how advanced it might be, to harm the Council or those that serve it."

A quick nod from the crew member told him that he had achieved his intent and mercifully the elevator doors opened shortly afterwards, leaving the asari's mind at ease and more importantly the chance of her spreading her worry among the crew reduced. He waited for her to be on her way and turned right towards the barracks of the turian security platoon stationed on the first contact vessel. His footsteps echoed through the still empty white hallways of the vessel as its night rotation was about to start, meaning that most of the well over two hundred souls aboard would soon pour into the area to rest. He came to a halt in front of the biggest room of the crew deck and opened the door. As he walked in one of his Sergeants, Bassus, a tall turian with blue facial markings on top of his otherwise black plates, stood up.

"Attention on deck!" the entirety of thirty turians rose in unity and snapped to attention, dropping everything they had been doing in an instant.

"At ease," Aventius declared and the soldiers did as they were ordered. The officer turned towards Bassus, his second in command, and began to talk. "I couldn't convince the ambassador, we're landing tomorrow."

"She's really lost it then," the sergeant sighed as he waved the other three NCOs in the room towards them, his intentions clear. They needed to prepare if they wanted to even stand a chance at protecting the crew of the N'vas Thelo.

"We're going in then," the silver plated turian with red facial marks, Paetus, muttered as he was the first to join their improvised briefing.

"About time we get something to do," a bigger turian said upon his own arrival. One could really see why Serranus was the one in charge of the heavy weapons aboard the N'vas Thelo.

"I for one enjoyed the downtime," the last sergeant argued. Castus had always been on the relaxed side, for a turian at least.

"Alright, the bad news first," Aventius began, "Ambasssador T'Laá has given us some severe restrictions in an attempt to ensure peaceful contact. Light weapons only, so your heavy weapons squad is grounded, sorry Serranus." the disappointment on the sergeant's face was evident as his grey mandible dropped. "As for the rest of you, we'll be providing security for the asari envoy with Phaestons and Mantis rifles. Bassus I want you to pack demolition charges. It might hurt her 'no heavy ordnance rule' but T'Laá doesn't have to know. The packs are small and she probably doesn't even know what they look like. Take as many as you can carry, hopefully we wont need them."

A quick nod from his second in command was all he needed to go on, his golden eyes turning to another of the four turians standing in front of him, coming to a halt on one of the patches attached to Paetus' grey uniform, it's stylized version of a turian eye representing the completion of one of the hardest specializations within the turian military.

"Paetus your team will be with us as well. I want your snipers to cover us from far back. Depending on our landing zone it might not be possible for your men to get the ideal distance between them and the targets so be prepared to adapt to that," the sniper simply grunted in agreement as the lieutenant addressed the final member of the platoon's leadership. "Castus you'll stay with the heavy weapons squad. If something goes bad you'll hit the distress signal and make sure that the N'vas Thelo doesn't fall into enemy hands," he finished as his squad leaders looked at him, the implications of his last statement clear to all of them. "Any questions or objections?"

There was a moment of silence, the weight of what may happen tomorrow resting on all of their shoulders. None spoke up even if they had good reason to do so.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow morning in gear. Brief your men and get some rest," he ordered as the four turians snapped to attention, offering a sharp salute before beginning to head towards his own bunk. He needed to be well rested as well.

* * *

"The signal has been sent and they are receiving us Ambassador T'Laá," the young maiden at the control terminal said, the excitement in her voice causing a slight quiver. She understood her, it was a historic occurrence to be part of a first contact.

"Good. Run their reply to the translation matrix and open up a channel," T'Laá replied in a soothing voice. "The council has been waiting for new suitable clients for centuries," she straightened her clothes,"the time to deliver them has come."

"Yes, ambassador," the maiden replied as a noise informed her that the message was already translated, was their language really that simple?

"What did they say?" she asked as her head turned towards the maiden tasked with technical assistance during this event.

"It's merely a frequency to a communication channel to a location at the edge of their territory," the maiden replied. "Do you want me to dial in the frequency?"

"Yes. Can we get an unobstructed visual link as well?" she questioned and for good reason, not evey civilization of their level of development was capable of something as simple as an live optical feed without periods of delay.

"Yes, Ambassador T'Laá," her assistance confirmed much to her surprise as she hit a button on the terminal in front of her. The image of one of the creatures, yahg as they called themselves, appeared on screen, its eight eyes staring down at her in silence, the sharp set of teeth she knew they possessed hidden behind their strangely shaped mouth and his voice as she had expected absent. She knew that the alien waited for her to begin talking, most likely too awed to speak or too afraid to mutter wrong words.

"Greetings," T'Laá smiled to ease its mind."I am Ambassador T'Laá of the Citadel Council. I presume you are a leading politician of your people?" she took in the creature, which to her was visually displeasing. Of course centuries of being a diplomat had taught her not to let that show. She couldn't let superficial emotions endanger this meeting.

"I am Shehu, leader of the United Clans of Gure. The nation you established contact with," the creature's voice was deep and there was an unusal tone accompanying its every word, comparable yet completely different from the flanging accompanying a turian's speech, "as I have learned from your information package you are part of a council made up of several alien races, correct?"

"Yes, that is correct," she nodded before elaborating. "The Citadel Council aims to enable peace and cooperation in the entire galaxy and I stand ready to answer any question you may have about us or the races we share the galaxy with."

"You voiced the wish of meeting on the sacred grounds of our home world, correct?" the yahg simply asked, forgoing any questions into the galactic community just revealed to it. Maybe they simply liked to discuss these things in person. "I can arrange for that under certain conditions."

"That would be much appreciated. We will accept whatever conditions you ask of us. We are here to greet you as a possible ally to our Council and as such we will try to make this meeting as comfortable to you as possible," T'Laá replied, once more trying to ease the tension she suspected to be building up within the creature.

"I will send you a set of coordinates, you can bring your envoy and no more than ten guards. We will greet you in equal numbers on one of our airfields," the yahg ended the transmission with a surprisingly authoritarian tone.

"I did not expect that he would just cut the feed like that," the maiden noted with a curious voice.

"That was indeed very unusual. Has the set of coordinates arrived yet?" the elder asari asked with a calm voice, choosing not to address the worries of the technician for now. There were bigger concerns at the moment.

"Yes, they arrived the moment the words left his mouth. They seem to be a very organized people."

"Or simply more advanced than we thought they'd be."

"Message Lieutenant Aventius to meet me at once, there are several things we need to discuss," Ambassador T'Laá instructed, she knew that the turian was probably sleeping right about now but she needed him to be informed of his limitations. Knowing him and his kind, he'd love to descend on these creatures with a legion's worth of troops and an orbital force ready to bombard their cities into the ground. For all their contribution to the galaxy's peace, turians made sorry diplomats. But to their credit they were very much punctual. Not three minutes after she had called for him, the officer came marching through the door and she played him the log of the conversation that had just taken place without him.

"No," his voice flanged, the interrupted sleep presenting itself as annoyance in his tone. "Ten guards? You did catch the part where I said that one of those beasts could rip me in half, right?"

"They're not beasts, they're individuals like you and I," she corrected him. "Once more Lieutenant Aventius, this isn't a request, it's an order. You will not jeopardize this meeting by being too turian for your own good. I won't allow you to ruin our first impression by a failed attempt at intimidation," the asari warned him as the face of the reddish-brown alien shifted into an expression she hadn't expected to see. Apparently he wasn't as disciplined as he let others think.

"Too turian? You are being too reckless!" he countered angrily. "I have held this in for days due to respect for my assignment and the chain of command but I can no longer allow you to endanger everyone on board of this vessel and by extension everyone in Council space by just landing on a technologically developed world capable of reverse engineering our technology without any backup!" he very nearly snarled, his mandibles pressing themselves closer to his mouth.

"This is not your decision. Either you do as you are ordered or I will have you removed of your command," she said, stressing her threat with a special emphasis before once more switching into a very polite voice. "Will you do as you are instructed?"

A silence rested in the room and Aventius was evidently fighting with himself. If she had to take a guess the turian in him told him that he had to respect the chain of command but his anger and apparent tendency to insubordination were conflicting with that.

Then, after a few more minutes, he made a decision.

"As you wish, Ambassador T'Laá," he snapped to attention and headed for his room, leaving the asari victorious.

* * *

 **The Next Morning, Armory of the N'vas Thelo**

After he looked at his platoon he turned to Sergeant Bassus. "Ten guards and I want you to command them. Pick the best eight turians of the platoon and brief them," he addressed the turian, his expression displaying his worry for only the fraction of a moment. Aventius turned to the thirty turians standing in neat rows in front of him and raised his voice.

"As for the rest of you. You will remain on the ship, ready to lift off or assist us at a moments notice. We might not like the terms of the mission ahead of us, we might not agree with it's purpose but we are turians. We do as we are ordered and we commit to our duty of protecting those who won't protect themselves," he stood a little taller at the sound of his own words. Not only his platoon needed to hear this. "I want a clean run. We all get to go home after this tour so let's earn this. For the Hierarchy."

"For the Hierarchy!" it echoed through the armory as his platoon snapped to attention. He returned turned the salute and the turians started last checks of their equipment just as Bassus began collecting his chosen.

Aventius ran the diagnostics on his armor as the green lights flashing on his omni-tool informed him that power was running through the suit exactly like it was supposed to. He lifted his Phaeston and checked the heat sink, finding it to be in perfect condition, and took a quick look at the Carnifex pistol on his hip, if it could kill a krogan, it would kill a yahg. Everything was in working order and by the book.

Unlike the meeting that was about to happen.

As the ship shook he realized that they had just entered the atmosphere of the planet and started to head for the hangar ramp. His soldiers following him to the stairway, the sound of a platoon of turians marching in step appearing like music to his ears. He set foot into the hanger the same moment the envoy, a salarian, the sole representative of his race on the vessel, Ambassador T'Laá and the turian official, left the elevator, only the member of his own race feeling the need to give him a respectful nod.

"Atmosphere breathable, pressure ideal," a synthetic voice announced what they already knew.

"Ready for this Sergeant?" he asked Bassus as he pulled his helmet over his face in spite of the announcement.

"Born ready, lead the way, Sir," the taller turian replied, his dark visor allowing Lieutenant Aventius to inspect his own reflection.

The ramp lowered itself and the warm air of the planet rushed into their faces. Parnack was, even by turian standards, hot. The area they landed in was an airfield on a military base. It made sense, the turians would've done the same thing had a race approached them before they ventured the stars but just because it made sense, didn't mean he liked it. There was no cover on the asphalted runway and without a doubt hundreds of potentially hostile soliders were waiting just out of sight, ready to attack them at a moments notice.

"Castus you got the ship," he declared before he became the first member of a council race to set foot on the planet, nine turians joining him without a moment of hesitation in their step, their rifles lowered just far enough not to seem threatening as they scanned the area.

"Good luck, Sir," the turian in the standardized grey suit of armor called from the edge of the ramp, his voice slightly altered by the piece of armor protecting his face.

The envoy followed shortly after the turian escort and just like he had instructed Castus. the ramp of the survey ship behind them was starting to close just far enough to disguise the movements of the heavy weapons squad. At the far side of the landing strip an equally large group of yahg, seeming even taller in person started to walk towards them, their uniforms lacking any visible protection against a mass accelerator. He raised his left hand and the steps of the turians seized at once, their neat line turning into a half circle as they began covering the three directions not obstructed by their ship.

Them the ambassador stepped in front of Aventius and started to walk towards the group, without his approval.

"Shehu,"she called towards the biggest member of the pack in front of us. "Thank you for welcoming us on your home," T'Laá bowed.

"At least they know their place," the deep voice of one of the yahg flanking the biggest one, Shehu, grunted as it pointed it's rifle at the asari, an action that caused him to lift his Phaeston a bit higher. Either they were too undisciplined to keep their guns away from things they didn't intend to shoot or their intentions were as hostile as he feared them to be.

"I don't like this," one of the turians selected by Bassus for the security detail muttered over their private squad channel. "What's that supposed to mean, 'know their place', who does this primitive think he is? I'd be so easy, just one squee-"

"Cut the chatter Drusus. Don't embarrasses me in front to the lieutenant by being your usual, repugnant self," Bassus barked through the channel. "He does have a point though, I don't like this either."

"It is simply a sign of respect to bow in my culture. I hope to greet you as equals of the galactic community," the asari smiled and offered a hand to the yahg. "In my culture equals shake hands upon meeting," she explained when the alien didn't react.

It took exactly a second too long for Aventius to realize what was happening. At first the yahg, Shehu if he recalled correctly, extended it's massive arm and grabbed the hand of the ambassador, everything seemed alright for the moment. The asari's smile grew brighter with each moment right until the yahg began squeezing. The asari screamed as the bones in her hands were crushed by the three fingers of the brownish alien, the force far too big for the comparably fragile ambassador to react. Aventius steadied his rifle just as the creature tore the arm of the asari out off its socket. She collapsed as her purple blood started to pour out off her wound and only stopped trying to crawl away when a foot clad in black leather pressed her into the ground. A last flare of biotic energy danced over her body in a desperate attempt to save herself before the yahg forced his foot down. Aventius rose to his feet and undid the safety of his rifle at the same moment he was informed of the fact that aircraft were closing in from the north and the west of their position. He was about to put an end to 'Shehu' when the salarian ambassador got into his line of fire in a desperate attempt to escape.

"Kill these pathetic creatures," the yahg leader declared as he threw the arm of Ambassador T'Laá away before grabbing a hold of the amphibian delegate. "They are not our equals. At best they are our dinner," he declared as he started to walk towards the turian guard, using the people he was supposed to protect as a shield.

"Fire at will!" Aventius shouted as his rounds tore through one of the yahg beside his target, staining it's black fatigues with red liquid. There was a moment of hesitation among the rest of the creatures before they threw themselves to the ground, retaliating with their crude, inaccurate weapons, most likely confused why their shots did little to no damage to the 'dinner' in front of them.

"Bassus, throw the charges, the ambassador is dead anyway. Everyone else fall back!" he ordered as he saw the turian ambassador fall, a Carnifex pistol falling to the ground as his body was tossed aside by one of the yahg, the large hole in its chest suggesting that at least one of their diplomats had gone out with a fight. "Castus, fire the distress beacon and prepare to leave. Lower the hangar ramp and cover our withdrawal!"

"With pleasure, Sir," it came through his helmet as he saw a large number of yahg pour from one of the buildings left of him, his Phaeston killing several of them as he ensured that Bassus could take care of the threat in front of them. The tall turian threw the charges into the 'political envoy' of the yahg and when he detonated them, a piece of 'Shehu' flew by the head of Aventius, a short sense of satisfaction cut down by a red flash inside his helmet. As more of the primitive rounds of the yahg weapons bounced of his barriers his armor informed him that they couldn't take much more punishment, having done a more than admirable job up to now.

"Move it!" he shouted as his unit withdrew in orderly fashion. There was truth in the saying that you only saw the back of a turian when they were dead. The unit walked backwards while keeping up suppressive fire at the every growing group of yahg, corpses falling to the ground in front of them as he tried to fill his heat sink as slow as possible through the use of short, controlled bursts. He felt something at the heel of his left foot and once he realised just what it was he stepped the ramp just as the survey ship started to take off. He saw the military base vanish in the distance as the ramp closed and just as he was about to sigh in relief, a single message ruined his day even further.

"I got fast movers closing in on us. Aerial superiority fighters by the looks of it," the pilot explained as explosions impacted the low-grade barriers of the diplomatic ship, their detonation causing the turians in the hangar to stumble.

"Get us as far away from here as possible," he declared as he got up, intending to walk back to his squad just as a missile managed to connect with the ship and the pilot confirmed what Aventius already felt.

"We're going down, everyone brace for impact!"

* * *

 **3\. October 2383 AD, Uncharted System, HSASV Sun Tzu**

"Alright care to tell me where the hell we are?" Captain Gates asked as he rose from his chair at the helm of the assault carrier. The black haired man looked at his crew as his brown eyes scanned the grey bridge of his vessel, confused faces looking back at him. They were supposed to use the mass relay network to redeploy to the Fringe Worlds in order to keep up the martial law placed on the region after the war, relieving the last naval formation that had guarded the area for the last eight months.

"Something went wrong, Sir," a junior officer finally spoke up," the core overheated and engaged a partial discharge A safety measure within the relay network itself threw us out of transit," the man explained as he kept looking at his console. "Engineering is saying we can still travel at FTL but the core will need fixing. Twelve hours, at least."

"Now that's just great," the captain muttered as he walked over to another officer."Alright get me the rest of the fleet. They are probably wondering why their assault carrier is missing."

"Sir, I'm picking up tons of chatter from the fourth world in orbit around the star!" the communications officer declared. "Definitely alien!"

"Say that again?" Gates ordered as he leaned over the terminal of the officer that had just drawn the attention of the entire bridge.

"I'm picking up alien signals, Sir."

"Run the scan again," Gates insisted. "The discharge of the core must've caused damage to our scanners."

"Same result, Sir," the officer informed him as she turned her head towards Gates. "Scanners are all green, no false readings."

"So first contact with an alien society happens because engineering fucked with my drive co-" he was about to laugh when the woman once more interrupted him.

"One signal is a magnitude stronger than the others. It also is translating itself into English," she added as she stared at the console. "Our VIs have it. It's a live transmission, Sir!"

"Bring it up," the captain ordered as he tried to stay calm in the face of a historic discovery and an overflow of information at the same time. If he could just blend out the pressure, everything would be fine.

The first thing he noticed was the flanging of the voice. "-nder attack. I repeat this is the CSS N'vas Thelo to anyone receiving. We are under attack by the natives of Parnack. Require immediate assistance, the envoy is dead an-" the voice was interrupted by an explosion "Spirits we're hit. Going down in hostile territory. If anyone is listening in on this. We need help! Someone put out that fire!" the transmission cut out as static overtook the flanging voice.

"Can we reply?" he asked as he felt his pulse climb.

"No sir, it's a one way transmission," the woman answered. "Some kind of distress beacon by the sound of it."

"Helmsman, full ahead to the source of that signal. Norstoga, inform command, call for reinforcements, tell the flotilla to turn around." Gates said as he straightened himself, trying not to think about the weight of the decision he had just made.

"Sir?" the blonde XO looked at him from across the bridge.

"You heard me. Get us down there, we can't just ignore that."

"Sir. this is a first contact scenario, should we really rush into this? We should wait for backup," Norstoga argued as he walked up to Gates. He had always been the less impulsive one of the two.

"You'd want someone to get you. We can't wait on this one, I'm taking full responsibility for it. Get me a line to Alenko," the man with three golden bars on the neck of his navy blue uniform ordered.

"Sir," the soft voice of Captain Alenko, the commanding officer of the marine detachment of the Sun Tzu, made itself known through the intercom.

"Your grunts are getting something to shoot at Captain. We're responding to an alien distress signal on the fourth, tropical planet of this system. Prepare for Planetfall."

"Yes sir," the officer lived up to his stoic reputation as he didn't even question what he had just heared.

* * *

 **Two Minutes Later, Armory of the Sun Tzu**

The armory of an assault carrier was different from those of other human ships. Being designed during the Fringe Wars to project the force of the Human Systems Alliance across all of its worlds it was the only ship designated for sustained planetary invasion within the HSA Navy, as such it carried countless of weapons, vehicles and support gear through the darkness of space.

"Grab everything that you need, let's move it marines!" Gunnery Sergeant Sitko shouted. "We're going in blind so don't be shy. Grab as much ammunition as you can carry, we don't know how long we'll be down there," the NCO declared as Corporal Vega stored two more magazines for his SR-7, the modern bullpup service rifle of the HSA Marine Corps.

"Don't forget the mortars!" the voice of their commander, Captain Alenko, added.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day. First contact with aliens that aren't dead or stalked us from Mars," Corporal Emilio Vega chipped in as he grabbed additional magazines.

"Hear, hear," Holderman added as he chambered a round into his SIS-8 pistol and made sure the safety was still in place before stuffing it into the holster on his right leg.

While the infantry was busy preparing to hit the ground, the air detachment of the assault carrier was being armed with the bigger weapons stored in the armory. A large cargo robot stomped by the marines as it carried missiles to the flight deck. The VI of the yellow giant taking care not to step on any of the humans rushing to their assigned platoons and individual squads.

"Finally we are getting something to kill," Private Holderman went on as he tested the weight of his light machine gun in his arms. Why the man had been assigned to Vega's fireteam was beyond the corporal. "I've been itching to fire this thing on somewhere but target practice for seven months."

"You're bloody psychopath, you know that?" another marine observed as he stored several additional magazines for the squad weapon in his backpack.

"Hey, at least he's our psychopath," a marine putting on his helmet next to him argued. "So we know he won't be shooting us. That's something right?"

"Don't worry boys, I'm not after you," the private smiled.

"Just don't point that thing at me Holderman. Alright marines, let's kick some alien ass," Vega said as he made his way to the shuttle, two normal and one slightly deranged marine following him. He walked into the hangar and sat down inside the drop ship assigned to his squad, which the marines called them 'Combat Cockroach' their real name was UT-47 Kodiak. The engines started to whine and the corporal could see how the marines of the Sun Tzu began boarding more shuttles with their big guns, four Paladin Mechanized Support Combat Suits, being attached to specialized versions of the shuttle. The Paladin was important because it combined the maneuverability of infantry man with the durability of a tank and the fire power of heavy artillery. Steering it was only possible due to advancements in robotics, the progress in virtual intelligence research and the discovery of a mental connection Vega wasn't paid nearly enough to try and understand. Originally built to create a blend between mobility, adaptability and deadliness, the Paladin had found its way into the heart of the HSAMC due to being more suited for their rapid deployments than tanks like the Grizzly. They could be dropped right on their enemies.

"This is it marines. This is what we were trained for," the voice of Captain Alenko came to him through his radio. "Make me proud."

A series of cheers echoed through the hangar right until the doors of the Kodiak closed.

* * *

 **Five Minutes after the Crash, Surface of Parnack.**

"Watch their flank!" Bassus ordered his squad to cover the heavy weapons team as the switched positions. Lieutenant Aventius moved through the hangar, primitive bullets bouncing of the damaged wall in front of him. The survey ship had crashed in the jungle outside the military encampment and parts of it's hull had been ripped open. While the ramp remained closed, they still had to defend several hull breaches. The lieutenant knew that they wouldn't survive long outside of the vessel so he had ordered his unit to let the aliens get close and force them to come through the holes in the hull, their size actually turning out to be a disadvantage in this case. The turian peaked around the burnt corner as his Phaeston spotted two yahg trying to move closer, the lack of cover between their position and the hole they were trying to reach causing their death at the hands of turian engineering.

"Flavius is gone, Sir," Serranus shouted just as the lieutenant spun back into cover, seeing a turian corpse to his right, the blue blood and shattered helmet telling him just how the man had died. "Setting up now."

"Understood," he roared as a turian next to him fired his Phaeston, "How's your breach holding Sergeant Paetus?" he asked the sniper turned close quarter specialist.

"Taking casualties but those nasty bastards are slowly blocking the hole with their corpses, Sir." the flanging voice sounded over the radio. "Kind of funny actually."

"If you can seal the breach, no matter how messy, do it," Aventius replied. They needed every advantage they could have. If it meant blocking paths with corpses, they'd do it.

They couldn't hold indefinitely. Eventually the tungsten blocks that fueled their rifles would be expended and switching while every turian soldier carried two reserves, exchanging the blocks took far longer than this rapid engagement would allow them. The lieutenant once more took aim as he saw a particularly big yahg with something in its hand dash towards the hull. He fired several rounds just as the creature leapt of its feet, extending its arm forward even as bullets tore through its head. If all of them were that fanatic, the turians didn't have much longer. He turned back into cover as a bullet storm descended on his position only picking up on the small thud next to him by pure chance. It dawned on him as he realised why the yahg would try something like that.

"Get away from the walls!" he shouted as he jumped over the crates behind him and made a dash for the elevators, only the heavy weapons team staying behind to cover the move. One of his soldiers tripped over a piece of metal and Aventius started to lift him to his feet, pulling him with him as he threw another glance at Serranus who had decided to sent the rest of his team back as well, now manning the heavy mass accelerator all by himself.

For the Hierarchy indeed.

The blasts of a satchel charges threw him across the room and he felt his body smash into another turian, getting up as soon as he could and once more pulling the soldier next to him up.

"Go to the armory!" he roared as the heavy weapon fell silent, a yahg in a black uniform standing next of it with a grey turian figure in his hand. They had used the blasts to advance but the alien didn't realise that the sergeant in his grasp wasn't quite done yet, its focus on Aventius. Serranus pulled something from his chest and mere moments later the yahg dropped him, the curved blade of a military talon embedded in one of its eyes. He threw the soldier in his arm towards the elevator and fired his Phaeston at the alien as he, against his own orders, advanced forward to the NCO. Dropping the yahg in front of him, he pulled out his Carnifex and began firing both the assault rifle and the pistol at the ever growing wave of enemies.

"You still have some fight in you?" he asked as Serranus rose to his feet once more, manning the heavy weapon."

"Always."

"Bassus you're in charge, we'll slow them down!"

For a few moments, their plan was well on its way of being embedded in the records of their legion, enemies falling around them as they seemingly defied death, bullets shattering on their barriers or narrowly missing them. It was like a scene from an old movie really. Two heroes triumphing against impossible odds, their bravery allowing them to overcome everything thrown at them.

Then reality, in form of another satchel charge, caught up to them.

The explosion consumed Serranus as the NCO threw himself in front of his lieutenant and sent Aventius flying through the room, his head hitting the ground hard after a second of involuntary flight. He tried to raise himself from the floor as he heard Bassus shout something through his damaged helmet. He felt himself being dragged back to the elevator and a slight rotation of his head revealed the soldier he had previously saved behind him, blue flashes appearing as he fired his Phaeston at something coming close to them. Turning his head into the direction of the heavy weapon, he saw Serranus, badly injured still not dead, charge into a squad of aliens, a hand greande in each of his hands. He landed between them and was grabbed by the yahg closest to him, a horrible tearing noise sounding in between the bursts of Phaeston fire as the alien began pulling on the turian's head in an attempt to remove it, the hardsuit proving to be more resilient than expected. He didn't hear what the NCO muttered but whatever it had been, it caused the yahg to angrily snarl at him just as the two hand grenades detonated, engulfing Serranuns and the aliens around him in a cloud of fire, shrapnel and blood.

Being lifted to his feet, the lieutenant spotted something through one of the holes in the hull. They were done. There was no way they'd survive the next wave. There had to be hundreds, pouring out between the trees and bushes from an unknown source.

He knew what he had to do.

"We failed. Blow the co-" the turian interrupted himself as the pieces of the jungle he was able to see exploded into an inferno. "Belay that order."

* * *

 **One Minute to Planetfall,** **3\. October 2383 AD, Uncharted Planet**

Cooper Wells always lived for the thrill. It had started by jumping down from high places as a kid and it eventually led him into the cockpit of a Paladin, the pinnacle of human weapon technology. As the Kodiak pilot informed him that it was now save to disengage the holding clamps, the man didn't hesitate a second as the humanoid suit of armor began to fall down, creating a small impact crater and a loud thud once it made contact with the surface, three similar events occurring behind him. They didn't hesitate a second before starting their work. The 30mm chaingun of his Paladin opened up as he tore into a group of the aliens that had opened fire on them, their rounds harmlessly bouncing of his shields. They were tall, bulky and ugly. He stepped on one of them and the leg of his Paladin turned red as it crushed the alien. Apparently they were also quite squishy.

"Sun Tzu, Paladins have made Planetfall, I'm transmitting imagery of the area now. Hunter-Lead over," he spoke as the somewhat muffled sound of his chaingun accompanied his every word.

"Copy that Hunter-Lead. Clear a landing site, over," the voice of the Sun Tzu'S XO replied. Hunter 1-3, having the honor of carrying a rocket battery, complied immediately and unleashed a barrage of missiles on the jungle street from which the aliens were coming in, the silhouette of a clearly alien spacecraft peaking out beyond the trees. The missiles flew high into the air before bursting apart, the small incendiary projectiles inside them raining down on the area in front of them, a thick cloud of black smoke appearing almost immediately. Moments after this devastating attack the Kodiaks appeared from above to drop of their smaller comrades behind them.

At his right side marines were starting to appear as they dashed towards the first pieces of cover they could find, putting their faith into the Paladins' ability to keep them save until they could start digging in. His HUD informed him that second platoon was moving straight for the ship while the third and forth platoon were securing the flanks of their landing zone. His Paladin stomped through the trees and after a few seconds and a few broken trees, he could see the reason they were here. The craft itself wasn't really big but as Wells noticed the amount of alien corpses spread around the spaceship, he knew that whoever was defending it was doing a hell of a job. His Paladin VI started to inform him that while the bullets wouldn't be able to penetrate his armor, their impacts would take their toll on the shields of the mechanized suit in the long run, weakening them for any weapons that may actually be able to damage him. He opted for preventing that and returned his attention to the enemy infantry pouring towards them from a jungle road near the downed craft, taking aim at the transport vehicles driving towards him.

"All ground forces be advised, large amount of enemy ground troops are closing in on the crash side. They aren't happy we're here," the voice of Alenko who was currently moving towards the ramp, informed Wells. "The flyboys are going to deliver a surprise for them, incoming. Over."

Of course 'incoming' was not as relevant if you were piloting a walking tank. The HUD informed Wells that all members of Hunter were in the clear and he continued to shoot as the cockpit dampened the sound of heavy ordnance being delivered not a hundred meters into the in front of him jungle. The shadows of fighter craft rushing past the ground actually predating their explosions.

"Good hit confirmed. We're back to air superiority. Over," the pilots voice declared as the nimble Hornet fighters that had just deployed their load banked east and away from the crash site."

* * *

Corporal Vega shot one of the aliens and exchanged his magazine as his fire team pushed in on the hangar. The absolute carnage of the battle that had taken place here was something he tried to ignore for his own mental health. Alien bodies of two kinds, one big and clad in black and green unifoms, the others smaller and clad in grey armor, were lying on the ground with blue and red blood staining the walls of the hangar.

"All clear in here, Sir!" he shouted as Captain Alenko walked up, noticing that the group at the other end of the hangar wasn't shooting at them.

"Guns down marines. I get a feeling they are the reason we're here," Alenko ordered as he raised his hands and started to walk towards the elevator.

"Sun Tzu, I need that translation software right about now. Over," the officer radioed as Vega looked at the aliens. They were thin, very tall creatures with strange looking legs and only three fingers on each hand. Their faces were hidden by helmets that suggested a very different head shape but the way they carried themselves made it clear that these were soldiers.

"It's done, just start talking Captain. Over and out," the tech-specialist of the Sun Tzu informed them, his proximity to the captain causing their squad comlinks to connect.

"Do not shoot," the captain started to talk as he slowly walked towards the remaining five aliens. "We received your distress signal. We are here to help."

One of the aliens said something inaudible to Vega and the others lowered their rifles almost immediately. It started to limp towards Alenko and stopped a few meters in front of him trying to stand up straight.

"You have my thanks," the creatures flanging voice identified him, at least Vega assumed it was a him, as the one who spoke the message that had been played to them. "I am Lieutenant Aventius of the Turian Hierarchy." he heard him say as he found the translation software working for him as well.

"Captain Alenko. HSA Marine Corps," Alenko offered as he lowered his hands. "Listen, we'll have time for introductions later but we need to get you out of here. By intervening we pissed of half the continent."

"This ship can't fly," the alien explained.

"We'll get you out of here. How big is your crew?" Alenko asked as Vega looked behind him after a loud explosion caught his attention.

"Thrity soldiers, only half of whom are still a live and," a orange display materialized itself from his wrist, " Sixty Eight remaining crew members. The rest are all dead."

"Alright. Collect your people and all supplies you have left here, we'll get you out first and then we'll withdraw after you're on our vessel," Alenko turned away as the alien began barking orders.

"Sun Tzu, this is Captain Alenko. We got the survivors coming up. Prepare the medbay, most of them are wounded. Over," he turned to the elevator to see another kind of alien walk out of it.

It almost looked human to Emilio Vega, just far bluer.

"Sun Tzu there are two types of aliens. Be advised. Two different races on the ship. Over."

"Copy that Captain, by the looks of it even more enemies are on their way. At least regimental size. We're picking up mobilization from all around the continent. Apparently we made someone very angry. You got one hell of a fight coming your way. Over."

"That's the job. Alenko over and out," the captain said as he turned to walk out of the hangar. "Corporal," he barked, causing Emilio to rise to his feet.

This would be a long night.

* * *

 **2125 CE, THS Angelus, One Relay Jump away from Parack**

Captain Bonosus had received the distress signal a few moments ago and already his patrol consisting of the cruiser Angelus and three frigates was making its way towards the closest relay.

"Typical Citadel diplomats, always getting themselves into harms way," he sighed. "Prepare the troops, we're going to have to hit the ground by the sound of it. Five minutes to the Relay."

"Why is it always turians that die when the council messes up?" one of the junior officers manning a terminal questioned the turian next to him. Red facial markings turned towards his own blue one's.

"I guess only the spirits can answer that question. It's our duty to help them, no use in complaining about it," he turned his attention back towards the screen. "Besides, maybe you get a grateful asari to thank you?"

The junior officer chuckled. "We both know they always 'thank' the grunts even though we do the real work."

"Focus," he barked towards them as they returned their attention to their work. Junior officers really were a piece of work. The ship was engulfed by the blue light of the mass relay as it was flung across the stars at a magnitude of the speed of light. Seconds passed and the formation entered the system the distress call had originated from.

"All systems green, drift marginal," the helmsman informed Bonosus who nodded once.

"Check the scanners, I want a read on our survey vessel," he began. "Prepare the drop ships if they are still around, they'll need to be relieved.."

"Checking scan-" the junior officer swallowed. "Sir, I got a dreadnought sized vessel in orbit around 'Parnack', the planet the distress signal came from. It's located almost right on top of the source."

"All ships, switch to secure channels," he ordered through the formation channel before turning to the junior officer. "The survey team's report said that the race they were observing was on the verge of space flight, how could they miss them having a dreadnought?" Bonosus drummed his claws on the armrest of his command chair before getting up. "No they couldn't have been this wrong. There is no way they could've been this wrong. How long ago was the signal sent?"

"By the looks of it the first signal was sent roughly two hours ago sir. We got lucky by being this close," the communication officer of the Angelus explained. "I'm still reading turian signals from the planet. We're not too late, Sir."

"I am not liking this. Verify that signal." the captain ordered as he walked through the CIC.

* * *

 **3\. October 2383 AD, Uncharted System, HSASV Sun Tzu**

"Captain Gates, four unknown contacts just left the relay. Three of them are clocking in at 300 meters, one of them at 535," the officer manning the sensor array called form his position on the bridge.

"This day is getting better by the minute. Can we get any readings on them? Are they friends of the guys we are shooting at or friends of the guys we're currently airlifting to our ship?" Gates asked as he made his way to the sensor array, a quick look on its screen confirming what the officer had claimed.

"Negative, no readings. They went silent the moment they spotted us but we still saw them come in."

"Fantastic. Alright, we got their language somewhat translated. Send footage of Alenko's helmet cam on an open frequency. Make sure they get it, if they start shooting we know they aren't friendly."

"Aye, Sir," the officer replied as she started to hit buttons on her console.

"Any word on that backup?" Gates took a sip of coffee, even though naval coffee tasted horrible it was better than nothing. He had a feeling he'd need all the caffeine he could get.

"Yes. The rest of the fleet has finished venting their drive cores and is currently on their way to our position," the woman that filled the position of the communication officer replied.

"Good. Anything from Alenko, ground control?" he looked at the black man manning the mentioned terminal.

"He's reporting that the aliens have been loaded on the Kodiaks but that their air space is getting crowded now. They can't get another Kodiak up until our fighters thin the herd."

"Can we help them with that?" Gates questioned.

"We could descend into atmosphere but we'd risk becoming a huge target for everyone on that world if we do that."

"Alright that's a no then. Do we got firing solutions? We're an assault carrier after all. We could use these sweat bombardment systems the navy got me for Christmas." he stared at the ceiling of the ship imagining finally being able to watch the kinetic bombardment system in action before he snapped out of his thoughts.

"That is a possibility, however we can't use them close to our troops and we can't be certain we're hitting the right things down there. It's a risk, Sir."

"I don't want to be the guy that blew up an alien child orphanage." Gates deadpanned. "So bottom line is we can't help them right now?"

"Not without chancing massive collateral damage, no. We are best of waiting for the frigates wolfpacks, they are designed for atmospheric combat. They'll clear the air space."

"I hate sitting on my ass up here while our guys are getting a beating down there. How bad?" he asked. The chains of command ensured he'd be responsible for human deaths due to his decision. It wasn't the first time people died because of his orders but it didn't get easier.

"Alenko is reporting fourteen KIA and another twenty one wounded. A Paladin also took quite the beating but Hunter 1-2 is saying that she can still 'kill those bastards' so I think the mechanized support is good for now," the ground control officer explained.

"Damn."

* * *

 **Two Hours after Planetfall,** **3\. October 2383 AD** **, Uncharted Planet**

"I love this job," Holderman admitted as he chambered another round into his machine gun before once more pressing its stock into his shoulder. "I feel like I don't say that enough," he added before once more squeezing the trigger of the weapon.

"You really are a psychopath!" Vega shouted back to him as he sent rounds down towards the enemies his HUD marked in the darkness. The sun had set half an hour ago and by the looks of it the beings they were fighting had no need for either night vision gear nor flash lights.

"Guilty as charged," the marine laughed as the weapon in his hand kept firing. "Speaking of charges," he began as a burst of alien shots dug into the dirt near the two of them, "care to finally blow up the tree line?"

"Are you giving me orders, Private?" Vega asked while producing a small device from his chestrig.

"Just making suggestions, Corporal," the man shrugged while bullet casings flew out of the machine gun.

"Suggestion accepted," Vega answered as he raised the detonator and declared 'detonation' over the squad intercom. "Just don't get any ideas for being right once."

"I'm always right," the machine gunner insisted as an alien arm torn of by the detonation landed between them, causing both of them to pause for a moment.

"Is that an alien asking for a high five?" Holderman muttered.

"I think so."

"Should we keep that?" the private asked.

"Why would you want to keep that?" the corporal replied in disbelief.

"I'm just ask-"

"Quit fucking around and start killing again!" the voice of Gunnery Sergeant Sitko demanded. "You morons do realize this Squad Intercom includes the whole squad, right?"

Throwing the arm behind them to keep it from obstructing their movement, the marines complied.

* * *

 **A/N: So my idea behind this story is that usually AU!Mass Effect stuff tends to go with humanity kicking the ass of the turians due to being better in everywhere or something like that and to be honest, I really like turians so I thought how could I create a story where they don't hate each other and still make it somewhat entertaining?**

 **My aim is to create a story where Humanity is neither weak, nor overpowered. Just slightly different (see my shameless steal of Titans) and gets a better start with everyone by being in the right place at the right time (Parnack) and so I came up with a ship having engine troubles and dropping out right as shit hits the fan for the yahg envoy.**

 **I never really saw anyone use this but I feel like I may have missed it. Still rather proud of my idea. I will try to create my own basic line while still following Mass Effect lore, so no flashy FTL drives or that jazz. Just a slightly different (cultural and technological) humanity with a slightly different timeline.**

 **I may start something akin to a codex to fill in lore questions at the end of each chapter if there's a demand for it. Anyway, tell me what you think and see you around next time.**

 **Edit 30.7.2017: Chapters 1 to 10 have been completely remastered, as I intended to, and while there is still a difference in the quality of them and the chapters 1-16, I am now happy with the state Semper Vigilo is currently in, meaning I will now once more start writing the actual story, only editing some stupid spelling and puncuation mistakes.**

 **I did retcon some earlier oneliners out of chapter 3 and fixed a lot of phrasing between 1-10 that didn't quite match the later tone of the story, (for example one character being refered to as a lot of things was changed to him having the one and same 'rank' everytime its used)**


	2. Yahg Hospitality

**Chapter 2. Yahg Hospitality**

* * *

 **2125 CE, THS Angelus**

The recording played again and Captain Bonosus mandibles clicked into the turian equivalent of a thinking expression. Tech specialists had confirmed it to be authentic, which meant that another alien force was currently engaging end evacuating members of the council survey team to their ship, a dreadnought sized ship hovering right above the crash side which was, as far as long range scanners were concerned an all out battleground by now.

"Sir, what is your decision?" the commander of his ground forces, Silia Audaios asked. She was currently standing in the blueish, grey armor favored by most turian marines. Her green eyes locked with the black pair of the captain, red facial markings meeting grey facial markings.

"Hail the vessel, make our intentions clear, request for the surviving members to be transported towards the Angelus and offer our frigates and ground teams as additional support. We're in this together. Furthermore transmit our identification code, if there's a turian survivor on board he'll be able to confirm our identity," his flanging voice ordered with a tone three decades in the military had given it.

"Yes, Sir. As you command," the communications officer started to type on the hard light keyboard in front of her. "Message is sent, unknown ship is receiving."

"Let's just hope the spirits mean well," the captain turned towards the marine next to him who was still awaiting his instructions, "Prepare the ground forces. I want a rapid deployment if the need arises. Make sure the mechanized elements of the frigates are ready for prolonged fighting, they'll bear the weight of the assault," as she turned away Bonosus placed a hand on her shoulder. "Watch out for yourself Silia."

"You too Vedrix," a faint smile appeared on her face as she walked away from the bridge. His gaze lingered for a moment before he returned his focus on the task ahead of him. Those weren't thoughts for times like these or as a matter of fact lives like theirs.

Spirits be damned.

* * *

 **Five Hours after Planetfall,** **4\. October 2383 AD, Surface of 'Parnack'**

Orbital surveillance had recently informed Captain Alenko that the worst was yet to come. Apparently they had pissed of one of the biggest nations on the planet and said nation was currently mobilizing its entire military to close in on the crash site, to seize a ,quite literally, bloody survey ship. Once he had learned that the evacuation wouldn't be a speedy as he had hoped, the officer had used the short break that had presented itself to the marines after clearing the site for the first time to have them dig trenches to fortify their position, an act that was proving to be sensible right about now. He was currently standing in one of the holes he had dug with his entrenching tool as another trail of smoke appeared in the sky, marking one less enemy aircraft. While the aviation wing of the Sun Tzu had not yet taken any casualties to the less sophisticated alien fighter craft and had finally managed to shoot down enough of them for the Kodiaks to safely return to their mother ship, his marines hadn't been as lucky. Alenko had already lost twenty seven marines and another eight teen wounded were waiting to be evacuated alongside the alien crew.

Almost a fifth of his company was unable to fight and while the Sun Tzu kept dropping supplies from orbit, the logistical situation was getting tight as well. Word from Captain Gates that the rest of the 6th Patrol Fleet was well on its way had come through some time ago but they would only be able to relieve them in another three hours. Three hours Alenko wasn't sure he'd live to see as another mortar round exploded in front of the trench he was using for cover. They could really use the Hornets right about now but as he looked up, seeing more smoke trails appear, he realised that their air support was still quite busy. It was just their luck that their foes didn't seem to care about casualties.

"Someone kill those spotters!" he shouted into his helmet as yet another mortar round exploded near him. The moment the command had left his mouth a Paladin, Hunter 1-2 as far as his HUD informed him, shifted it's 40mm cannon to a not yet destroyed tree line. The big rifle let out four rounds and Alenko saw them cause small explosions upon impact, making out bits and pieces of several of their foes flying through the air. One spotter team less.

The fire however didn't stop as the mortar crews most likely still had a good idea of what they were shooting at. Alenko was aware that these 'yahg' ,as the turian had briefly informed him, were trying to seize their space craft, a fact that he was using to his advantage by staying as close to it as possible in order to avoid an early demise by a heavy artillery barrage or a missile salvo. The alien lieutenant had stated that they yahg would not risk damaging the survey ship and up to now he had been right. Another reason for staying close to the craft was that he had to mahe sure that, until they withdrew, the yahg would not find out about the ludicrous amount of explosives Alenko's engineering squads had placed in the vessel. The turian had been rather insistent on not allowing anything to be left behind for the yahg to salvage.

Alenko had agreed with that idea.

"Here they go again!" Lieutenant Husain accented voice shouted from another trench in the darkness. He was referring to another wave of yahg infantry trying to close the distance and get into close combat with the humans, a tactic with which they had previously killed fifteen of Alenko's men. The commander of Alenko's second platoon pointed his targeting laser at a part of the jungle and soon after started to engage targets, at least a hundred big alien figures pouring towards them.

"Shoot them before they can get close!" he ordered as he lifted his own SR-7, preparing to fire controlled bursts at everything that even remotely looked like a yahg. His magazine pouches were mostly empty by now and he knew he'd soon have to call for another ammunition drop but right now every gun was needed and since he still had three magazines to his name he inteded to put the bullets to good use. Next to him another man lifted his DMR-7, a slightly longer and more precise version of the service rifle and started delivering rounds to his intended targets, taking out those yahg that provided covering fire for their comrades. Alenko himself aligned his scope with the biggest alien he could find. If the last hours had taught him anything, those tended to be in charge of their troops. The last assault had seized when all leaders had been killed, maybe they could stop this one dead in its tracks. As the rifle's recoil punched against his shoulder, full metal jacket rounds left the barrel and found their mark in one of the eyes of an especially big yahg. The hit tore half his face off and caused the creature to drop, once more staining the ground of the jungle area with red liquid that appeared as a dark green in his night vision mod.

Alenko shifted his aim as another Kodiak pilot pinged him, informing the captain of its safe arrival at the Sun Tzu and that yet another bunch of injured marines or aliens had been evacuated. He ignored the pop up in his upper left field of vision and took down another yahg with a precise burst to it's head. There was another advantage to them being this bulky, not only had they a hard time finding cover but they were also easy targets. Their heads were the size of the torsos human marines were trained to shoot at and such killing them was, much to his surprise considering their size, easier than killing a human. As Alenko was looking for other targets the battle around raged on and his Paladin platoon continued to take the bulk of the enemy's fire due to their size and the fire power they were carrying. After dropping another yahg with his rifle, Alenko went down to reload and while sliding into the trench he just hoped that his enemies would run out of bodies to throw at them sooner than the marines ran out of bullets. Chambering the first round of his second to last magazine, the officer wasted no time lingering in the trench, instead rising up once more only to find something he had hoped not to see.

Not ten meters from his position, two yahg came charging towards him. He brought up his rifle as bullets took one of them down but as the other began to leap off the ground, he was just about ready to say his good byes. He couldn't beat that thing in close combat but he sure as hell would try. The last rounds left his rifle, failing to stop the yahg as they dug into his shoulder, and he was all but prepared to use his rifle as a bat when a mechanical hand snatched the figure out of the air, probably crushing several of its bones, before throwing it back the way it had come.

Under the surge of adrenaline, he hadn't even heard the Paladin walking up.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**

After saving his commanding officer in a rather strange fashion, Cooper Wells continued to fire his chaingun into the positions of the enemies. He was having a rather good time if he was entirely honest with himself. Their small caliber rounds bounced of his Paladin and he could return as much fire as he wanted to, even the bigger guns they had brought up to now not being sufficient. Another group fell victim to him as they tried to move to the trenches his non-mechanized comrades had dug only to encounter his rounds traveling at super sonic speed halfway through their dash. The burst from the gun tore the first one into two pieces, reduced the second yahg to a bloody soup and continued it's path across the other five members of the pack, killing them in a similar fashion. Wells turned the upper body of his Paladin and the mortar mounted on his back fired another round into the jungle, a flaming explosion swallowing the group of officers looking over the charge. This battle was giving the Paladins every advantage they could've hoped for. Good terrain, the technological edge and the perfect targets, infantry lacking anti-Paladin weapons.

The Fringe Wars had already proven that Paladins, if left unchallenged, could cause catastrophic damage to any enemy force that lacked the means to fight them. The machines cleaved their way through the yahg with ease, only his modified VI keeping track of the number of kills he had already collected in the last five hours and by the looks of it, they'd continue to do so until they were evacuated. The Hornets ensured that no hostile air support could touch them and up to now enemy armor seemed to either be nonexistent or unable to reach them. He was all but certain that the only thing maintenance would have to do would be to clean off alien blood.

Then an impact caused the chassis of the Paladin to stumble back as red light started to engulf the cockpit. Then another hit and another and another. His HUD tracked the trajectory of the fire he was taking and soon the VI confirmed what he already knew. "Armor integrity at 92%. Shields depleted. Seek cover. High density shells impacting,"the deep voice of the Paladin VI stated as the big mech started moving towards the direction he had been shot from. His HUD marked the outlines of what looked like multiple tanks coming down the by now completely destroyed jungle road as infantrymen cleared the last of the lighter vehicles obstructing their path. The tanks were painted in a splinter camo of indistinguishable shades of green and slightly darker green and by the looks of it they were bigger than the Grizzly MBT the army favoured. While their shape appeared sloped, he already suspected that the material used to create them wouldn't be nearly as resilient as the armor plating attached to most human military vehicles or space craft. The technological gap was simply too big.

With their path cleared, the tanks began to roll once more, another salvo of high density shells flying his way as six of the primitive vehicles made their way across the hill of the jungle street. Looking back this was bound to happen. Things had simply been too easy for Hunter Platoon up to now. Now it was actually time to earn their pay. Cooper Wells planned on delivering.

"Armor integrity at 86%," it sounded through the cockpit as he felt a round bounce of the torso of his Paladin. "Shields not yet recharged, seek cover."

Since he didn't have any cover, he fired off one of the rockets attached to the left shoulder of his Paladin instead and sure enough, one of the tanks simply seized to exist, only for another to take its place moments later. He didn't have enough rockets for this game of attrition so he had to find another way. The Paladin and its pilot dashed through the jungle, the trees offering him some protection on his advance and the lieutenant opened the general combat channel all the while he slaughtered his way towards his targets, horrified yahg foot soldiers fleeing as the mech tore into their ranks.

"Ground force be advised, enemy armor has arrived," he stated as he moved the mechanized suit forward while dodging another tank round. Close one. Soon he'd be to close for them to react though. He just had to be lucky long enough. Sadly, he never had been very lucky. The Paladin shook twice in rapid succession as two of the yahg tanks managed to hit the fast moving target, the VI once more coming to live to tell him what he already felt in the Paladin's movement.

"Armor integrity at 68%, registering damage to the left leg," its deep voice echoed through the cockpit just as he cleared the remaining distance. The Paladin stepped on the first tank he could reach, unloading several of the 30mm rounds on its soft backside, before reaching down and bending the barrel of another just enough so it wouldn't be able to fire. Cooper Wells was about to take care of the third tank when he looked to his left.

A realization hit him as he saw what was beyond the hill. He wasn't going to make it and if he didn't do something about the tanks in front of him, neither would any of the marines relying on his platoon to provide heavy support.

"Armor integrity at 41%," the deep VI voice warned. "Suggesting immediate evacuation."

"Not possible,"he stated as another tank was destroyed after sustained fire of his chaingun, its engine causing a fire that cooked the crew inside it. "Prepare to overload our core, give me a line to the captain," he added as he marched his Paladin forward through enemy fire, the crews of the tanks behind the small hill too shocked or too slow to react to the mech walking over their vehicles. "Captain, take cover."

"Hunter-Lead, what the hell are you doing, get back here!" the canadian voice of his superior declared. "That's an order!"

"Sorry sir, not possible. I've got a lot of enemy armor and I've got a way to blow them up," he disobeyed at the sound signaling that his chaingun had run out of ammunition. He swung the heavy piece of equipment into a group of yahg standing next to one of the tanks, stunned as they tried to comprehend what drove the machine into this suicidal charge, and the weapon smashed into the pack, sending its members flying through the air as the Paladin blew past them.

"Armor integrity at 20%," the voice of his VI informed him as the first tank crews started to react, finally managing to shoot at the alien mech running over their comrades. While primitive they still packed a punch now that his armor was severely compromised and soon enough the first managed to score a critical hit, tearing apart the connection between the left arm of the Paladin just as Lieutenant Wells fired off the remaining missiles attached to its shoulders.

"Warning le-" the VI began.

"Mute," Wells simply interrupted it. "Been an honor, Captain," he decided to close the channel. There was no need to hear the man's reply.

The Paladin dashed forward as he continued walking over the tanks, crushing a yahg tank commander that had decided to investigate just what was actually happening. Another hit of a tank at the end of the formation caused the right leg to seize working and Hunter-Lead to collapse. A constant warning sound entered Wells' world as another round tore through the cockpit and past his head, the outside world now visible.

"Blow the core," Wells ordered and an instant later the nuclear powered reactor of the mechanized walker tore a hole into the whole armored convoy that had hidden behind the hill of the jungle road. As orbital image would later confirm Cooper Wells single handedly destroyed at least fifty heavily armed tanks and fighting vehicles with the last deed of his twenty five year long life.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**

Alenko not only saw the flash of the small nuclear explosion beyond the hill but also felt the shockwave even though most of it had already been dampened by the earth between them. His hardsuit informed him of the amount of radiation it had just blocked, it would've been a very unhealthy dose, and the fiery mushroom cloud that was starting to form caused his HUD to temporarily believe it to be daytime.

"Hunter 1-2 you're now Hunter-Lead, over," he ordered as debris and dirt started to rain down on them, adjusting his night vision just as several pieces of red-hot metal embedded themselves in the ground in front of him. The glowed brightly inside his HUD as the green filter returned to him and once more allowed him to see what the yahg were doing. Some of them seemed paralyzed, maybe they had never witnessed a nuclear detonation, and yet again others simply pressed forward into the direction of the craft they so desperately desired.

"Copy that, improving our position, over," the voice of the newly promoted Paladin leader confirmed. The pilot sounding almost mechanical but is actions revealed the thirst of revenge he held inside him. 40 mm rounds started to hone in on any yahg he could find as the machine stomped forward, its two remaining counterparts following right behind it. A small yahg, this one was a shade of dark red, tried to crawl away from the killing machine but when the pilot caught the move his Paladin lifted the creature off the ground and began squeezing the by comparison small being in between his robotic hand. The result was as ugly as one would expected it to be. Taking a page out of the late Hunter-Lead's book, the pilot threw the corpse through the air and towards the line of yahg still advancing on their position, a shower of blood raining along its path and covering the ground below it.

Captain Alenko chose to ignore the brutality of what he just witnessed and once more returned into the emotionless state of shooting anything with more than two eyes.

The nature of war.

* * *

 **4\. October 2383 AD, Orbit around 'Parnack', Medical Bay of the HSASV Sun Tzu**

"So they're here for your people," Captain Gates repeated as he gave the computer pad to the turian called Lycus Aventius. "Are they your people though? I'd hate to go through all of this to hand you over to your mortal enemy."

"Yes they are our people. You are safe to reply, their codes match with Hierarchy regulations," the alien officer reassured the human sitting across from him as the orange display around his wrist, an 'omni-tool' as he had called it, confirmed the codes.

"Finally some good news. We could really use those frigates for air and ground support in the area," Gates sighed in relief. "The rest of my fleet won't be here for another three hours," he rose from the chair as Aventius did the same almost instantaneously. "Now if you excuse me, I'll be having a conversation with both my ground commander and your captain."

"Of course, Captain Gates," the turian spoke before throwing what Gates suspected to be a salute. He returned the gesture before walking out, expecting to return to the bridge only to bump into the ground control officer who had been waiting for him in front of the medical bay.

"We lost a Paladin, Sir," he explained as he joined Gates' walk towards the bridge. "A nuclear blast just took out a whole armored convoy on the surface.

"Anything else?" the captain asked as both officers pressed themselves against the wall to make way for several corpsmen carrying an injured marine on a stretcher towards better medical care, the bleeding stump of the remains of his right arm causing a sting in Gates' own shoulder. He had thrown that private into the meatgrinder, he'd have to live with that.

"As ordered all alien casualties and weapons have been recovered," the man in a naval blue uniform with a single golden bar identifying him as a lieutenant commander went on. "The remaining marine casualties are on their way up as well as we speak.

"Good but I'm sure there's another reason why you left your post just to meet me in person," Gates said as they walked past another section of the medbay where two doctors, under the instruction of a member of the other alien race that had been with the turians, were doing their best to operate on a severely injured, purple alien, the puddle of alien blood collecting on the floor not inspiring confidence in their success.

"Yes Sir. We picked up two more regimental sized forces moving in on the crashsite. If we don't get them out of there in the next hour they'll be overrun," the elevator door opened and they stepped inside before the cabin rapidly ascended towards the bridge. "Now might be the time to deploy the kinetic bombardment systems."

"We've found a different means of ground support, Lieutenant Commander Haley," he assured his companion. "Frigates will relief our marines."

"But, Sir," the officer began in justified confusion as the doors of the elevator opened up, "the 6th won't be here for another two hours."

"Whoever said anything about it being our frigates?" Gates smirked as they walked into the bridge before raising his voice. "Hail the unknown ship. It's a turian cruiser, they are confirmed allies of our guests and they've got something we need."

"Yes Sir," the communication officer said as she pressed a few buttons and the screen revealed another turian.

* * *

 **2125 CE, THS Angelus**

"They look almost like asari," a junior officer whispered as the screen revealed the alien in charge of the dreadnought-sized ship which was apparently trying it's hardest to rescue the crew of the N'Vas Thelo.

"My name is Captain Charles Gates of the HSASV Sun Tzu," the voice said and the translation software translated it into the common language most turians spoke, Pallian. "I am willing to immediately deliver the survivors of your survey team and I formally request the assistance you have offered us," he declared. "As badly as I'd like for us to exchange further pleasantries, we will have much more time for formal greetings when our kin aren't dying below us."

"Give word to the frigates," Bonosus nodded, "order them to execute an FTL jump to Parnack and begin atmospheric support." The turian captain turned back to the alien on his screen and locked eyes with him. "I appreciate what you're doing Captain Gates. I am Captain Vedrix Bonosus and my frigates are ready to assist your forces. They'll provide air and ground support and my troops are itching for a fight, just say the word," the turian officer offered.

"Much appreciated. Be advised all your ground personal has already been evacuated. You'd only be covering our retreat. You don't need to commit further ground troops," the alien captain explained as Bonosus found himself grateful for not having to throw his own marines into the fray.

"Then atmospheric support is the least we can do," Bonosus said as he gestured for his XO to inform Commander Audaios of the change of situation. "My frigates will clear the sky for your shuttles, I swear it," the 'human' nodded and the screen turned black.

"Let's put an end to this," Bonosus roared over the bridge as he sat up straight in his chair and his crew drifted into a state mechanical focus, the blueshift of the Angelus' frigate escorts racing past the cruiser.

* * *

 **Six Hours after Planetfall,** **4\. October** **2383 AD, Surface of 'Parnack'**

The situation was getting worse with every passing moment and Alenko was starting to get the feeling they'd not survive another minute of this onslaught at all when he got a direct call from Captain Gates. He slid down into the trench just in time to see a tracer fly through the air where his head used to be. Primitive bullets or not, he wouldn't have survived that shot. He told himself not to think about how close he had just gotten to death and prepared himself to rise from his cover once more, only stopping when his comlink to the Sun Tzu opened itself, indicating that someone on the ship wanted to talk to him. He pressed himself against the wall of the trench, tapped the man next to him on his shoulder so he'd keep the suppressive fire up for him.

"You're getting frigate support, prepare to retreat, over," the naval officer explained as dirt from another explosion rained down on Alenko's helmet.

"I thought the 6th wouldn't be here for another two hours, over," he very nearly shouted back just as the marine next to him took a hit to the neck, collapsing as his blood sprayed over the captain's visor. Alenko pressed his hand on the wound as his armored gauntlet started to turn red, increasing the pressure even further as he saw more of the liquid pour from the wound.

"Corpsman!" he shouted while the channel towards his superior was still open and moments later a man with a medical backpack jumped into the trench and took a knee next to the wounded man. He grabbed a thin syringe from one of his pockets, breaking open its seal in one swift motion and applied the medigel, humanity's solution to every military injury for the last twenty five years. The clotting agents of the salve started to quench the red flow that had appeared from the neck of the man and created a small puddle within the trench itself and upon receiving the okay from the medic, Alenko let go of the man's neck. Without medigel this marine most likely wouldn't have survived his recent, violent meeting with a piece of lead.

"Repeat your last Sun Tzu," the captain finally said before rising to cover the corpsman's further treatment, shell casings flying down to join the small sea of blood at his feet as his SR-7 rattled with every shot.

"It's not the 6th Fleet that's coming for you, your support is turian, the race of the soldiers you rescued," the naval officer elaborated as if Alenko cared who dragged their asses out of the fire. "They want to repay our 'favor' and offer full ground and orbital support with three of their frigates. Over."

"Understood. Withdrawing back to the shuttles now. Over and out," Alenko said as the corpsman started to work on the wounded man. "Grab him and let's go!" he ordered as he shot another burst into the general direction of the enemy. "All forces, grab your casualties and retreat to the landing zone. We're getting the hell out of here, marines!" he shouted.

As his forces started to dash towards the remaining Kodiaks the three remaining Paladins laid down suppressive fire and cut apart any Yahg who thought about trying something, their towering forms slowly backing up to the evacuation point themselves. Alenko dropped another alien as a thunderous sound broke through the sky and an explosion rocked the ground as something impacted in the distance. Then a bird-like vessel with a sleek design, made up of white and orange armor plates and most importantly guns appeared out of the clouds, unleashing deadly kinetic bombardment into the direction enemy forces were coming from. Alenko climbed out off his trench, turned around and started to break into a sprint after ensuring that his forces were doing the same. A marine in front of him fell on his face as he tripped over the corpse of a fallen yahg in front of the spacecraft and Alenko grabbed him by his rig and threw him on his feet.

"Bloody move it!" he shouted as he gave the young man a push into the direction of the Kodiaks. "You're not dying here!"

The captain continued his run, already seeing the first shuttles lift off with their doors still opened to allow their passengers to shoot at the few yahg forces brave enough to push through the turian bombardment. Alenko's HUD informed him that the majority of his units were getting out of there and that the Paladins too had now been picked up by their special transportation craft. By the looks of it they were now they were just waiting for him. He spotted the last Kodiak in front of him and broke into the sprint of his life. The craft slowly started to lift upwards, the marines inside waving for him to hurry up, and after covering the last few meters Alenko jumped and grabbed onto the edge of the passenger cabin, barely holding on. He felt a hand pull him up and read the name tag of his saviour as it appeared in his field of vision.

"Sitko, you're still alive?" Alenko asked as the armored door shut behind him and the last human forces left the ground of Parnack under the cover of the newly arrived frigates, the cameras on the outside of the Kodiak allowing the marines inside to witness the spectacle.

"Course I am, Sir," Gunnery Sergeant Sitko laughed, "someone has to hit this detonator!" he flashed the little stick with a red button on its top into the face of the captain.

"Well go ahead. Blow that damned ship to hell," Alenko ordered before dropping into his seat.

"With pleasure Captain," the NCO chuckled before pressing the small button on top of the stick.

* * *

 **Kodiak Shuttle on the Way towards the Sun Tzu**

"So beautiful," Holderman whispered next to Vega as the screen displayed the explosion. "I feel like I don't mention this enough so here it goes, I love my job." he chuckled as he took of his combat helmet to reveal sweaty brown hair.

"We get the idea, Thomas," Emilio sighed. "I'm just glad I survived that shit."

"Yeah me too, that was a meat grinder if I ever saw it," another marine of his fireteam, Private Ellis, grunted. "So me and Romeo are going to get shitfaced when we hit the Sun Tzu, you in?"

"Nah I'm way too old for that now," Emilio replied, suddenly feeling very tired, He didn't care how he had gotten his guys off that planet in one piece, he was just glad that he had done it.

"Dude you're twenty two," Romea, the final member of his team countered.

"I feel like I'm fifty right now. I think I'll just crawl into my bunk and sleep for two weeks," he chuckled as he registered a secondary explosion on the view screen. "Look at this shit."

"Fair enough. What about you, Thomas?" the marine turned to Holderman. "Come on buddy don't let me down."

"Hell yes I'm in. That's what I signed up for, killing stuff and getting wasted."

"I literally have no idea how you passed psychological screening," Emilio laughed. "What the hell did you say to them?"

"I was just being my usual, charming self," Thomas Holderman said as he unloaded his machine gun after making sure that the safety was in place. The private might behave like he didn't care about anything but the fight yet Emilio suspected it was just an act, small gestures such as these proved that suspiscion.

"Yeah if charming means violent," Ellis as he repeated the motion, stuffing the half-empty clip into his chestrig. They felt the craft touch down and the hatch opened to reveal the hangar of the Sun Tzu, one of the Paladins already walking over to maintenance and dozens of marines jogging to the armory. Furthermore the hangar was buzzing with activity as a group of the aliens they had rescued boarded one of the green Kodiaks.

"Where the hell are they going?" Emilio questioned.

"They probably heard you were coming and decided they'd rather be down on that shit hole of a planet again," Holder shrugged.

"Har-har," Emilio faked laughter as they too walked towards the armory which was located next to the hangar. "Very funny compadre."

"As I was saying, usual, charming self!" Thomas exclaimed as he started to walk away from the man to turn in his machine gun,"you know it's true," he added before turning around and jogging towards the squad support weapon area of the armory.

* * *

 **5\. October 2383 AD, Terra Nova**

"Today I stand before you to deliver historic news," the voice declared towards the cameras. "Exactly thrity one hours ago humanity made contact with not one, but three alien civilizations capable of space travel and another hostile, planet bound race." Britton Wells, the representative of Terra Nova in the parliament, explained as he stood in front of one of Terra Nova's most famous military academies, "Under circumstances which will be declassified once the situation is concluded, forces of the HSA Marine Corps were engaged with the military of the planet bound race after responding to an alien distress signal."

There was a moment of hesitation in the politician's voice. "After seven hours of ground combat our forces managed to evacuate the planet, having rescued surviving crew members of the alien vessel. In the process of this operation we made formal contact and worked with the military of one of their governments, the Turian Hierarchy. We turned the survivors of the crash over to them once their forces arrived in the system and our navy remains on standby in the system for now," he turned the page of his notes around and looked to the crowd of journalists for a moment. "As I am addressing you an envoy of the three alien civilizations, all members of what they call the 'Citadel Council', are on their way to meet our own diplomats." he finished before looking directly into the cameras. "I thank you for your attention and ask all of you to remain calm even in face of what might the most important days of mankind's history."

As the man walked away he lifted his right hand towards his face and wiped away the tears that now began pouring from his eyes. The reporter observing could guess why, after all it was part of his job to pay attention to details, but chose not to blurt it into the audience. No need to pour salt into an open wound. A man like him didn't deserve that.

* * *

 **5\. October 2383 AD, Arcturus Station**

"The broadcasts are all live now," Admiral Jun said as she sat down at the round table and placed the folder with the familiar sigil of the HSA on its wooden surface. The golden eagle watching over an empty globe on a red and white flag. It was a symbol of the HSA's loyalty to any of its world, not just Earth. The familiar Latin saying engraved under the globe itself added was the promise they had given to mankind. Semper Vigilo, always watchful.

"I take it similar speeches are given on all our colonies?" the man at the head of the table asked as he looked at the projection of the speech given by Arcturus Station's head of security who had been chosen to inform the people living on the station.

"Yes, Sir," the rough voice of the scarred man sitting across from the admiral answered as his eyes darted towards him. His black uniform stood as a stark contrast to the naval blue one worn by members of the HSA Navy and it revealed him to be a member of humanity's tip of the spear, the HSAMC. The 5 golden bars solidified his status as the highest ranking and therefor leader of said organization.

"So what's our game plan?" General Stelios, his name revealing greek roots, turned towards him, the commander in chief of all HSA forces.

"For now all we can do is wait what the meeting of our diplomats reveals," Chancellor Francis Noé, the most powerful human alive as far as most people were concerned, said while meeting the gaze of the marine before he turned towards the person responsible for the majority of all human military personal. "I take it the army will be capable of upholding public order should this cause any trouble on our colonies?", everyone was aware that he was mostly worried about the Fringe Worlds, the part of human space that had been the site of humanity's most destructive war.

"Of course. With martial law still in place and the streets being patrolled by our Colonial Watches there shouldn't be any more problems than usual," the man in the green uniform explained as he folded his hands. "We will remain in control of the situation, Sir."

"I don't doubt you or the army, General Vasquez. I just fear that the separatists could use this to usher in new support for their cause," Noé sighed as he drummed his fingers on his desk until he placed his hands in the air as if the words would appear between them. "'Alien Threat! The HSA won't be able to protect us, rise up, now!'," the chancellor said in his best impression of a propaganda broadcast. "I can already see their stupid posters," Noé muttered as he returned to a more serious tone. "When are our diplomats meeting they envoy?" he turned towards the minister for alien relations, Victor Kadlec, the man holding a position that had been considered a consolation prize until yesterday.

"They should make contact in a few minutes," the man replied, blood shot eyes revealing that he had been working through the night to help organize the meeting.

"Let's just hope our envoy doesn't get massacred," the chancellor said as he sat up straight in his chair, ready to address the other elephant in the room. "However we still have to talk about what exactly we are going to do about these 'yahg'."

"I can have two fleets mobilized and be in that system by the end of the week," Admiral Jun, the woman in charge of all naval assets of humanity, suggested. "The Sun Tzu is still in orbit but they weren't supposed to engage in ground combat of this scale so their stockpiles are far more depleted than preferable. The fleets we could mobilize to reinforce it are the 7th and 10th fleet, both having dreadnoughts."

The blue image of the nine hundred meter long craft she was referring to, a modified Everest-Class chassis, started to assemble in the center of the room. The long craft was optically almost identical to the sledgehammer of the navy, a nick name given to the Everest-Class due to serving as the main source of firepower for nearly thirty years now. The assault carriers, one of which was now slowly rotating in front of him, were the newest vessels within the HSA Navy and had been commissioned into service during the war between the HSA and a separatist movement that had seen the need for a ship that could do what the Sun Tzu and her five sister ships were able to do. Originally designed to enable HSA forces to retake their lost planets, the ships had turned into armed first responders after the conclusion of the war two years ago. The flying military bases, while capable of space combat, had to sacrifice the room an Everest-Class mass accelerator required to allow for their bigger armories, designated orbit to ground weapons and a respectable flight deck.

Just as the projection had finished its current rotation, it vanished with the press of the button.

"Given enough time the Einstein would be capable of joining the 10th Fleet as well. She just finished her retrofit last week," the admiral began as she brought up the image of one of humanity's carriers, "but the crew would still need some time to get her ready for deployment. As things are, she could be fully operational in two days."

The Einstein-Class, slightly smaller than human dreadnoughts and assault carriers only meassured roughly eight hundred eighty meters and ,like the assault carriers, had to sacrifice the giant mass accelerator that ran along the spine of an Everest-Class ship. It didn't have access to the equally impressive broadside batteries both the assault carriers and Everest-Class ships spotted and its armor was far less durable. Instead the Einstein and her four sister ships, the Tesla, the Benjamin Davis, the Hawking and the Newton were capable of individually releasing one hundred ten Hornet fighters and ninety designated Trident interceptors. Said strike craft would launch disrupter torpedoes into enemy vessels while their mother ships hanged back to avoid an enemy ships firing into their hangar bays. While it sounded strange, the concept had proven itself to be very successful during the Fringe Wars.

"Yet my suggestion is to simply blockade the planet. They pose no danger to us at the moment," the admiral finally added.

"I take it you're all but ready to land on that world yourself, General Stelios?" the chancellor turned towards the man in charge of the HSAMC. After all, his service branch was closely tied to the navy, working as two pieces of a very effective machine.

"While I certainly wouldn't mind giving them some payback for the marines they got, I have to agree that a blockade of the planet is the smartest move," he threw a glance towards his own folder. "They have to come to us, if they even have the ability to do so."

"Any objections?" the chancellor asked.

No member of the government or military within the room voiced any. After all, why risk getting into a fist fight if you can just shoot down everyone coming at you?

"Alright turn on the feed from the diplomatic ship, we all need to see this."

* * *

 **2125 CE, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

"-and after receiving the transmission of the THS Angelus they shipped the surviving members of the CSS N'vas Thelo to the cruiser," the turian admiral finished his report. "As you are aware councilors, our envoy will meet theirs any minute now so I won't take up any more of your time. A more detailed version of the report will be forwarded to each of you once we've finished questioning the crew," he snapped to attention as he waited for the three councilors to say something.

"Thank you, you are dismissed Admiral Quentius," Councilor Tevos, the representative of the asari, released him.

The turian turned towards his own representative, Councilor Ioventus and saluted him before walking out of the chambers. As the doors closed the salarian council sighed as Tevos and Ioventus almost immediately locked eyes.

"I can't believe T'Laá would just shoot down the proposal of her securtiy advisor like that." the metallic flanging of a turian voice echoed through the hall. "We hand picked the crew of that vessel. You vouched for her! What was she thinking?"

It was always the same, when something happened that concerned turians and asari and it ended badly the two were at each others throats. Councilor Vaelan had seen it often enough in the past and he was seeing it right now. It wasn't just a political disagreement either, the two politicians seemed to dislike each other for far more than that.

"Just like you vouched for that Lieutenant Aventius, Councilor Ioventus. There is no one to blame here but the yahg," the purple asari said with grace, trying to defuse the situation all the while deflecting the attack on her.

"There isn't? I voted against the entire idea of uplifting another primitive race," Ioventus argued. "It's the Krogan Rebellions all over again, salarian and asari scientists get bored and decide they need to poke the beast with a stick and turians die to wrestle it back into its cave," he folded his arms. There was an ugly truth to his last statement, they all knew that. Some elements of turian society had always felt like the Hierarchy got too little out of being on the council for the effort they invested in upholding its laws. The turians were the single biggest contributor to the fleets of the Citadel Council and had made their entrance into said council after fighting a devastating war with the krogan, a war that resulted in the deaths of countless of turians and given way to anti-council sympathies early on.

More nationalistic groups believed that the Hierarchy would profit from separating itself from the Council or strong arm the weaker, less militaristic salarians and asari into doing their bidding. They believed that turians had spent far too many centuries dying for what they call 'selfish behavior' by the Asari Republics and the Salarian Union. These groups were usually disregarded by the bulk of the turian people but a previous political scandal had revealed that movements like 'Palavani Prima' or 'Just Legion' were supported by a noticeable size of the higher tiers of turian citizens, a demographic that could rise to be the politicians of tomorrow. The fact that the turian councilor, Ioventus, had shot down multiple proposals of the Asari Republics in what asari media called 'stubborn spite' didn't help their current situation either. People were aware that the representative of their police race was not as big of a supporter of the status quo as his colleagues.

Vaelan had to agree with him though, in retrospective he should have known better and vetoed the edict to look for suitable new members but unlike the asari and turian councilor, it wasn't his personal interest that mattered. He had to do what the Dalatrasses told him to do. Salarian society was different from those of the other races on the council, their councilor held less individual power and had to answer to a bigger group of people. While Ioventus only reported to the Primarch of Palaven, the highest authority within the Hierarchy, he had dozens of leaders breathing down his neck.

Tevos and asari politcs were more sublte than that.

While every asari could vote thanks to their e-democracy, a system not found in either the Turian Hierarchy or the Salarian Union, politics tended to be a game played by rich, powerful Matriarchs, asari with centuries of connections and experience. Anyone who believed Tevos to be the gentle negotiator she portrayed herself to be in front of the public, ignored the fact that one had to be ruthless to rise through the higher echelons of the asari government. After all, they had to get past well established, equally ruthless matriarchs. One never quite knew what she'd do next because there were only a handful of people that could influence her.

"Councilor Ioventus, we should not argue on this day of meeting another civilized, space faring race. We should rejoice for the opportunity ahead of us," the asari smiled as she clapped her hands together. "Think of the opportunities this meeting presents."

"I will no-" the turian began as his eyes caught the figure standing in front of them, a young asari maiden. She was most likely an aid of Tevos and Vaelan himself felt very sorry for her right about now.

"What is it?" the turian grunted as the blue asari almost died of fear.

"My a-a-apologies councilors, but the meeting has started," she stuttered as she brought up her omni-tool. "You wanted me to project it into the ch-h-h-amber."

"Of course. Thank you, Jalezina," the asari councilor offered in a much gentler voice, "I will see you later," she hushed the maiden away who quickly walked out of the chamber. "Ioventus, we will continue this discussion on a nother day. This is not over," she turned to face the taller turian.

"Typical," the turian clenched his teeth. "Always running from the fight," he turned away from her and towards the screen above them, not waiting for her to respond again.

"At least they won't argue now," Vaelan thought as he too shifted his eyes to the screen, ready to witness history.

* * *

 _Codex: Human Systems Alliance_

 _Founded after a dispute about the political representation of the human colonies of Terra Nova (est. 2105), Arcadia (est. 2117) and Horizon (est. 2119) the Human Systems Alliance celebrates 5.5.2151 as the day of it's founding, Unification Day._

 _Being founded on the principle of protecting humanity, not just Earth, the Human Systems Alliance is the sole unified government of all worlds settled by mankind and has long since replaced the United Nations of Earth, the government coalition that first settled extrasolar worlds. In the 232 years since it's founding the HSA has expanded into the Attican Traverse and the Skyllian Verge, ignorance of the law prohibiting the opening of deactivated Mass Relays leading to the discovery and colonization of a large amount of inhabitable worlds in the region._

 _Ruled by the parliament and the chancellor of the Human Systems Alliance, the HSA is a representative democracy in which a representative is elected on each colony, their political weight being determined by the importance of the planet they are from and their population, a system that would play a large role in the events leading up to the Fringe Wars. (See Entry 'Fringe Wars)_

* * *

 **A/N: So this story is getting more attention than I expected. Glad so many people like it! :) Anyway I decided on adding a small Codex section at the end of most chapters, something I totally came up with myself and did in no way copy from other writers, I'd never do something like that ;). Let me know what you think. Thanks to all the people who already reviewed or will do so now that I'm telling them to.**

 **Seriously do it now**

 **See you around next time.**

 **Edit: As of 26.7.17 Chapter 2 has been remastered.**

 **Once more, everybody who's just now reading this, just stick through the non remastered versions of 3,4,5 and 6 for now. I'll get to them eventually.**


	3. Jack Harper

**Chapter 3. Jack Harper**

* * *

 **19 Galactic Standard Hours after the Crash,** **2125 CE, CSS D'Kyos**

The silver, asari made envoy vessel silently drifted through the void of the newly discovered,inhabited solar system. Named after the Matriarch Siisra D'Kyos, the asari who had negotiated with the Batarian Hegemony after the regime had seized the independent colony Esan resulting in the release of most of it's inhabitants, the crew of the vessel had once more been handpicked to act as a first contact team in order to follow in the peaceful foot steps of it's name sake.

Once more Tariss M'Tous straightened her dress, after all first impressions were usually the most important impressions, and looked at the time. There were still a few minutes she could use to prepare for the meeting. Deciding that she should know as much about the reason they were as she possibly could, she brought up her omni-tool to look at all the information they had over them for a final time.

Like most of the space faring races inhabiting the known galaxy, these 'humans' were bipedal and seemed to be capable of living in the conditions favoured by most other sapient races. They were obviously capable of using the mass relay network, suggesting at least a basic mastery of the mass effect. She kept reading through the first reports and came to a halt on the picture of the first human they had seen without a helmet, a naval officer that had contacted the turian cruiser responding to the survey ship's distress beacon. Looking at the creature, a patch of dark fur on his head, concern washed over her. However it wasn't the uncanny similarity between her own people and him that concerned her, no it was something far more worrying that. The worry she felt was caused by the naval formation this 'Captain Gates' was in charge of, the dreadnought-analogue and its escort ships floating above the planet, most likely inspiring a sense of dread in the yahg below as they wondered if the strange alien craft were there for them.

A justified dread.

Their green hulls, as far as the scanners of the D'Kyos and the THS Angelus were concerned, were slightly less durable than those of average council war ships and first readings suggested that the vessels in fact lacked kinetic barriers, instead projecting an as of yet unknown energy field around them that the salarian technician aboard the D'Kyos believed to be capable of deflecting not only objects but also energy, something their own shielding technology was incapable of doing. But the differences didn't stop there. Instead of using a spinal-mounted maingun, the ship seemed to use most of the space usually occupied by a dreadnought's maingun for something else they had yet to discover as the scanners of the D'Kyos hadn't been able to penetrate any further, the strange shielding technology ,either on purpose or as an unknown side effect, interfering with it. But the ship itself wasn't the only reason to concern, the number and size of its escorts also suggested that whoever they had come into contact with had either committed their entire navy to this meeting or possessed far more naval vessels than any of the non-council members. Joining the largest alien ship were twenty two vessels of smaller size, ranging from frigate-analogues to cruisers to something in between the two.

The last time a fleet of this size had taken part in a first contact had been when the Turian Hierarchy had stumbled onto the Citadel Council during the Krogan Rebellions.

As the D'Kyoss continued to advance towards the diplomatic vessel of 'humanity', which was as far as they had informed them a quickly repurposed military ship roughly the size of a turian frigate, she also wondered as to why these people didn't possess a diplomatic ship. Did they not wish for cooperation with other civilizations or had they simply given up on it due to past events? Had they even encountered alien life before or had all of their encounters turned hostile? After all they were obviously building dreadnoughts. When one combined that fact with the number of other ships present in the system, it was reasonably to believe that they weren't exactly new to space travel or strangers to war. Behavioral analysts believed that the construction of a dreadnought was usually triggered by either a prolonged conflict between multiple planets or a war with another, hostile race. The asari hadn't built ships of that scale until the Rachni Wars and neither had the Salarian Union, the volus,the quarians, the elcor or the hanar.

Even the Batarian Hegemony, at the time already an aggressive regime, hadn't created a single dreadnought until centuries after contact with the council. Only the Turian Hierarchy had managed, or rather bothered as far as the pacifistic part of her mind was concerned, to create warships of such scale before encountering another alien race as their Unification Wars caused them to construct their first dreadnoughts. The again one had to consider that the Turian Hierarchy had been the civilization of highest individual development upon contact with the Citadel Council, a feat that may very well be challenged now.

First encountered seven hundred years after the Rachni Wars and well into the Krogan Rebellions, the turians had already fought a devastating war with their own colonies before making contact with a volus trade ship fleeing from krogan raiders. Before then the turians had independently established a larger colonial empire than the asari or the salarians had managed to do before encountering each other. In fact most scientists agreed that their growth had only been slowed by the unique biology turians only shared with the quarians, their dextro-amino acids. Due to most worlds in the galaxy being based on levo-amino acids, a common theory among the scientific community was the idea that had the turians not been limited by a biological factor, the Hierarchy would've been even more powerful than the Citadel Council by the time they encountered each other.

In her opinion the current balance of power was far better for the galaxy as a whole.

* * *

 **In another part of the ship**

Ambassador Iss had gotten exactly two standard hours of sleep within the last twenty standard hours. Anyone else would be incredibly tired by now.

However being a salarian meant that he only required a fraction of the sleep his turian and asari colleagues needed to stay sharp. On the contraty, he was buzzing with energy and excitement at the thought of being the salarian that set a new race onto the path of joining the Citadel Council and the galactic community as a whole. After all the members of the Citadel Council always profited from a new associate race. In the past the new arrivals hadn't come close to matching the big three in terms of development, scale and technological understanding and as such the Asari Republics, the Salarian Union and the Turian Hierarchy could make each associate depend on them in their respective fields of expertise. It was a fair deal really, the Council would offer diplomatic ties, technology and protection for star charts, cooperation and mining rights.

The asari profited from new races the most as they'd become new clients for their Element Zero trade, the rare material responsible for the mass effect. The first race to discover the Citadel held claim to most of the biggest mineral deposits in the known galaxy, controlling the largest share of the market not only because Thessia and other early asari colonies were the site of vast Eezo deposits but also because they used the wealth and influence generated by the material to maintain their monopoly. This policy was one of the few most of the loosley connected states making up the Asari Republics shared.

While not in the same way as their allies, the Salarian Union could also profit from new races coming to the galactic stage. The ruling dalatrasses tended to offer outdated technology to the lesser advanced associate races in exchange for seemingly worthless asteroids or barely hospitable planets the Union used to sublty increase its power. Where others saw a world that would make for a sorry colony, the salarians saw the opportunity to terraform an uncontested planet to support their ever growing population and where others saw just another asteroid filled with metals found all over the galaxy, the Union saw the potential site for another listening post.

Iss brought up his omni-tool and went through every piece of information they had about this new civilization, most of which happened to be their military technology. Apparently the race still used primitive weapons based on gun powder and lead bullets. This was a good thing for the salarians, the dalatrasses of the more militant realms had already voiced their interest in emptying staches of outdated weaponry in exchange for mining rights they could use to further develop their respective planets. Once the race realised the disadvantages of their guns, they'd be more than willing to take that trade. He switched the orange hologram and it displayed the next report, once more relevant for the more militant parts of salarian society. The lack of kinetic barriers on regular infantry men. As the report of one Lieutenant Aventius indicated, the human soldiers lacked modern kinetic shielding instead trusting hardsuits of an as of yet unknown but still resilient composition to stop projectiles. While the Union would never give up the state-of-the-art barriers used by STG or their naval infantry, surely there was something to gain from dusting off the countless barrier projectors built during the Geth War. Perhaps a look at their infantry armor would give valuable insight into why they didn't feel the need to shield their soldiers.

The third report he looked at was also written by the head of security and mentioned a mobile, humanoid fighting platform, a semi-corrupted video file attached to it. Ambassador Iss pressed play, the disrupted footage starting up not a second later, and felt his already big eyes widen with each second of the recording he watched. Combat mechs weren't exactly new to the galaxy and everyone had heard the stories of giant geth combat platforms tearing apart quarian infantry formations during the war on Rannoch. Yet this one was very different from the already existing designs. Between bursts of static, he could make out the large, humanoid figure in the distance. It moved with a speed and grace thought impossible of a construct of that size and if the burning jungle it was carving through was any indication, it inspired a terror in the yahg forces around it. The recording cut of just as the mech shrugged of a volley of tank fire, taking little visible damage from the salvo before dashing off into the direction it had been shot from. It would seem that he had just found something that could interest the Salarian Union far more than any second-grade planet or asteroid. A technology like this betrayed a mastery of robotics and virtual intelligence that could rival even that of the Quarian Conclave at the height of its power shortly before their downfall at the hands of their own creations.

Sending the report to STG, salarians liked to win their wars before they even started and as an old salarian saying went, the allies of today could be the enemies of tomorrow, the ambassador kept reading. The report went on to describe that one such machine was destroyed in a miniscule nuclear explosion, hinting at its power source, and that one pilot had been killed during it.

The ambassador doubled back and read the last sentence again, a pilot?

During his first viewing the salarian had been under the believe that the machine he was looking at was just that, a machine. How could a living being possibly steer something that complicated with such ease? The movements were far too fluid and precise to be created by anything but a very sophisticated virtual intelligence, yet the report on his omni-tool made it clear that these machines, no they weren't machines, they were some sort of combat suit, were steered by a living, breathing person inside them. How had they achieved something like that? How could a person so fluidly control something that big?

He definitely found something the Salarian Union needed to get their hands on. There were so many possible applications of a technology like that.

* * *

 **In another part of the ship**

Luctius Bellarian was different from his fellow diplomats because like most turians, he had spent a reasonable part of his life serving in the military. He wasn't a career politician. While his colleagues had climbed the political leader of their societies, he had served in the Turian Naval Intelligence, TNI. His past work in the shady world of galactic espionage was one of the reasons he had been selected to act as the Hierarchy's diplomat on this occasion. He was more observant than most of his fellow turians, he was sharper than most salarians and most importantly, far more patient than most asari. The Turian Hierarchy knew that every time a new associate was encountered, the asari and the salarians struggled to get the biggest possible advantage out of them, consolidating with each other while sidelining the rest of the Citadel Council, associates and fellow Council members alike. They had done it with the drell, they had intended to do it with the yahg and now they'd attempt to do it with these new arrivals.

The Primarch of Palaven had been clear when he had called in Bellarian.

Not this time.

While the naval intelligence officer turned diplomat was certain that his fellow ambassadors were currently going over the reports for the tenth time just to make sure they were perfectly prepared for the meeting, he felt no need to do such a thing. Years of dangerous had taught him that he was prepared and very capable of the tasks put on his shoulders. Otherwise he wouldn't have been the one to be granted the responsibility of achieving them. The Turian Hierarchy put their faith in him and he wouldn't disappoint it. But even as he reminded himself of his professionalism, he couldn't help but look forward to the meeting. This 'Human Systems Alliance', in their first contact with the Council, had displayed traits greatly admired by turian society. To not turn away from a stranger in need and to heed a plead for help, even in the face of danger, was one of the pillars of turian society. No one would've known that their ship had picked up the distress call and no one would've known if they had ignored it. According to his culture, the truest test of character was the one no one but the person tested bared witness to.

It was a test, as far as Bellarian was concerned, that these strangers had passed. The list of survivors from the CSS N'vas Thelo stood as a testament to this believe, even if the minority of said survivors were turians. He shook his had not in sadness but in respect, such was their duty. It was a mantle they had taken up when entering the role of the peacekeepers of the Council and there was no higher calling for a turian than his duty. The asari crew that had survived, had done so because turians had given their lives to buy them time. Whoever they were in these lives, those turians had earned their place with the spirit of their legion. They had brought honor to their unit and would be remembered for their actions on this faithful day. Yet it wasn't just the turians that had given their lives on this day, no, the strangers he was about to meet had made a similar sacrifice, only the fact that it had not been their duty to do so setting them apart from the latest casualties of the Hierarchy's promise to the galaxy.

His omni-tool buzzed and he stood up from his desk and opened the door of his office.

It was time.

"We've finished docking with the alien vessel. Members of the diplomatic envoy and security team, please report to the airlock," the voice of the salarian captain declared through his ear piece, the translator helping him understand the otherwise completely alien language of the person in command of their ship. He walked through the white corridors of the D'Kyoss and after a few steps met up with his salarian colleague, who's face lit up upon spotting him. He was wearing the usual robes any diplomat of their people donned shortl before an important meeting. Iss had yet to pull up the hood of his robe, which would cover a good portion of his head, as salarians believed that during negotiations only the face was important, their culture had opted for covering the rest of the head in formal meetings altogether. Bellarian would've laughed at the notion if it weren't his people who were still painting their face to mark their home planet. Every race had a weird tick if one bothered to look deep enough into their culture. Asari would spend centuries roaming the galaxy looking for excitement, the hanar had their soul names, the elcor always felt the need to state how they were feeling before talking and the batarians placed way to much emphasis on which side the head of the person speaking to them was tilted towards. If only that would be the biggest flaw of theirs.

"There you are Luctius. I haven't seen you since we hit the relay," Iss stated as they continued their path. "Are you well?"

"Yes I am, as to my absence, like you I prepared for the meeting," the flanging voice of the turian declared, even if it wasn't the truth.

"Truly exciting, isn't it?" the salarian replied. "Tell me, have you seen the recordings of their combat mechs?"

"That I have, Iss," Bellarian replied, trying his best not to sound too annoyed. While he didn't have a personal issue with the salarian, he didn't like just how talkative the tall, greenish amphibian was either. "Very impressive, useful as well."

"Think about the possibilites the technologies behind it could give to us," the ambassador replied, the individual words of his sentence almost blending together due to the rapid pace in which he talked. "Even outside of warfare."

"I'm sure we'll learn about these mechs in due time," he reassured his companion both out of politeness and in an attempt to shut him up. As they walked past the cabin of Tariss M'Tous, the matriarch that would represent her people in this meeting the diplomat left her chambers as well, the unrivaled, almost ancient grace with which she carried herself typical for people of her standing.

"Hello, Ambassador Iss," she greeted with a smile before offering a simple nod to the turian," Bellarian."

"Matriarch," he returned the greeting, well aware of her intentionally leaving out the title only recently bestowed on him. He had done his research, Matriarch Tariss M'Tous had a lot to say about the turians but little of it was positive. She was part of a small but present group of powerful asari that saw his people as far too militaristic for their own, or rather the galaxy's, good.

"I take it you are prepared?" she asked as she took her position between the two.

"Yes," he replied after a much longer reply of his salarian companion.

"Then we shall begin," the matriarch instructed before the group began walkign forward.

Both parties of the meeting had agreed to meet half way in the airlock tunnel now connecting their vessels. They would arrive without any security details, a reasonable decision considering that the humans had displayed no signs of hostile intend up to now and begin the talks on the neutral grounds in the center of the tunnel. The human government, the so called Human Systems Alliance, would only sent one representative and they themselves would speak as much for the Citadel Council as they'd speak for their own respective governments. They stepped into the chamber dividing the rest of the D'Kyos from the now connected airlocks and waited. The airlock closed and a voice announced that decontamination would now begin. After all no one wanted to carry over any bacteria until it was certain that they wouldn't do any harm. After the thin fume washed over them and dispersed itself from the room, the doors in front of them opened and the beginning of a new chapter of galactic history was written.

* * *

 **32 Hours after Contact,** **5\. October 2383 AD, HSASV Agincourt**

Originally the Agincourt was supposed to be retrofitted with several new torpedo batteries at Arcturus, the biggest naval yard of humanity besides the facilities above Earth and Luna but when an envoy was needed, the frigate had been picked to carry Baxter Martell, a representative of the Ministry for Alien Relations, to the diplomatic meeting. The brunette man was currently walking towards the airlock as he was about to open diplomatic relationships with three advanced civilizations, an even the had trained for for the better part of the last twelve years of his life. It was a big responsibility to be the selected first contact diplomat of the ministry but until very recently, it had mostly been seen as an assignment one took if they wanted a secure position in the government without actually ever having to work. While it was far from the truth, he understood where the sentiment had come from. The ministry had been established at the dawn of the HSA when humanity had still been optimistic about the prospect of encountering another space faring race after finding both the ruins of an alien outpost on Mars and encountering alien fauna and flora on the three colonies founded before their unification, Terra Nova, Horizon and Arcadia.

But as his people further expanded into space, that optimism began to fade with every time their search turned up only more ruins or simple alien life. With every decade that passed, his ministry grew more irrelevant as the belief that mankind had missed the great phase of galactic life grew more predominant in his society. A belief he had grown to accept as well, at least until he had been woken up by a very excited Minister Victor Kadlec.

"How's that for never going to achieve anything, Mr Roberts?" he chuckled at the thought of his late high school teacher who had always hated his guts. He turned the corner of the grey corridor to find the airlock of the vessel in front of him. While both sides had agreed to meet without guards, a fireteam of the navy's special forces was currently waiting right next to the airlock and just out of view. The team were all graduates of the N-program, a selection process that consisted of seven steps and eventually produced some of the best soldiers mankind had to offer. The four men had boarded the ship alongside him without saying much, they didn't have to. It was generally said that out of a thousand soldiers that applied for Interplanetary Combatives Training, ICT, only twenty would eventually complete the course. Those who did usually dedicated their life towards their mission, creating a reputation for themselves only three distinctive groups within the HSA could rival.

"We got your back, Sir," the leader of the team, one Petty Officer 2nd Class Anderson, assured him as they stepped back from the hissing airlock and Baxter Martell adjusted the glasses that would film the meeting. "Anything happens, we're in there in three seconds."

He threw a grateful nod into the man's direction and opened the airlock, stepping inside after taking a deep breath to calm his ever faster beating heart. After decontaminating him, the airlock shot up way faster than he had expected it to and Martell saw three figures, one envoy of each race, step into the corridor in front of him.

The figure to the right was a 'salarian' if he recalled the report correctly. He was very thin and taller than Martell, his body mostly covered by a robe and a hood. The parts of him that were visible, his face, spotted green skin and was dominated by a pair of eyes far bigger than the report had suggested. In the center of the row was an 'asari', while she looked somewhat human, some of her features just felt wrong to Martell. She could probably be seen as attractive if one managed to ignore the lack of ears and the crest at the end of her head. Her skin was a shade of blue and, like most human woman, she was smaller than him, making her the only member of the row that did not look down on him. Her face was decorated with fine white lines, which did not appear to be natural, and her expression mirrored that of a human smile. Finally the left figure was a 'turian' and by far the most intimidating member of the pack. The alien was covered in skin plates and possessed mandibles, sharp teeth and a blue tongue visible through the small gap between them and his actual mouth. If Martell had to guess, the pointy end of his, at least he assumed it was a male, fingers were probably retracted talons and the structure of his legs suggested that the alien most likely evolved from some sort of predator. His face had red marks either tattooed or painted on it and if he had to describe the creature, the best he could to was call it a cross between a bird and a dinosaur.

"Snap out of it," he slapped himself, probably to the confusion of the aliens, before opening his mouth when reaching the middle of the tube slightly before the other group. Quick pace was something he had learned in the army, the three years of enlisted service his father had talked him into paying off once more. Deciding that he shouldn't seem intimidated, he took the initiative. "My name is Baxter Martell, designated First Contact Representative of the Ministry for Alien Relations," he extended his hand, hoping the gesture translated to at least one of them. "I was chosen to make formal contact with you."

The asari walked up and grabbed his hand almost instantaneously. At first he was relieved that apparently it wasn't an incredible insult to offer a hand in their culture but then he wondered if the gesture was either more common than he had believed or if they already knew more about humans than they wanted him to know. After shaking it she said something and his ear piece translated it while trying to mimic the sound of her voice. The translator was quickly crafted after receiving instructions from the alien vessel some hours ago and it was a simple design combining the already present translation software with a smaller device.

It was working quite good.

"Greetings. I am Matriarch M'Tous, ambassador of the Citadel Council and the Asari Republics," she said with a tone that had a certain harmony to it. "These are my colleagues," her hand gestured towards the other two as they stepped forward.

"Ambassador Iss of the Citadel Council and the Salarian Union," the amphibian walked a few steps forward and Martell offered him his hand. The feeling of three long fingers grabbing his hand was strange, there was no other way to put it. The grip of the creature was weaker than he had expected it to be and as their eyes met the salarian blinked but instead of what Martell expected, his eyelids moved upwards and his mouth turned into what Martell assumed to be a smile. The salarian let go of his hand and took a step back as the turian moved forward, his foot steps sounding surprisingly soft considering his presumed weight and evident seize.

"And Ambassador Bellarian of the Citadel Council and the Turian Hierarchy," the other diplomat stepped forward and took Martell's hand. It took some composure for him not to draw back in fear of the presumably sharp claws the alien possessed but Martell managed to beat back his instincts only to realise that the turian's talons were either retracted or simply dull.

"On behalf of the Council and the Hierarchy I thank you for saving the crew stranded on Parnack," Bellarian began, a flanging in his voice. "We won't forget this."

The turian let go of Martell's hand and stepped back into the row of the other two ambassadors.

"As representatives of the Citadel Council it is our pleasure to offer humanity the possibility of an embassy on the Citadel," the asari spoke. "The Asari Republics wish for nothing but cooperation and shared prosperity between our people."

"We are willing to offer you assistance in research and trade technologies with your government," the salarian went on. "Furthermore the Union wishes to trade with your kind on an individual level as well. There is much we can learn from each other."

"And the Council is also willing to offer you protection from any enemy should you chose to become its associate," Bellarian's flanging voice echoed through the empty corridor, the lack of a second, individual offer standing out to Martell.

"I'm grateful for the opportunities you offer but I'm only a representative. A deal on this scale will require additional meetings to talk about all the conditions attached to it," Martell explained, " and even then I can't make this decision."

"We understand that but we still wish to trade some basic information," Matriarch M'Tous offered a smile. "We'd like to know more about your race."

"The Citadel Council is always interested in cultural exchange," the salarian added.

"After all, honesty is the surest way towards cooperation," the turian finished.

"Of course, but I also have some questions," Martell replied as he folded his hands behind his back, taking a stance that was both comfortable and non-threatening at the same time.

"We understand and we stand ready to answer every question you have. I propose that we move this exchange to the more comfortable meeting room inside our ship," the asari offered.

"I don't recommend that, Sir," his ear piece informed him as the N7 on the human side of the airlock broke his radio silence. One the one side he didn't think that they'd actually try to harm him while their vessel was still docked to a human warship. On the other hand he didn't know what he was getting himself into.

There was only one way to find out.

"I'd like that very much," Martell finally said. A leap of faith never harmed anyone, right?

"Then if you'd please follow us, Ambassador Martell." the salarian said as he turned to reveal the door behind him.

His feet started to move towards the alien airlock and after only a few meters, he was standing inside the airlock next to the three ambassadors.

"Do not be alarmed, a decontamination will commence before the seal is opened," Bellarian explained just as the airlock shut behind them and a thin fume started to appear around them. He felt a liquid touch his skin but it dried immediately. He chose not to ask why they thought he didn't know about decontamination protocols and soon the white airlock hissed open, revealing the inside of the alien starship to him. Unlike the human frigate, its inside was colored in a bright white color that almost stung in his eyes if not for the bluish light dampening the contrast. The corridors were smoother than the ones on the Agincourt and unlike on the warship, the walls were completely barren, only the doors to adjacent rooms breaking their surface.

"Welcome abroad the D'Kyoss," the asari offered. "It's one of the many diplomatic vessles the Citadel Council uses to negotiate with the multiple races under it's authority."

"Just how many races are there?" Martell said as his eyes quickly adjusted to the new enviroment.

"There are the volus, the batarians, the salarians, the turians, the asari, the hanar, the elcor and the drell," the asari began as he kept count. "However not all races of the galaxy are associates of the Council and only the Turian Hierarchy, the Salarian Union and the Asari Republics belong to the actual Council. The quarians, the vorcha or the krogan do not have an embassy on the Citadel at the moment," she kept explaining before turning to him. "Tell me, have your people ever encountered any other races? You seem very surprised."

"No," Martell admitted. "Everywhere we went, we just found ruins. Before meeting your kind the majority of the HSA Government believed that the galaxy was simply too big and too old to ever find another space faring civilization. Turns out we were wrong, after all this time we foud four in one day."

"If you don't mind me asking, just how long has your kind traveled the stars?" the salarian asked as they walked through the corridors, several crew members looking at him with curiosity in their eyes as the group passed by an intersection.

"Well we first set foot on a celestial body other than our homeworld four hundred fourteen human years ago," he looked at their faces after doing the quick calculation in his head. Of course that number would mean nothing to him. "That's a long time for us, back then we only lived for seventy," he tried to elaborate.

"And how long has your kind utilized Mass Effect technology?" the salarian asked once more, "By this I mean how long have you used the network to travel?"

"Two hundred eighty three years," he answered quickly, the fortunate coincidence of the first mass effect flight taking place in the year 2100 AD playing into his favour. "How long has your kind traveled the stars?"

"The asari discovered the Citadel 2645 standard years ago and the salarians joined us 2585 standard years ago. Said meeting caused the foundation of the Citadel Council," the asari explained as she hijacked the conversation. "Contact with the Hierarchy was established in 700CE and today we mark the year 2125 CE."

"However the Hierarchy itself has been space faring for over two thousand standard years as well," Bellarian quickly added, probably not wanting to be left out of the picture.

"Of course," the asari looked at him as the turian shrugged, "I did not mean to offend you."

"That's a long time," Martell whistled which caused the figures to look at him, the source of the weird sound. "Sorry it's a human thing," he smiled. "I believe it's your turn to ask a question now?"

"Indeed it is. The Council would like to know what kind of government your people use, who represents humanity?" M'Tous questioned as they walked into the meeting room and set down on a piece of furniture that roughly resembled a couch.

"That would be the Human Systems Alliance. Every planet within the HSA votes for a representative to stand up for its interests in the parliament on Arcturus," he explained, finally able to use the degree in political science he had been required to earn for this position.

"I presume 'Arcturus' is your home world?" the matriarch said as she called for an aid to deliver some sort of beverage.

"No, it's just the seat of our government," Martell replied as he declined the offer of a drink. After all, he didn't know just what it was they were drinking.

"So it's a colonized world with the sole purpose to serve as a bureaucratic center?" she took a sip out of the cup. The drink smelled too sweat for Martell's liking. "Impressive."

"No, Arcturus is a space station," he said as all three turned towards him. "We build it and from what I gathered it's not unlike your 'Citadel', just smaller and selfmade."

"How much smaller?" the salarian chipped in as he brought up an omni-tool, probably to take notes. Martell could already tell that his race was the curious kind.

"I am afraid I can't answer that question yet. I am under orders to not reveal sensitive information. My apologies but I hope you understand."

"That we do," the turian said. "I take it my questions about your military fall under these orders?" he said while drinking a blue liquid from a separate source than the asari.

"I'm afraid so," Martell shrugged. "I believe it is my turn to ask?"

"Indeed it is," the matriarch nodded. "What do you wish to know?"

"How does your Citadel Council work?" he asked. "I mean what kind of government is it?"

"That's an excelent question. The Citadel Council serves as the highest authority in Citadel space and acts as a mediator between the races of the galaxy," she explained. "As I already told you, the three members of the Council are the Hierarchy, the Union and the Republics. These three races all elect a councilor who come together to form the Citadel Council. It's acts as executive committee."

"The Council doesn't hold any actual authority over the individual governments but any race with an embassy on the station is required to agree to the Citadel Conventions, a series of treaties introduced after the Krogan Rebellions," the salarian went on. It seemed that the ambassadors tried to talk to him in equal shares. "But its decisions are of galactic importance and usually the opinions of the councilors are those of the races they represent."

"So wait, the races that have an embassy don't actually have a say in what the Council does?" Martell looked at the three representatives. "Sorry, I broke our rule. Go on."

"No need to apologize, I understand your curiosity," the matriarch smiled before beginning to explain. "Any associate race may send their ambassador to make a proposal to the councilors, while they can't take part in the actual vote, their opinions are valued."

"As you may recall my race was encountered at a later point." the turian injected. "A seat on the Council is earned when a race does something that helps the entire galaxy. The Turian Hierarchy stood up to defend the Council from the krogan during the Krogan Rebellions and ss a reward for stopping them we were offered a seat on the Council," he took a sip of his blue drink before continuing, "any race that delivers a contribution valuable to the rest of the galaxy can receive such an offer."

"May I ask another question?" Martell inquired, well aware of breaking the rules he sat.

"Of course, that is the purpose of this meeting." the Matriarch offered a smile.

"You've mentioned these 'Krogan Rebellions' a couple of times now, what exactly happened back then?" he questioned.

"The Krogan Rebellions were a conflict that began shortly before the Council met the Turian Hierachy. The 'krogan'" Bellarian airquoted much to Martell's surprise, "due to the nature of their homeworld, enjoyed a birthrate far greater than that of any other races and when the salarians freed them of the shackles of 'Tuchanka' their population exploded and caused them to require more territory that available at the time."

"As a result, the krogan annexed Council colonies to sustain themselves and shortly after hostilities broke out and war of attrition started," the salarian explained. "Due to their numbers, a krogan victory seemed inevitable given enough time. Our ancestors put up an admirable fight but the krogan were advancing on all theatres of the war in spite of our best efforts. The Council was simply far too outnumbered."

"But all of that changed when we encountered the turians and asked for their aid," the asari took over as she smiled at Martell in spite of the subject. "The legions of the Hierarchy managed to stop the krogan rampage two relay jumps from Thessia. However the krogan, in their violent nature, began to use weapons of mass destruction on turian worlds, the damaged combined with their numbers slowly but surely once more tipping the tide of the war in their favour."

"Eventually we were forced to deploy a weapon called the Genophage on Tuchanka, their homeworld," the turian himself started, "nad it crippled their ability to reproduce and with their biggest advantage removed, the Hierarchy managed to subdue the krogan after decades of brutal fighting. The krogan have not been a threat since," there was a sound of pride in his voice.

"I see," Martell said. As history was written by the victor, he took everything with a grain of salt but to him it seemed reasonable to stop such a dangerous threat from occurring again. After all, he couldn't claim that the HSA wouldn't do the same if the situation called for it. The Fringe Wars had shown just how far his people were willing to go even when facing off against each other, he didn't know just what the HSA would've done to the krogan.

"I'm sorry, I once more broke our rule. By all means, ask me something." he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, with an apologetic smile.

"Then let's talk about your race a bit more," the Matriarch said. "Your history, your evolution. Surely we can find something that interests us all."

"I will answer all of your questions to the best of my abilities," Martell said as he leaned back into the alien couch-analogue.

"And we appreciate it. To start of why don't you tell us about the rise of your civilization?"

* * *

 **Three Months after the Meeting, 7. December 2383 AD, Arcturus Station**

The recording was paused at that moment and the eyes of the Chancellor met the blue orbs of his guest. According to his file, his eyes were experimental prosthetics, given to him after a botched mission caused him to lose his original pair. While he had never seen anything quite like them, he didn't put it past the man's organisation to find a way to keep someone like him in the fight.

"Do you know why I'm showing you this, Specialist Harper?" Noé asked as the man in front of him looked at the paused recording.

"I am certain you're going to tell me that right about now," the taller shifted in his chair, the sigil on his uniform revealing him to be an agent of the HSAIS, the intelligence agency of the Human Systems Alliance, a single red dagger on his shoulder confirming his allegiance towards the most secretive branch of the already shady organisation.

"You counted how many alien races Matriarch M'Tous mentioned?" the leader of humanity asked him instead of revealing the actual purpose.

"Eleven," the man replied. "but we also have to factor in the 'yahg', so twelve."

"Exactly. Eleven space faring races, all of them potential dangers towards humanity," Noé nodded. "Do you know one of the most important priorities of the HSA? A priority these races could threaten?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course he knew it. He had read the field manuals, just like everyone else.

"Ensure the survival of the human race by any means necessary," he answered, his reply sounding almost like a quote from a field manual.

"In order to that, we'll need to adapt. We may need to venture into the abyss. Become something we never thought we'd be capable of becoming," the chancellor looked outside of his office window and into the vastness of space, countless of small dots covering the otherwise black horizon. "I called you here because your service record shows that you're willing to do what's necessary," the monitor shifted from the recording of the meeting to display the service record of one ' Specialist Jack Harper', however unlike most of the times nothing was censored.

"You did a lot of things, Jack Harper," the chancellor began to address him. "First off, I guess I should thank you. It says right here that you foiled my assassination by killing an entire team of Iffy' assassins," a low whistle escaped from the mouth of Noè after reading through the rest of the record. "By all means, you should be a hero. Too bad none this will never see the light of public. Section 13 made sure of that."

"I don't do this for recognition, Sir," Harper said as he saw the years of his service displayed on the screen. "None of us do."

"Which is exactly why I think you're my guy. I need someone that's not just willing to walk the fine line between good and evil but who's done it before," the chancellor said as he hit a button on his computer and the screen switched towards a file named 'Operation Good Citizen'. The screen flickered for a moment before it started to play the footage of a helmet camera. The owner of said helmet slowly opened the door of a prefabricated colonial building, the sun already setting in the background as he crept through a gap just big enough for him to fit through. The songs of birds in the distance revealed that the tape didn't lack the sound of his movements, he simply made none.

"Besides, if you'd do it for recognition you'd be doing a horrible job. Most people, if they ever saw your entire record, Jack, they'd call you a monster," the chancellor lit a cigarette on fire and started to exhale the smoke. "Tell me about what you did on Shanxi. Tell me how you got rid of the leadership of the IFS," the chancellor said as his eyes became more narrow while the smoke settled in the room, the light above them causing the finer particles to appear as an almost golden dust around them.

"I infiltrated the compound and killed everyone inside," he said with a cold voice while the man on screen snuck up to a guard and broke his neck with a forceful twist before entering the room the soldier had been guarding. A man with the emblem of the IFSDF, a white heptagon, was sitting at the desk located in the center of the room and managed to turn around just in time to be shot in the face by the silenced pistol the figure that recorded the operation was carrying. The shell casing went flying through the air only for a grey gauntlet to catch it before it could hit the ground.

"But you didn't stop there did you?" he said before putting the cigarette towards his mouth. The chancellor inhaled, causing the orange tip to glow more noticeable, and looked at the man in front of him, his posture unchanged, his eyes still the same cold blue.

"No, my orders were clear. No survivors," Harper confirmed detached before both returned their attention to the screen.

The figure placed his armored gauntlet on the mouth of an elderly woman that had awoken due to the commotion in the room. He forced her down to the floor before rapidly jabbing a blade into her neck, keeping his hand in place as the blood started to leak from the wound to keep her silent. When her life left her eyes he removed the stained gauntlet and put the knife back into its hold on his right shoulder. Without as much of a reaction, he walked away from the corpse and turned back towards the man, placing a note in one of the pockets of his jacket. Physical copies were popular with insurgent groups due to the HSA's inability to hack a piece of paper. The white sheet started to turn red but its content remained readable and would eventually do its purpose.

"You made sure of that when you killed their families, correct?" the chancellor pressed on as the figure on the screen walked up to another room and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" a voice said form the inside as an armored hand pushed the door open. The man on the inside seemed to realize that the new arrival didn't have good intentions but was to slow on the draw as an armored fist smashed into his face before he could even reach the weapon on his nightstand. The man collapsed and a boot came crashing down on his face, a nasty crack echoing through the screen and into Noé's office. The figure turned his attention towards the screen that duly illuminated the room with a blue glow, deciding that this device would be sufficient. He walked up to the computer and started to download information all the while uploading false evidence. When he was done he started to walk to the door but stopped when he heard a noise coming from the body on the floor next to him. The figure looked at the injured man crawling away from him and turned towards the bed. He grabbed a pillow from it and quickly caught up to the man still trying to escape him. He pressed the white pillow down on the face of the injured man until he stopped breathing, his muffled screams and desperate attempts of clawing at the armored gauntlets having no effect whatsoever.

"It had to look like they killed each other. Otherwise it would've made them martyrs. The IFS movement needed to be shattered from within, not by an outside force," the specialist explained his action. "Infighting would've resulted in severe civilian casualties and survivors would've nullified the claim of infighting. I needed to make the story convincing."

The man in the video, back then known as 'Illusive Man' continued to creep through the compound. He shot two guards who had been just a second short of raising alarm after they had heard the screams of their superiors and didn't even bother hiding their corpses. The specialist took a sharp turn to the left, dispatching another guard that had been about to fire and came to a halt in front of a circuit box, tearing its protective casing open before pulling out all the wires. The lights went out and the recording was coated in a green filter as he moved through the darkness without being spotted. He shot three more IFS soldiers before he reached a door connecting this compound to the next, spotting another guard with his head towards the starry night and his back towards the specialst. Harper used his knife to tear open the throat of the young separatist without hesitation and the teenager made a gurgling sound as he was trying to talk while his stare drove into the faceless helmet of his killer. He let go of the body and the soldier collapsed in a pool of his own blood, his eyes wide open, still taking in the stars above them.

"I know, I was the one who gave those orders." Noé muttered as Harper entered another building, this one slightly smaller than the other one. He moved through the hallway until he almost stepped on a puppet wearing a pink dress, stopping his left foot only a few centimeters before he would've made contact. Taking care to avoid giving away his position by crushing plastic toys under his armored boot, he avoided several more toys as he moved through the dark corridor. He finally found his next targets in the living room, having fallen asleep while watching a movie. Whether out of mercy or convenience, he killed the couple before either of them could wake up with two rapid shots to the head. The uniform of the IFS officer, naturally a dark red already, only turned redder as the blood of his wife started to leak out of her head and on the cloth that covered her shoulders.

"In our aim to ensure humanity's survival we will have to do things any sane person would consider outright evil," the chancellor said as the Harper in the room kept his eyes locked on the screen while the Harper on the screen heard a sound behind him. He watched himself turn around with his pistol lifted towards the noise, finding a young girl still in her pajamas in his sights.

'What's going on here, who are you?' it sounded from the screen as she rubbed her eyes. "Where's my mo-"

The video froze as fear settled in the girl's eyes upon seeing her parents corpses on the couch behind the specialist.

"I believe that I have an assignment that will require a man with your mindset," Noé said as he nodded towards the screen. "I need this man."

"For what?" Harper smashed his fist on the desk in a surge of anger before he straightened his back, their eyes meeting once more. He reclaimed his composure once more. "What do you want me to do, Sir?" he corrected himself and addressed his superior in a more formal way. The chancellor shoved a tablet towards the agent as the screen in his office turned black, never to reveal how Harper had acted.

The two capitalized words were the first thing Harper's artificial eyes noticed. He recognized the first one from history class. 'Cerberus Initiative'. Cerberus was the dog that guarded the gates of hell from any would be intruders but he was also responsible for keeping any demons from venturing into the realm of the living.

He opened the file and read it's content.

Several ship names stood out to him almost immediately, among them four new cruisers, their crews vetted and approved by HSAIS, the blueprint of a new class of dreadnought attached to them as well. There were theoretical papers on the effect Element Zero could have on unborn children, reports of four separate accidents in 2382 AD that had caused populations to be exposed to Eezo dust, something called the 'BAaT' and a short summary of the biotics observed in several of the species they had encountered. Next there were the star charts the council races transferred after the meeting which highlighted key locations within the galaxy. there were progress reports in regards to research projects like a highly theoretical advanced stealth drive for their frigates and the schematics of 'borrowed' turian weapons retrieved on Parnack. One of the files described a hybrid weapon based on mass effect technology merged with the SR-7, the so called 'SR-8x'. He found information about Parnack, the homeworld of the yahg as well. A detailed scheduel of observation and a standing order to quarantine the planet, to be enforced with deadly force. Further down the intention of establishing a dedicated science division was also mentioned.

Whatever this was, it was big.

Harper kept reading, stumbling onto a register that included approved personal. One of the folders inside included the names of candidates for a combat task force, which were supposed to be small strike teams, conducting black ops operations. Inside there were service records, psychological evaluations and combat scores. Out of curiosity he opened one such evaluation. 'T. Holderman 07072364-TH-88351'. He enlisted during the closing months of the Fringe Wars, missing the war only by a few weeks but was present during the battle on Parnack. There he displayed a lack of empathy for the alien foes but earning both a promotion and a recommendation for the N-program as a result of his action. The marine was currently in N2 phase at ICT and had apparently scored ninety seven out of a hundred possible points during the initial combat rating. Now Harper was curious, so he opened another evaluation, then another and another. There were two distinctive groups among the candidates, one were bloodied veterans that had proven themselves during the Fringe Wars and the other were young but promising soldiers that seemed to have a natural affinity for warfare.

Noé was handing him a small army and some serious thinking power.

"What I want from you is something very important, Jack," the chancellor offered the specialist a cigarette and he took it, it had been a few years since he had smoked but if there was ever a time to fall back into bad habits, it was right about now. Noé leaned forward to light it and soon enough more smoke settled in the office. Both men stayed silent as they let the nicotine calm the tension that had built up in the room and after a few minutes the chancellor exhaled again and put the cigarette stub into the ash tray before looking into the blue, artificial eyes of his chosen candidate.

"I want you to be the dog that guards humanity from the demons lurking at our door."

* * *

 _Codex: Independent Fringe Systems_

 _Originally a political movement that aimed to cede multiple systems at the edge of human territory through peaceful ways, the IFS ,or as some call them 'Iffys', was founded in 2370 after a pirate raid caused the death of 314 human settlers on 'Port Bigby', a newly founded colony in the area known as 'Attican Traverse'._ _As HSA law dictates, colonial worlds are by law denied the right to maintain armed militias, instead being defended by units of the HSA Army Colonial Watch and local police forces. Due to sabotage, the transport vessel carrying the battalion assigned to Port Bigby got stranded for seven days, waiting for repairs just two relay jumps from their target. Following a security leak, a pirate group active in the area learned of the delay and_ _used the time to raid the planet multiple times, massacring colonists and police alike as local authorities tried and failed to put up resistance._

 _After what would be coined as the '314 Incident' by human media outlets, smaller worlds in the Fringe called for a law giving them the right to create armed militia groups to prevent another 314 Incident, the stories of their suffering gathering enough support on the six biggest colonies in the Fringe. Moved by the request of their people, the representatives of seven planets, the biggest among them the densly populated colony Horizon, finally brought the issue to the HSA parliament, setting off a heated discussion within human space. After several weeks of debating the request was called 'unconstitutional' in a statement of the government following a majority of the 'political heavy weight' core worlds voting against the proposal in favour of increasing military spending and increased anti-piracy operations in the region._

 _This denial led to a rise of the IFS' popularity across the seven planets that most vocally supported the new law. Feeling both estranged from the core worlds and betrayed by the HSA, the number of IFS supporters spiked as both disgruntled veterans and active servicemen native to the Fringe Worlds joined its ranks, causing the organisation to grow more militant, rapidly abandoning its more peaceful roots, and more populist than before. By 2375 AD, violent uprisings became a common occurrence in the region, the IFS only profiting from each crackdown as they began painting the HSA as a foreign government seeking to impose its will upon the Fringe Worlds and their resources without caring for the people 'fueling their senseless expansion'. By early 2376 AD the IFS had turned from a localized group into a mass movement sweeping over all worlds of the Fringe, turning new colonies and developed worlds such as Elysium alike against the distant core worlds._

 _In late 2376 AD militias trained and armed by the new IFS rose up on the seven planets that had originally supported the law at once, killing or capturing those members of the Colonial Watches that didn't join them beforehand before declaring the 'Separatist Seven' as independent from the HSA and setting off the 'Fringe Wars' ,(see Entry Series 'Fringe Wars'), the most destructive conflict in human history._

 _In 2381 AD, after five years of brutal warfare, the IFS leadership met to discuss the path of the war on the world Shanxi and after disagreeing on the degree of power each of them should hold, a coup attempt by one of it's leaders led to violent infighting and the death of all but one major IFS leader. When the public learned of this incident, both unrest and confusion broke out across the planets held by the IFS. The following lack of popular support and several strategic HSA victories on Mindoir, Amaterasu and most importantly Horizon effectively ended IFS resistance, allowing the HSA to reclaim its status as the singular human government body on 8.9.2381._

 _It is generally agreed that the HSA would still be fighting the Fringe Wars and more worlds would've joined the rebellion had the IFS not lost its popular support and leadership within such a short timeframe._

* * *

 **A/N: So we just cracked 60 followers. Niiiiice.**

 **I hope that last scene sounds as good to you folks as it did to me, I wanted to give a character of such importance for the franchise give a backstory that fits into this universe. I'll use the Codex more in the future. I love expanding the lore. I really don't have much to say, besides let me know what you think guys.**

 **See you around next time.**

 **Edit: As of 27.7.17 Chapter 3 has been remastered.**

 **For the record, I retconned some things I originally hinted at but never actually addressed for the sake of the story's flow.**


	4. Gunboat Diplomacy

**Chapter 4. Gunboat Diplomacy**

* * *

 **13\. December 2385 AD, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

"Ambassador Goyle," the salarian councilor, Vaelan, said from across the room. "We've been over this. The treaty is non-negotiable. Every race associated with the Council has to agree to it," he placed his palm on his head as probably he realized the blonde human would not back down this easily.

"Councilors, with all due respect. The associate races of this council rely on the turian navy to defend them and the turian patrol fleets are stretched thin as things are. This treaty would put an even bigger strain on them. The HSA is more than capable of defending its own territory, at least as long as our dreadnoughts are allowed to remain active," Anita Goyle, the human ambassador on the Citadel replied, remaining stubborn.

When humanity had started the process of becoming an associate member of the Citadel Council, establishing an embassy on the station in the process, they had been informed of a restriction called the 'Treaty of Farixen', a contract that limited the number of dreadnoughts, large warships armed spinal-mounted mass accelerators, a race could have. The number of vessels fitting this description each member could field was dictated by the status and power they held within the Citadel Council. For example, the Turian Hierarchy ,due to filling the role of the Council's peacekeepers, currently fielded thirty five vessels that met the definition of a dreadnought, only the nature of the treaty keeping them from constructing additional ships that would make their task easier. The Treaty of Farixen dictated that for every five turian dreadnoughts the other members of the Council were allowed to construct three, or more accurately, due to the nature of the treaty, for every three dreadnoughts either the asari and salarians maintained, the turians could put five into service. Due to these conditions the navy of the Asari Republics currently contained nineteen ships of the class with another, as far as rumors were concerned vastly superior vessel, under construction while the Salarian Union only maintained fifteen vessels that suited the definition. Associate members were allowed to field one dreadnought for every three dreadnoughts constructed by the 'weakest' member of the Council. And that was exactly the detail that had been causing a lot of trouble for the HSA. In a fit of expansionism, resource abundance and refined orbital construction methods the HSA had been building, modernizing and replacing their fleet of dreadnoughts ever since further expanding into the Fringe in the early 2300's, the number of vessels climbing to thirteen at the end of the Fringe Wars, a number the navy had planned on increasing.

"There is no need to divert turian attention into a region that the HSA is completely in control of," Goyle moved a strand of her blonde hair that had obstructed her view before further defending her cause. "By forcing the deactivation of eight of our dreadnoughts you'd remove that control and place an incredible strain on the Turian Hierarchy. You are well aware of the amount of territory claimed by my people, councilors. You are also well aware that we can defend it ourselves." she said as her blue eyes looked at the turian. She was playing the sympathy card and they both knew it. Ever since First Contact Ioventus and the Turian Hierarchy had been the most approachable of the three, for good reason.

She knew that Ioventus, and by extension the Primarchs that formed the highest tier of turian society, agreed with her on this matter. It was a sore topic for the Council but their clinging to the status quo and their reliance on the Hierarchy's fleets were starting to harm the avian race. While still capable of their role as peacekeepers, prominent groups within turian society had started to questioned whether or not the Turian Hierachy carried an unfair share of the work required to maintain the Citadel Council without reaping half the benefits the asari or salarians seemed to way they saw it, the Council was putting an intolerable strain on the Hierarchy and diverting turian attention away from turian space and towards council territory, enjoying free protection all the while throwing stones into the way of their protectors by having the audacity to limit the number of heavy warships the turian navy could maintain.

She could see their point.

"I believe that this unique situation may require another solution," the flanging voice of Ioventus declared as he looked at the human woman standing in front of them. "As you are aware fellow councilors, raids on turian worlds by groups originating from the Terminus Systems have increased in the last few months," he said as he looked at the asari. "While the Hierarchy is still very capable of its duty, I would like to interrupt the discussion on this matter in order to focus on the problem at hand. In the interest of the people on these worlds our fleets should extend their protection to those in need of it. The HSA is currently not one of them," his final sentence earned him the glare of the purple asari standing in the middle of the podium. "Why make them one?"

"Ambassador Goyle, I thank you for answering our summoning. If you'd please excuse us, there is something this Council needs to discuss in private. You are dismissed and this meeting is concluded," Tevos offered a smile before looking at the turian on her left, presumably flaying him plate by plate in her mind for so openly opposing the agenda she and Vaelan were trying to push.

Ambassador Goyle offered a smile towards the turian and turned to walk away, people on the levels above her doing much the same as the chambers were cleared for the following private discussion. She left the chamber and was greeted by her security detail, the man in charge of it wearing an HSAIS uniform, an organization that normally didn't indulge in guarding politicians.

"Well you sure as hell caused a lot of drama with that move. Wouldn't want to be Ioventus right about now,"he said as they walked side by side, the rest of her guards forming up around them, weapons at the ready. "You kind of threw that one under the bus back there if you ask me," he turned his head back and Goyle once more noted the red dagger on the shoulder of his black uniform, remaining silent at his accusation. The bad side of being assigned a spy for protection was that he was probably one of the few people that managed to see through her negotiation tactics. He knew that every word she had just said had been aimed at further delaying the discussion about the Treaty of Farixen until the HSA could find a way to keep their ships. Both the parliament and the chancellor had made it quite clear that they would not agree to the deconstruction of eight dreadnoughts. Especially during times like these.

"I really like that birdy thing," her chief of security said absent-minded while scanning the environment, his eyes darting through the crowd around them as they made their way to the fortified complex housing the HSA's embassy on the Citadel. "Next time sacrifice the lizardy one to the mono-gendered freak. Screw those guys for not building enough dreadnoughts," he finished, either unaware or simply unconcerned by how offending his at times surprisingly accurate descriptions could be.

"For the sake of saving all of us from cultural sensitivity training, I feel the need to tell you that they are called 'turians', 'salarian' and 'asari', but part of me thinks you know that and just don't care," she said as she looked at the man who met her gaze as he registered the movement of her head in the corner of his eyes. Dark hair cut according to military regulations, not an uncommon trait these days. Grey eyes, a bit more unusual. In fact incredibly rare and somewhat alluring as he looked back at her. A faint scar coming from his torso somewhat visible at the edge of his collar and another more recent one above his left eyebrow. By all means he could certainly be considered attractive if one didn't mind his choice of career or the implications it made about his character. People like him had a reputation for going from stoic or cheerful to state sanctioned serial killer in less than a second if the situation called for it.

"You good?" he asked as they entered the embassy area. Multiple races had build their relationship with the Council from right here but none of them had acted like the HSA. In the few months they had been here, her people had already made headlines by challenging the Citadel Council in regards to the Treaty of Farixen.

"I am fine, Specialist," Goyle said as she forced the yawn back down her throat. "I just didn't expect to get summoned this early."

"Hey what can I say, I got up even earlier," he shrugged as he held open the door of the embassy building. Being of human design it was one of the few buildings on the Citadel that could still be entered through a door one could actually hold open, others opening by themselves and rendering this simple act of chivalry non existent. "Don't see me being grumpy."

"I do see you being unprofessional though," she replied with a snarky tone once their guards vanished into the direction of their barracks. "I'm needed in the conference room," she claimed innocently as the next intersection within the building came up. "Enjoy your day."

"I've always been unorthodox. It's why I got this job in the first place," he somewhat shouted as they parted ways before deciding to add something "You too though!"

"Unorthodox is one way to put it," her voice echoed through the hallway as she disappeared around the corner.

"Damn that woman. Always having the last word," he remarked as he opened the door to the armory. Contrary to what he had just said, he actually liked Goyle. She was different from most politicians in the HSA as she stood up for the things she believed in, not the things she thought people wanted to hear. While that made her an unusual choice for a diplomat, who usually were supposed to say what their counterparts wanted to here, the last few meetings with the Council had shown him just why the chancellor had sent her.

After exchanging a swift greeting, he walked over to the sergeant behind the armory's counter and turned in his pistol. The gun based on the Standard Issue Sidearm 8, 'SIS-8' or 'Sissy' as far as grunts were concerned, had been altered for the use by people of his profession, several modifications setting it apart from the normal pistol handed to every servicemen in the HSA's armed forces. As the silenced pistol vanished in the one locker designed for him he threw one final glance towards the black piece of technology, already missing the familiar weight of it. He just wasn't cut out for this kind of work, even if there were worse people to protect than 'humanity's link towards a galactic society'. He contemplated on what this assignment would contribute to his life as he chose to get rid of his 'kinetic barrier generator' next. The concept reminded him of the shields employed by Paladins, vehicles and space vessels, only without the danger of exploding when being scaled down removed and its energy demand problem solved. Unlike the human technology, these were actually feasible for an infantryman. The Turian Hierarchy had offered a ship load of the devices shorty after formal relations had been established with the government as what they had called 'a token of our appreciation'. As far as he had picked up, the act had caused some tension between them and a few of the all-female ruling class of the salarians, the dalatrasses. But since he had been more concerned with other matters at the time, he hadn't thought much about it until now.

He tossed the small box between his hands before looking at its grey form. It was generally thought that human shields, while less resistant than state-of-the-art turian barriers, were superior to all kinetic barrier projectors in one aspect, the things of which they shielded one from. Unlike the mass effect fields, the human technology also triggered upon contact with things like guardian lasers, a huge advantage in space combat. Furthermore they protected from extreme temperature and provided radiation shielding, both of which simply passed through kinetc barriers. In fact there were talks about creating a joint turian-human research team which would aim to fabricate a hybrid shield capable of combining the advantages of both technologies while removing their disadvantages at the same time. A breakthrough like that would have more than just scientific consequences.

He handed the small box to the sergeant and walked out of the local weapon stash, turning left to move to his room. He greeted a few workers as they passed by him and came to a halt in front of the door, swiping a card previously dangling around his neck through the device next to its handle before being able to step inside. The room was really a testament of his line of work, there were no personal affects, can't have people snooping around in his private life and use it against him after all, and no decorations or commendations. While he possessed the later, six regulations prevented him from actually wearing them due to the conditions under which they had been bestowed to him being strictly classified, can't have people asking questions either. There was just a bed, a desk, a computer terminal and a locker with his clothes and some books. He didn't need more.

He closed the door behind him and threw the top piece of his dress uniform on the spartan bed before opening the computer terminal sitting at his desk. This computer, being property of the HSAIS, was one of the few aboard the Citadel he knew wasn't monitorable for anyone but the HSAIS itself . Apparently human encoding was considered top-notch even by salarian standards and as such breaking into the small computer would require not only direct access, which they'd never get, but also a lot of time. The fact that no one knew that the communication network it used existed at all helped as well. The HSAIS was rather good at covering its tracks. He went to open the newest message he had received when another one, flagged high priority, appeared on his screen.

"Now what does she want?" he mumbled as he opened the message, reading its content before rising from the chair once more. "So much for 'enjoy your day'," he sighed before grabbing the jacket off his bed, once more heading out.

He had to plan a trip.

* * *

 **Three Minutes Earlier, Citadel, HSA Embassy, Conference Room**

"So the Council really isn't backing down on this one?" Noé, who had recently been reelected to serve another term in office, muttered. The man was currently sitting in his office on Arcturus but thanks to the comm buoy network of the Council instantaneous communication with him was still possible, in spite of the vast distance between them.

"I think the turians are on our side here," Goyle replied while looking at the blue projection of the chancellor in front of her. "They are having issues with pirate raids at the moment and really like our approach of 'not stretching out the turian patrol fleet' as far as I can tell. Every ship they can keep for themselves is a win for them and right now we're saving them a lot of work by not backing down. Besides, they've never been big supporters of the Treaty of Farixen in the past, now they actually have someone that shares their stance on the matter that isn't a batarian."

Both of them knew that playing nice with the turians was their best bet at the moment. It was no secret to the HSA that they had made a positive first impression by saving parts of the crew of the CSS N'vas Thelo and it was certainly no secret the turians would be grateful for every system they didn't have to patrol. The number of ships they dedicated to defending their own territory was already far below the threshold they had set themselves during the Krogan Rebellions, having to patrol human space as well would decrease that number even further.

Keeping that from happening would get them a lot of good will.

"Ambassador Goyle, I want you to return to Arcturus as soon as possible. There is something we have to discuss under four eyes," he was probably referring to the fact that the HSA was almost certain that their embassy was being monitored by the 'Spectres', a group of agents that only answered to the three councilors and did their bidding for them, ensuring peace and upholding order within Council territory, through both direct but also more subtle means. They were not unlike a certain human organization her chief of security belonged to. Walking on the thin line between hero and villain to ensure the continued existence of their government while conduction highly classified and sometimes beyond questionable operations. The HSA understood the idea behind the group but that didn't mean that they trusted them not to eavesdrop.

"I'll reroute a ship to pick you up, prepare to leave by tomorrow," the chancellor said as he lit one of his cigarettes, a habit he was rumored to have developed during the Fringe Wars. "See you on Arcturus, Goyle."

The transmission cut off as the bluish depiction of the ma sitting in his chair disassembled in front of her, leaving her alone in the now noticeably darker room, its lights turning on only when they registered that the projector was no longer active. She brought up her omni-tool, feeling only somewhat sorry for interrupting whatever it was that her chief of security was doing, and sent the message.

They had to plan a trip.

* * *

 **14\. December 2385 AD, Citadel, Docking Area Bay D-24**

He was starting to get impatient as the elevator was taking its time towards the deck at which the HSASV London, a cruiser of the Geneva-Class, had docked. Being the man in charge of the ambassador's protection, he too had to make the trip all the way to Arcturus. After all, he'd be a lousy chief of security if he ditched her at the first possible chance. The elevator, after what had felt like an hour, finally came to a stop at bay D-24. The doors hissed open and the green hull of their ride to mankind's political and military nerve center became visible behind a large glass panel, several smaller vessels behind it acting as its wolfpack escort. The vessel was by far not the biggest one currently docked to the Citadel and paled in size and armament when compared to the dreadnoughts of the Citadel Defense Fleet, one of which was currently doing an almost certainly planned fly by off the wolfpack, but it was still an impressive sight non the less. His eyes spotted the welcoming committee of the London due to their telltale naval blue uniforms but they were not alone. Instead of a squad of a marines, a squad of the Citadel's police force, 'C-Sec', flanked them. The blue-clad figures were the technically the only ones allowed to bear arms on the station, only diplomatic guards such as he himself or the Spectres being excluded from the rule. Knowing that, he started to count the amount of weapons they were carrying and thought of a way to take them down as quickly as possible on pure instinct really. It was simply something his mind had been trained to do.

"Ambassador Goyle," the asian man at the center of the formation said as the C-SEC officers took a respectful step away from them, scanning the surrounding area instead. "I am Captain Lin," he offered his hand and the blonde woman took it as he double-checked C-SEC's work. "We're ready to leave at once, just give the word."

"We won't be long," she answered before turning her eyes to the specialist in an attempt to introduce him. "This is my security advisor, he'll will join us for the time being," she said as the captain looked at him, his expression visibly shifting upon spotting the red dagger on his shoulder. It was a rather common reaction.

"I have been informed of that," he said in a respectful but slightly noticeably less excited tone before briefly shaking his hand. "Now if you'd please follow us, we've already been asked to make room for another vessel intending to dock here," he said as the group started to move towards the airlock. He didn't know why they'd assign a bay to a ship waiting for someone only to ask it to leave not an hour later. If this was another form of powerplay, it was simply annoying. The decontamination process ended as quickly as it begun and the captain soon parted ways with them as he lead Goyle through the cruiser and towards her room, coming to a halt in front of the elevator.

"So what will you be doing on Arcturus while I meet the chancellor?" the blonde woman asked as she broke the silence while they waited for the elevator.

"Can't say I planned anything, really," he replied before deciding to joke, faking a sad voice. "Wait for you to come back, I guess."

"That's kind of sad actually," the woman chuckled. "Now you made me feel bad for dragging you out here."

"It's not like I had anything better to do," he shrugged as the doors opened and they stepped inside the cabin. "I'll think of something."

Luckily the elevators within the vessel were much faster than those on the Citadel. After dropping of the ambassador at her room, he started to walk towards his assigned quarter after once more being forced to turn in his SIS-8 at the ship's armory, already missing it but refraining from complaining about it, even if it seemed unnecessary to confiscate the gun for the short journey. The insides of the ship were something he was very familiar with, having been posted on the Geneva, the first vessel and namesake of the class, for some time during the Fringe Wars. He knew every corner of the crew deck and could navigate through them in complete darkness, the nature of his profession requiring him to do so and the perks of his training allowing it in the first place. He could recall every bump in the floor, every door in the walls and every weapons rack meant to be used against boarders. So it was quite the surprise when he turned the corner and crashed into something that caused him to hit the floor. As he regained his senses, the first thing he registered was red hair and an equally surprised junior officer on the floor next to him.

"Floored by the navy. I hope no one saw that one," he mumbled as he sat up. It was only partially a joke, he knew a certain someone who'd never let him live that one down.

"I am so sorry. Are you alright?" the red haired woman began. "I was in a hurry and didn't look where I was going an-" she sounded nervous as if she had bumped into the most important person on the ship. Hell, she was a commissioned officer, if not for his very unique position, she'd be far above his pay grade.

"It's fine, nothing's broken. I'm not made of sugar after all," he interrupted her and rose to his feet while she was just sitting up. It wasn't as much as her being slow to get up, he had just been thrown around a lot harder than that before. "Although I've been told I'm rather sweet," he lifted the woman to her feet and handed her the tablet that had fallen next to him. "Guess that goes for both of us."

"As I was saying, I'm so sorry." their hands lingered for a moment before he let go of her.

"Hey, I've bumped into worse things," he chuckled before deciding to test his luck. "But if you're still feeling apologetic we could grab a drink on Arcturus," he offered a smile which was returned. It was mostly meant as a joke to ease her up. He didn't actually expect it to work. Apparently keeping his schedule free had been the right decision.

"I think I'd like that," she said as her bright, green eyes met his. "I'm Lieutenant O'Brien. Hannah O'Brien, he shook her hand upon their formal introduction and she returned his smile, freckles only ever so slightly becoming visible as he focused on her face.

"Pleasure to meet you Hannah, Alec Shepard," this was going to be interesting.

Later on Arcturus 'one drink' turned into three and three drinks turned into a second date two weeks later during shore leave on the Citadel.

The future would reveal this to be the most important 'bumping into' in galactic history.

* * *

 **16\. December 2385 AD, Arcturus Station, Ministry for Alien Relations**

Ambassador Goyle had rushed to the building within humanity's biggest space station the moment she left the ship, only somewhat formally dismissing Specialist Shepard as he seemed to be in a hurry. The man had been even more cheerful this morning, as if that was even possible, and she was slightly worried as to what could've caused it. Maybe he'd been promised a new gun to play around with.

As she now had spent two hours waiting in the ministry, her rush turned out to be unnecessary. Drumming her fingers on the armrest of the metal chair, she got up and looked out of the large glass wall separating her from the rest of the ministry. Currently standing in an office on the second level of the building, which was in fact build within the space station and not a part of it, she saw dozens of people walking either to their workplace or away from it. When she had first come here seven years ago, Anita Goyle never would've expected to see this many people in the ministry. Times had changed. Bringing up her omni-tool, an invention that was finding its way into human space far slower than expected, she checked the time. He was almost an hour late. She was about to get up and ask if the meeting had been rescheduled when Noé entered the room.

"I apologize for the delay, I was caught up talking to our mutual friend," he said. She knew exactly who said friend was and she only somewhat agreed with what he was doing.

"I don't exactly consider Harper a friend but I understand, Chancellor," she nodded as the man sat down opposite to her. "What is it that you wished to discuss in private?"

"First off, I'd like to congratulate you on once more avoiding the subject of our dreadnought issue," he began. "You are doing an excelent job as our ambassador," he took one of his cigarettes out of its case, knowing better than to offer her one, and lit it on fire. He was one of the few people who really couldn't care less about the risk of cancer this habit developed, his past life as a fighter pilot and the job-related Eezo contact being far more likely to eventually cause the disease in him.

"I'm sure you didn't order a cruiser to pick me up from the Citadel just to congratulate me on my work," she argued as she leaned forward in the chair, folding her hands.

"I did not. You see, this is why I picked you Goyle. I really like that you just want to get to the point of things," he chuckled as he exhaled a small cloud of smoke. "I've been approached by the Hierarchy. A Primarch to be precise," the orange tip of the cigarette glowed a bit brighter as he inhaled, Arcturus' artificial sunlight shining through the window and making the glow hard to notice. "You are aware that a councilor can call a veto on a decision and place its final ruling on hold for up to five years if he wishes to do so, correct?" he asked as he started the projector within the room, green blinds rolling down from the ceiling to shut out the liht of the outside.

"Yes but the Council usually decided uniformly on a matter. There hasn't been a veto for over a century. Political pressure works miracles to create an unanimous decision," Goyle recalled. She had caught up on Citadel Council history in her free time, it only made sense to know the stories of the people you were working with. "The last time a councilor vetoed something was when the Salarian Union decided against a turian military intervention into the Terminus Systems."

"Exactly. Turns out the Hierarchy really wanted to bring order into one of the border regions but the salarians shot them down due to the threat it would place on Ernile," the chancellor began." I mean I get their worry, the colony is one of their bigger sources of fuel and minerals, a lot of their platinum comes from that rock. Adding to that, its the biggest salarian star port in the region and creates a lot of revenue for the Salarian Union. Basically it's one of the few safe haven in the region and they wanted it to stay that way," the projector assembled an image of the planet. She had heard of it, it was a garden world in the last stage of its life and the Union was currently trying to reverse the process and reanimate its biosphere. It wasn't their only terraforming project but definitely their most ambitious one.

"And I'm guessing that this has something to do with the Primarch?" Goyle asked as she looked at the planet, its appearance not unlike that of Sur'Kesh. She could see why the salarians were trying to keep it that way.

"Correct. The Primarchs, and as it turns out Ioventus, aren't exactly happy that turian colonies in Outer Council Space are being raided by groups based in the Terminus Systems while their ships have to guard asari shipping lines. Thousands of turians have died in the last few years because of this particular group. They argue that if they'd been allowed to crack down on the problem when it first appeared none of this would've happened," an image of 'Invictus' with the date 1939 CE appeared.

"Invictus used to be a colony of the Hierarchy but nowadays it's an independent world that harbours hundreds of thousands of pirates, slavers and general scum bags," the next image displayed a fleet with vessels of multiple designs, especially the several clearly turian ones standing out to her.

"As it turns out the groups doing the raiding use this world as their base of operations as well. Bottom line is, the Hierarchy knows that they can't just swoop in and pacify the place and they know that they'd get shot down if they tried to vote on another formal intervention as well. Asari and salarian colonies in the region are threatened by Terminus warlords as it is, if the Council would actually kick that hornet nest, officially or inofficialy, those worlds would be in trouble, a lot of trouble. Sure, they'd win the war but besides the turians no one thinks its worth it."

"I take it the Primarch wants us to do something about this and Ioventus would then veto the Treaty of Farixen issue?"

"Precisely. The Primarchs offer the veto if we take care of the issue for them. Blow up some ships, keep our own for the time being," the chancellor chuckled,"of course we'd need full deniability on the whole thing. Otherwise the Council would be pretty pissed at us. That's where our friend comes in actually," the image of Cerberus's sigil appeared in the room. Why the secret division decided that yellow and white were the most inconspicuous colours available to them was not a question she'd answer anytime soon.

"Four unidentified cruisers are going to trash the raider ships after dropping into the system. They'll broadcast no IFF signal, they'll just appear, fire at the vessels while they are in port and use their FTL drives to return to the Fortis system where they'll use the relay to escape."

"So we are going to break Citadel Law by flying a false flag operation in order to ignore the Citadel Law dictating us to reduce the number of our dreadnoughts?" Goyle questioned. By all means this was illegal and could blow up into their face.

"We? No. There will be nothing that is even remotely going to point at us. Cerberus has been busy. They won't leave a trace," Noé threw his cigarette into the ash tray, a few orange spots still burning on its remains.

"This seems very disproportionate. I mean causing such a political division over an issue like this?" Goyle asked. "In fact it's not very turian at all to even go behind the backs of the Council like this."

"That's what I thought as well but there's a reason the Primarchs are willing to make this compromise," Noé said. "They believe that by not acting, they are alienating their outer colonies."

"They are afraid of another Unification War?" Goyle asked. The inter-turian conflict was a part of history that she had looked into as well, parts of it were far too familiar.

"They are afraid of generating the mind set that led to the Unification War," Noé corrected. "They think that five years, really not that much if your civilization is thirteen thousand years old, is a reasonable amount of time to avoid having to crack down on recently established colonies and create division in an otherwise united race. They are already dealing with nationalistic groups calling for a separation from the Council as it is, they don't need more people joining them. Turns out that the turians feel like the asari and salarians are ditching parts of their responsibility." Noé explained. "These groups, especially Palavani Prima, are gathering even more support now that the Council is trying to give the turians even more work by making them patrol a region that wouldn't need patrolling if not for a treaty they themselves dislike."

"What does the parliament say about the offer?" she asked.

"They don't say anything since they aren't entitled to know. In fact since Cerberus is part of the HSAIS, their actions are classified to the parliament. I'm just telling you this, because you'll have to deal with the consequences of letting Harper loose."

"So when are you going to decide on the matter?" Goyle finally questioned as she took in the suggestion and its potential results. It was a calculated gamble that may just work.

"I already did. This was a courtesy call," Noé admitted as her eyes narrowed. "The ministers and I already decided on the matter before you even arrived, guess why Ioventus took the heat by drawing the Council's attention away from you yesterday?"

"That's why you were late," she connected the dots. "You were ordering Harper to set out to Invictus."

"This is why I gave you the job, mon chéri. Always so perceptive," Noé got up and walked to the door. "I didn't mean to ignore your input on this," he started his justification, suspecting that she was far from happy with people not telling her things. "It required an immediate response, there's no telling when the raiders will leave or when the Council is going to force a decision regarding the treaty on us."

"But what do we do in five years?" Goyle sighed. This wasn't a solution, it was a break.

"We find another excuse to keep our ships until we get ourselves a seat on that Council."

"The Council already thinks were rushing this as things are and you want to push for a seat? The volus have tried that for over a thousand years and got nowhere."

"The volus weren't human," Noé said as his hand reached for the handle of the doro. "The volus also didn't hold sizeable claims in the Attican Traverse or the Skyllian Verge and the volus sure as hell didn't have enough dreadnoughts to make the salarians nervous. Our claim is very valid. Especially if get the Hierarchy's backing. Backing that you are going to get us."

He left the conference room and Goyle, for the first time since the start of her career, had not seen the entire picture.

* * *

 **Tweny Hours after the meeting, 17. December** **2385 AD, Fortis System, HSASV Budapest**

The Budapest was one of the vessels Chancellor Noé had given Harper after putting him in charge of the Cerberus Initiative, which most people that knew about it called 'Cerberus' by now. Alongside the Warsaw, Seoul and Manila, the vessel had enjoyed severe modification throughout the last two years that set it apart from other HSA cruisers. While the retrofit had been in progress, Cerberus had gathered the approved personal, consisting of both retired and active servicemen considered discreet and talented enough for this kind of work. The original crews of the ships had finished the final stages of the modification ten months ago before being redeployed and ever since then the small Cerberus fleet had been practicing for its first combat deployment. Now being armed with long range torpedo launchers, their torpedoes capable of remaining undetected to most sensors currently used, the vessels would drop into the system, conduct a precision FTL jump and unleash their deadly cargo before the crews of the raider vessels or any other ships around Invictus could react. The operation was planned out to the last minute, while no expert in naval warfare Harper was superb at surprise attacks. The attack would commence during the time at which most of the inhabitants of the worlds were either too drunk or too hooked on some form of drug to retaliate effectively and since Invictus lacked a formal colonial administration or a central command, the few who weren't wouldn't be able to mount a counterattack against the Cerberus flotilla.

"We'll drop out of FTL in ten minutes, Sir" his naval commander informed him. "Our core won't need discharging until after we hit the relay in Fortis again," he added.

"Thank you, Captain. I am formally handing command to you until we are back at Arcturus," the man currently standing on the bridge said. "From here on out, I'm just an observer, this is your expertise. Give them hell."

"Will do, Sir," the captain walked towards his command chairs. "Alright people, you heard it. Timeto give these amateurs a wake up call."

As the crew got into position a red counter appeared on the screen at the front of the bridge and soon enough it began to rapidly count down.

"Attention all decks, this is not a drill, general quarter.." the captain declared. "All hands man your battle stations."

With breakneck speed the new crew of the ship did as as they ordered, rushing to their assigned positions and just as the final preparations aboard the cruiser were finished the Seoul, Warsaw and Manila reported their own combat readiness to the captain of the Budapest. Whoever had picked the crews had done a fantastic job. They had known each other for barely a year and already worked like a well-oiled machine.

"Dropping out of FTL," the navigator began as the ships entered the Caestus system, "now."

"Calculate the precision FTL jump towards Invictus. How many enemy vessels in orbit?"

"Fifty on the far side of the planet, fifteen of which are our targets," a combat officer said seemingly unimpressed by the numbers. "None of them above frigate tonnage. Torpedoes armed and ready."

"Status of the formation?" the captain asked.

"Manila, Seoul and Warsaw are ready to jump," the communications officer said.

"All ships, synchronize VIs and execute the jump. Upon arrival we fire our torpedos and jump back to Fortis."

There was a moment of silence before the ships launched forward and appeared within weapons range as blue flashes. The four cruisers unloaded their torpedo salvo on the fifteen acquired targets not a moment later and the disruptor torpedoes surged across the void. With mass effect fields making them too heavy for the barriers of the ships to deflect, they impacted with extreme prejudice and upon contact the weapons ripped apart the hulls of the unprepared raider ships. Soon after the vessels started to lose orbit, pummeling towards Invictus as flaming wreckages, never to raid again.

"That got their attention. Multiple vessels from the orbit of the second planet are closing in on us," a combat officer informed the captain. "Reading at least thirty new contacts. All of them frigate-analogues."

"Launch countermeasures, prepare to jump," the captain ordered as the human vessels fired of a series of guided missiles that would force the frigates to either break formation or face the consequences. The missiles called 'Swarmers' due to the fact that each of them carried a series of smaller explosives that would be launched from them shortly before hitting their target, would overload enemy point defense and cause damage to multiple sections of the hull, making it harder to just seal of the damaged regions. At least if one got hit by them. As the rockets raced towards the older vessels, their formation breaking apart, the four Cerberus ships were engulfed in blue once more as they made their escape back to Fortis.

"Attention all personal, good work. Prepare for relay transit," the captain stated over the intercom not a minute after he had called them to their battlestations. "You can always count on pirates not to be prepared for a surprise attack," he explained as Harper recalled that the Budapest' captain had been part of the anti-piracy operations predating the Fringe Wars. "It's a trend that translates across all species. If you lack discipline and cohesion you are going to be annihilated."

He was more than glad to see that Noé had given him someone that understood his craft to such a degree. If this operation was any indication, Cerberus would do exactly what it was created to do.

* * *

 **Four Weeks Later,** **2127 CE, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

"On behalf of the Turian Hiearchy and the turian people, I chose to exercise my power to veto this decision," Ioventus spoke the words that had last been used by a salarian councilor upon learning of the possibility of a turian military intervention into the Terminus Systems. While he had shot down multiple proposals of Tevos, the turian with red facial marks had never defied both the Union and the Republics at this level. This was simply outrageous. While Tevos was the calmer of the two remaining councilors, having already been in office during the time of the salarian veto, Vaelan was visibly more affected by this decision.

"Are you absolutely certain of this?" the salarian quickly began. "The Citadel Council should not be this divided," he tried to reason, invain. She knew that the stubborn turian had made up his mind.

"The Primarchs do not wish to deploy our naval forces in a region which would only need them after we turned it defenseless. Fleets that have to patrol human territory because you disarmed their navy will be missed in Council space, we can't approve of this in good conscious. The decision of the Primarchs is final, the Hierarchy wishes to delay this ruling for five years," Ioventus argued. "Now do you respect this formal veto or does the Union not recall how it used this right in the past?"

"Councilor Ioventus. On behalf of the Asari Republics, are you absolutely certain of this?" Tevos tried to fit her mediator role. She wouldn't allow this council to tear itself apart over some upstarts with too many dreadnoughts. "Surely we can come to a conclusion that does not force us to this extreme."

"As I said, the decision of the Primarchs is final. My veto stands," Ioventus refused.

"So be it then. The Council recognizes the turian veto on the matter at hand. As requested by Councilor Ioventus, the ruling on this matter will be put on hold for five years," she sighed while typing on her omni-tool. "I shall inform the human embassy to immediately summon their ambassador and inform them of this change. She turned to look at the salarian councilor and spoke. "This meeting is adjourned. Vaelan, a word in private please."

"Of course, Councilor Tevos," the salarian nodded, the shock still visible on his face.

Ioventus threw exactly one glance at them before withdrawing to his office. She knew that the turian had a problem with her, she never thought it would lead to something like this.

They had to do something about these humans before they caused even more damage.

* * *

 **21\. January 2386 AD, Arcturus Station, Ministry for Alien Relations**

"I have already scheduled a meeting with the turian councilor on this matter," Goyle said as she addressed the assembled ministers and the chancellor. "We will work on furthering cooperation as soon as possible and I'd like to mention the possibility of holding something akin to ajoint fleet exercise."

"That's a good idea. The turians like us for actually using our navy," Chancellor Noé said from the head of the table, his eyes darting between the ambassador herself and the members of his government. "Anything else to report from the 'Council Front'?."

"As a matter of fact, yes. As far as rumors are concerned the elcor actually stand with the turians on this one. They are afraid that they'll lose part of the defense fleet assigned to them should the Hierarchy be forced to patrol our territory as well," Anita Goyle explained, before sounding more worried, "but I've heard rumors that salarian and asari diplomatic traffic has increased ever since the veto."

"I'm kind of surprised the turians actually pulled through on that one," Noé admitted. "After all, we're the new kid and they just pissed of their two biggest allies to do us a favour."

"If I may," the Minister of Alien Relations, who by now was one of the most important members of the government, said. "I can explain this course of action," Victor Kadlec gestured towards the projector. "Ever since our operation on Invictus, approval rates on the outer turian colonies are off the charts. The Primarchs are more popular than ever for not backing down to the Council."

An image displayed a map of turian territory and charts showing recent polls the man had just mentioned

"We also have to consider that the Turian Hierarchy has never been as close to the Asari Republics or the Salarian Union as the two have been to each other. Centuries of being the third wheel may have something to do with their decision as well."

"Minister Kadlec is right," the Minister of Defense stated. "The Turian Hierarchy has no ally that could help them rival the strength the Asari Republics and Salarian Union have in each other. While they enjoy good relations with the Vol Protectorate, the volus as a military factor are close to irrelevant. They rely on the Hiearchy for a reason," he went on as the projection switched through the sigils of the governments. "Same goes for elcor, hanar, or the drell." A diagram representing fleet numbers appeared in the middle of the room, five distinctively coloured bars standing next to several smaller, grey ones. The biggest of them, a blue pillar, obviously stood for the Turian Hierarchy itself with the smaller purple and orange ones next to it representing the two other council members. Noé realised that the green-red stripped one, which represented the HSA, was just slightly smaller than the orange to its left and suspected the brown one to its right to be the one of the Batarian Hegemony, the difference between them luckily being noticeable.

"Turian relationships with the batarians have been ice cold for centuries. They almost went to war twice in the last fifty years. That takes them out of the equation as well," he concluded as a press of a button caused the brown bar and the grey ones next to it to vanish, leaving behind only the four bigger bars "As you're all aware in terms of dreadnoughts we almost match the numbers of the Salarian Union and this doesn't factor in our carriers, assault carries or the" he said as the bars of the HSA and the Turian Hierachy united before the purple and orange ones stacked on top of each other next to it."By looking at our military might and adding the numbers of the turians into the mix, we'd make a reasonable alternative for them," he explained as Noé noticed that 'their' bar was actually slightly bigger. "While they certainly aren't planning on cutting ties with the Council, the Hierarchy views us as a potential ally," Minister Kadlec, head of the Ministry for Alien Relations, explained. "An ally that could give them what the Asari Republics and Salarian Union have had in each other for two thousand years but never gave to the Turian Hierachy, someone to lean on."

"So we're basically a crutch for them?" Chancellor Noé questioned. "That doesn't sound all that good when you say it out loud."

"Not a crutch Sir, think of us as an something they've been looking for for a long time. A race that doesn't rely on them but isn't a direct threat to them either. An ally able to be helpful and willing to be cooperative. First Parnack, then Invictus. The turians probably see us as a nice change compared to a galaxy that's only ever demanded of them, never giving back anything in return. You have to recall that the turians made their entrance into this Council by fighting a several decade long war with the krogan that caused countless of turian deaths. There has always been a sense in their society that the turians did more for the Council than the other way around."

"Alright so not a crutch but a welcome change," he contemplated. "That sounds better. Next time say it like that," he ordered with a laugh. "I'm kidding, sorry Minister Kadlec, go on, please."

"I join the recommendation of Ambassador Goyle. Considering the turian culture, joint military exercises in space would further reinforce the bond we are trying to create," he stated.

"Furthermore we can probably learn a thing or two about space warfare from them," the Minister of Defense, Suhail Nadim, added. "The turian navy has clashed with organized alien navies in the past. We only ever fought humans. There's bound to be a few tricks they could teach us, give us a look at how others do things around here."

"Any objections?" the chancellor looked around the room. "Good. Let's grab some lunch people, I'm starving."

* * *

 **2128 CE, Palaven**

"Ready for this?" he asked his youngest brother as their vehicle came to a halt in front the base's main gate, the familiar sound of other soldiers marching already audible in the distance. He had taken several days of leave just for this occasion. After all, a turian only got sent to boot camp once in his life and since their father couldn't, or rather didn't want to, make it, he chose to be there for him. He figured the eldest son was the next best replacement for a father figure that had been far to absent in his brother's life.

"Of course I am. You know I've been looking forward to this ever since I could walk," the smaller turian replied in an equally flanging voice as he opened the doors of the skycar, walking towards the trunk of the vehicle before opening it. He grabbed the grey case and in spite of its surprising weight pulled it out of the storage compartment with little effort.

"I know I was just kidding," he chuckled as he handed his brother the footlocker with his personal effects, seeing him struggle a little more to carry its weight but deciding against helping him. It would either make him stronger or teach him to pack lighter, both lessons had their perks. "Remember what I told you, trust your comrades, trust your superiors and do exactly as you're told. No matter how much this is going to suck, and trust me it will suck, I've done it, just pull through," he considered saying the next thing for a few moments, no matter how little he wanted to hear it, he needed to. "If anyone calls you 'bare face' , just ignore it. Proof to them that you are reliable," he began the responsible speech he had practiced succeeding for exactly two sentences until choosing to improvise,"and beat the shit out of them during close quarter drills. Just don't start a fight outside of the ring otherwise the sergeants are going to make you wish you would've died in it," he finished.

He had learned that one the hard way.

"I'll do our family proud," the white plated turian promised as he strapped the footlocker on his back. "Trust me Desolas. They'll remember the name Arterius!" he shouted as he started to walk away from the skycar and towards the rally point, picking up his pace in spite of the weight on his.

"I know you will," he said idly to himself as he opened the door of his vehicle. "Just take care of yourself, Saren."

* * *

 _Codex: Human Systems Alliance Intelligence Service_

 _Originally established as a subdivison of the HSAMC, the HSAIS already became its own organization after three years of existence, retaining only the black uniforms as a reminder of their origins. Tasked with upholding the power of the HSA by conducting espionage and surveillance the HSAIS also established a subdivision that gave them access to highly specialized field teams. 'Section 13' of the HSAIS Bureau for Field Work is the highly classified home of the enigmatic 'specialists'. Being selected under unknown circumstances, Section 13 agents are known to be the brightest, deadliest and most mentaly resilient agents the HSAIS has to offer, their training and missions remaining among the most closely guarded secrets of the HSA._

 _Rumors put Section 13 numbers at no more than two hundred agents and multiple sources of varying credibility suggest that sometimes years go by without new agents joining its ranks. Up to date only one assignment of the Section has been revealed to the general public but fringe elements, especially on the outmost human colonies, believe the group to be responsible for multiple important historic events since the founding of the HSA, some even claiming that the bureau itself is merely the newest incarnation of a similar group predating the HSA itself. The theories surrounding the group range from reasonable to outlandish, some people even claiming that the engine malfunction which caused the Sun Tzu to arrive at Parnack just in time to intervene on the surface and in turn encounter the Citadel Council was caused by an undercover agent of Section 13._

 _Generally considered to be the shadiest organizations within the HSA, the HSAIS also completes such mundane assignments like helping colonial police forces by maintaining a central data base containing information on known criminals or assisting in interplanetary crime by acting as a mediator between several police departments. Furthermore the HSAIS also assists selected research programs throughout human space, lending its expertise and resources to several dozen renowned institutes in the hopes of recruiting promising young minds into their organisation._

* * *

 **A/N: So I hope the meeting that will decide the fate of the galaxy wasn't too... cheesy. I just wanted something more light-hearted considering how last chapter ended. Not everything here is going to be grim-dark. I don't want that. Grim-dark has been done before. I also hope that I didn't totally fuck up the believability of the political situation but this is how I've always seen the Council and I feel like Mass Effect 3 confirms this. The turians do way too much and the asari and salarians kind of hang around each other. Makes sense if you think about it.**

 **Let me know what you think with a REVIEW, I like those reviewy things, and well, this story is going quite well.**

 **See you around next time.**

 **Edit: As of 28.7.17 Chapter 4 has been remastered.  
I altered the Codex to make more sense and fixed some contradicting statements within the chapter.**


	5. Born Ready

**Chapter 5. Born Ready**

* * *

 **13\. August 2387 AD, Utopia System, Eden Prime, HSASV Hawking**

Eden Prime, the first world settled by the HSA after its founding in 2151, was chosen to be the rally point of the first human-turian joint exercise. Following the veto by Councilor Ioventus, the Hierarchy had been approached by the Human Systems Alliance to conduct several ground and space exercises. Here a turian fleet would meet up with Carrier Battle Group Hawking and the two formations would embark on a journey throughout human and turian space, conducting specific exercises on several planets within their territory. The official aim of this event was to learn from each other. However it also sent a clear message to both the Salarian Union and the Asari Republics, who had recently shot down the earlier possibility of a four way exercise between all council members and the HSA. These exercises were not only supposed to strengthen diplomatic ties between the HSA and the turians, they wee also supposed to show that the Hierarchy would not join its fellow council members in all of their decisions. It was as much a military drill as it was a political message.

As the two fleets moved over Eden Prime, the side of the first ground exercise of their toor, the recently promoted Rear Admiral Gates was well aware that he was being used as a political pawn. He was the man that had made the call to land on Parnack and the Sun Tzu, his last command on which the decision had been made was part of the carrier group as well, now being commanded by its former XO. It wasn't a coincidence that both the ship and its former commander happened to end up in the same carrier group. Not that he minded, Gates had planned to catch up with his last crew anyway, at least once he had time to do so. Having been given command over a carrier group had made him a very busy man. Gates effectively commanded the Hawking itself, an Einstein-Class carrier, the Sun Tzu, eight additional cruisers and their corresponding eight frigate wolfpacks. He also had to worry about the several support vessels, of both logistical and medical kind, that came attached to such a massive naval formation.

But he knew that he wasn't the only one with that much work on his hands. The turian fleet was not very different from their own, the biggest difference being that their flag ship was a dreadnought. It was an impressive sight to say the least, and as turian naval doctrine dictated it was escorted by twelve cruisers and well over thirty frigates who were most likely tasked with protecting the dreadnought just as much as they were tasked with protecting the combat support vessels. The turian space craft all shared a very similar design. They had a white, hawk-like look, wings being attached to the main hulls, and it was far easier to identify the different classes through their size than through optical differences such as the differently coloured highlights on their surface. For all intends and purposes, on the outside the ships ahead of his formation all looked just about the same, at least in Gates' opinion. The thought that the turian admiral probably thought very much the same about his ships crossed his mind just as he had finished the thought. While their fellow exercise participants followed a design philosophy that reminded him of birds of pray, he couldn't claim that the narrow, elongated green hulls of the HSA's fleet were very diverse either. There was a uniformity to their design as light rays of Eden Prime's sun reflected of their hulls, making the red highlights and finer details on their surface clearly visible from his position on the bridge.

"Turian fleet reports being ready to enter orbit, Rear Admiral Gates," a crew member informed him as he threw one final glance through the bridge's frontal window before turning around. Time to earn his living.

"Tell them to follow our lead. Helmsman, bring us in position over the designated training grounds," he took a sip of coffee, the life blood of people that had to work as much as he did. "Inform Major Alenko that he can prepare his man for rapid deployment."

The communications officer relayed the orders and all around the fleet, especially on the Sun Tzu, marines were starting to enter their Kodiaks, ready to put on a good show for the galaxy.

* * *

 **2129 CE, Utopia System, Eden Prime, THS Silus**

"All ground forces, prepare for deployment." Admiral Quentius voice rang through the room as the young turian checked his Phaeston again, just to make sure. He was currently aboard the dreadnought 'Silus', named after one of the turian spirits standing for comradeship, suspecting that the Primarchs' decision to sent this particular ship was meant as a message for the Salarian Union and the asri. After all, they could've sent any other fleet with any other dreadnought. named after any other spirit of his people. It was clearly intentional on their part and it wouldn't be the first time that the Turian Hierarchy used the name of something as a political provocation.

Not that he minded a jab at the two governments. It had been their choice not to take part in this particular event.

Around him one of the vessel's hangars was full of turian soldiers as they climbed into the transports that would deploy them into their area of operation. As his unit followed the markers on the floor, several of the regular turian soldiers threw suspicious glances towards them as the shock troops passed by them. He suspected that he'd experience this from now on. The purple markings on their dark-grey armor tended to bring out a sense of uneasiness in most turians as they remembered what these markings stood for in the past. As one of their own turned his head ever so slightly, the NCO to his left came to life.

"Eyes up front, cabals" Kabalim Vitallion ordered as the turian biotics ignored them and boarded the vessel.

The formation of the Cabal Corps was a cultural reaction towards the use of biotic soldiers during the Unification Wars. During the bloody period of turian pre-council history, black ops units would recruit turian biotics as infiltrators. They'd be planted in regular infantry legions to observe their behavoir, their orders being to report any anti-Hierarchy sentiment within the units they were attached to or find themselves employed as professional assassins, committing unspeakable acts for the Hierarchy. Because of their past purpose within the military, regulars did not trust biotic turians. To avoid this mistrust from causing great harm, the Hierarchy had decided to isolate every turian that had a degree of biotic potential in the elite units of the Cabal Corps. Working in squads lead by an NCO, a Kabalim with years of experience, the soldiers were not only trained in asymmetrical warfare but also filled the role of shock troops, a role they gladly took upon themselves because their unique abilites, for example their biotic barriers, gave them a better chance at surviving such a high risk assignment. The soldiers drafted into these units felt no resentment towards the Hierarchy, instead seeing their isolation as a way to uphold unit cohesion in regular formations and serve the Hierarchy as best as they could.

"Who invited you to the field trip? Got lost on the way to basic?" a cabal asked him in a joking voice as he sat down next to him. It was a justified question as the sixteen year old turian could certainly be seen as an anomaly among his older peers. He was the newest and by far least experienced member of the squad, having arrived to his assignment on the Silus literal hours before it left the Trebia System.

"I got fast tracked out of boot camp," the white plated turian, who lacked facial marks, replied.

The mandibles of the cabal clicked into the turian equivalent of a smirk, probably remembering a similar situation. There were two distinctive ways one could find their way into the Cabal Corps, either they knew they were a biotic before boot camp or they involuntarily found out during it, the later of which would see them removed from the other regulars before being sent to a cabal specific training camp.

"Who's mandible did you rip of with a biotic punch?" the older turian chuckled.

"He had it coming," the younger one simply shrugged.

"I know, I know. I've been there," the other cabal replied. "I don't think we've met yet," he turned towards him, "I'm Bassilo Kandros." he offered.

"Saren Arterius," he gritted through his teeth as the turian shuttle shook upon entering atmosphere. He had experienced some training drops during the last year and they had been nothing like this. As his spine felt like it was being forcefully pressed together, he wondered if the training pilots had gone easy on them or if the inertial dampeners of this particular craft were simply dysfunctional. Just how the people around him seemed completely unaffected by it was a question he'd love to hear the answer to.

"Pleasure to meet you, Saren," Kandros chuckled, probably as a result to Saren's reaction. "Ready for this?"

"Born ready," he nodded as the shaking mercifully grew less intense and a quick look to the screen on the ceiling confirmed that they were almost on the surface already.

"Ready up, cabals," it rang through the back of the shuttle as the turian next to him undid his harness, an action Saren quickly repeated. Not a moment later all of them rose to their feet as red light engulfed the crew compartment. The pilot was signaling them of the immediate deployment. The shuttle doors opened as the craft slowed down some meters above the ground, several other white shapes flying next to it which were keeping their distance from each other so they'd avoid being shot down by the same anti-air missile. The rain poured down from the sky and dripped down the side of the shuttle, a few droplets hitting his visor. Then everything happened almost mechanically. Once the green light became visible, their Kabalim shouted the order to jump.

So Saren jumped.

He fell to the ground, shielding his head with his arms and rolling exactly twice before rising to his feet, surprised at having executed the maneuver as flawless as he had just done. He rose to his feet and quickly fell into formation with the other cabals, looking up just in time to see a turian frigate deploy two Jiris IFVs from it's hatch. The green vehicles fell unchecked for a few moments until their Element Zero engines kicked in, causing them to gently hover to a stop just above the ground before the small ramps at their back were opened and regulars started to pour out of them, securing the area while their transports moved to their ordered positions.

While the regular turian infantry began doing their part of the operation, the cabals moved up to a grassy hill. Coming to a stop, Saren threw himself to the ground before awaiting further orders, a cabal of another squad lying down next to him as the shock troops linked up in preparation for the next phase of the exercise. They'd lead the charge towards their objective alongside a human platoon, the mechanized regulars and other human forces providing cover for them along the way. Once they had eliminated the first human defenders, who were also acting as their opponents during this exercise, the rest of their forces would follow the path they had cleared while they provided overwatch. He was torn from his thoughts when a human, most likely a messenger sent to link up with the turian commanders on the line, quickly dashed past a lower part of the hill and planted himself between him and the cabal, his forest green armor getting covered in mud as he touched down on the wet soil.

"Where's your squad leader?" he questioned, his breath slightly faster than it probably should have been.

"Further down the line. Kabalim Vitallion, big guy with red facial marks and three dots on his collar," Saren explained, making sure to describe him in a way that would make him recognizable for the human. The fact that few cabals wore helmets, preferring the usually non-standard issue eye pieces given to selected units within the Hierarchy, made that easier. Had they been normal infantrymen, they would've looked just as indistinguishable from each other as their current allies.

"Thanks. Stay sharp," the human nodded before he pushed himself back up and moved along the line, doing his best to stay hidden behind the hill because across the elevation lay their target. Build to train human marine units in urban warfare, as far as the briefing had informed him the mock city would be defended by units of the HSA army, trying to defend against the attack mounted by the two species until they were either defeated or the exercise ended.

"Alright Cabals, listen up," his commander declared as his voice came through Saren's own visor, "We're going to be part of the first wave," his HUD started to show him an aerial display of the combat zone as the Kabalim went over the plan gain. "We'll move up towards the edge of Building Three. For those that failed to update their visual translators, that's the three story one with two red half circles on top of each other," the turian elaborated as Saren realised that he was among the cabals that the NCO was referring to, cursing under his breath. "On our left human mechanized forces will cover our advance and move up with us. We'll sweep the building of enemies and take position on the roof. From there on out, we'll provide biotic support. The grand objective of the exercise is to capture the town center, regulars will take care of that." he stopped a second. "Remember, this is an exercise. If your HUD says you're dead, you're dead. Watch your biotics and get ready," he finished.

The word of caution was justified, not because the cabals lacked control over their powers but because because the humans were far from familiar with the dangers linked to biotic powers. Something a cabal recognized as an impending biotic detonation may very well look harmless to a human grunt. Killing the people one was training with was hardly the purpose of an exercise. He flicked off the safety of his Phaeston, which was loaded with an ammunition block that created harmless training rounds and checked the small attachment at its front. The projector would create a focused beam of light and the small sensors they had attached to their armor would register every time they were hit. If they died, their gun would lock up and they'd be out for the duration of the exercise.

It wasn't quite like the tranquilizing rounds turians usually used for training but due to their incompatibility with the human hardsuits, they had to settle for this less realistic approach.

The human mechanized support, large combat suits called 'Paladins', were piloted by specifically trained soldiers. When they started to open fire on several buildings, he heard his Kabalim give the signal to advance.

"Alright, go. Watch your spacing," it rang through his ears as the NCO shouted through their squad intercom and just like that, Saren and the cabals resting alongside the hill began to climb upwards, clearing the hill and breaking into a dash towards the wall of Building Three. The turians, slightly faster than the human platoon following their charge, rushed across the open field between the hill and the building. His legs carried Saren forward as he saw one cabal stop in the corner of his eyes, probably being declared dead by his suit, several of the humans doing the same when they caught up to them, revealing their position to be in the vision of a capable marksman. The young cabal kept running as another member of his squad 'flat-lined' on his HUD and Saren almost expected to be next right until he touched the wall of the building, having made it to safety for now.

"We'll breach through the windows," the Kabalim of his unit said to a human that had made it to the building as well. "We can use our biotics to soften them up from behind while you break through the front," he explained as the man nodded.

"Copy that. We'll take the main entrance." the human marine said in perfect Pallian even if his mouth was incapable of creating several of the language's sounds, the miracles of translating software at work. He made a gesture with his five-fingered hand and one of his comrades moved up to the door. "Just give the signal," he clarified as he placed a hand on the shoulder of the man next to the door.

"Cabals, stack up," Vitallion ordered. "Kandros, you're on point."

The cabal moved up to the window and started to be surrounded by a purple light as he decreased his mass to reduce the time it would take him to execute the breach. A regular turian soldier would take a few seconds to climb through the window due to the weight of his gear, being biotic meant that a cabal could put that time to shame.

"Breach," the turian ordered and Kandros jumped through the window in a single leap, a feat that would be impossible if not for his reduced weight. Gunfire broke out inside as the Vitallion followed the pointman just as Saren saw one of the human soldiers kick in the door on the other side of the wall. The human team leader slapped his hand on the shoulder of the man in front of him causing the soldier to throw a grenade into the room. After a bright explosion, the marine in front of the line rounded the corner and started to fire just as the cabal in front of Saren cleared the window.

The young cabal flickered with biotic energy as he too jumped through the window just in time to the final defender of the room 'die'. The man dropped his arms in frustration and stood still in the corner he had been using for cover, signaling him to be 'dead'. Vitallion instructed his squad to clear the adjacent rooms as human gunfire echoed through the building. The cabals split up into three groups and Saren found himself taking point for the second group. He walked towards his assigned door and peeked through it, only to see one human defender look back at him. The turian turned the corner and his Phaeston and the human's SR-7 both started to fire at roughly the same time, his biotic barriers giving him the edge. The human 'died' as his gun locked up and Saren moved through the room up to the other door inside it, the two cabals of his group covering the stairway to his right. He took a few more steps towards the door and when a human figure appeared from within the room, Saren was about to pull his trigger again until his HUD informed him that this one was part of the friendly human forces that had entered through the main door. They walked towards each other, meeting just shy off the hallway centre. The marine in front of the human team stopped shortly in front of the one room in between them and gave Saren the signal to move up to the opposite side of the door. After a moment of consideration, he complied and looked at the human.

"You're biotic, right?" the human asked as he readied his rifle.

"Yes," Saren answered truthfully. "You want me to take point?" it made sense. His barriers made him more resilient and would buy him a few precious seconds should the hostiles inside appear from an unexpected position.

"Can you place one of those barriers on me?." the human surprised him before explaining his intention. "You're more vital to the job than me."

"That I can do," Saren said as he flared in a purple light, casting his hand towards the human. The marine next to him shifted a moment, probably unfamiliar with the feeling before looking at the purple field now surrounding him.

"Much appreciated," he nodded before he and the humans behind him rounded the corner and Saren heard the blanks fire. Shortly afterwards the marine declared that the room was cleared and returned outside again.

"Let's move up to the second floor," the soldier said as Saren followed him to the stairs.

"Kabalim Vitallion?" the human corporal questioned.

"Yes?" Saren's squad leader replied.

"Place barriers on us so our guys can take the heat. We need as many of you on that roof as possible." he stated. "No point in biotic support if half of you are too dead to deliver it."

"Good call," the Kabalim nodded. "Cabals, barriers up." he ordered and shortly afterwards the remaining human marines were embraced by mass effect fields as several of the turians glew with a purple light, casting mass effect fields around them. The squad moved up the stairway and the cabals followed, the two teams swiftly becoming one unit. When the mixed formation reached the end of the stairway, the next room just around the corner, the first human that turned around it started to fire his SR-7 at a target that had been waiting for them to get this far. The shell casings of the gunpowder weapon bounced off the wall and fell to the ground, still smoking as the rolled won the stairs. The marine turned around back to the people behind him and started to describe just what was pinning them down.

"Machine gunner at the other side of the hallway. He's got good cover," he paused for a second before looking at Kabalim Vitallion. "What else can you do?"

"Lift his cove,." the turian quickly suggested. "You're up Arterius."

Saren squeezed past two cabals and the humans until he was right next to the pointman, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as the tight stairway left them little room to maneuver.

"You shoot, I lift," he told the human who nodded his understanding of Saren's 'order'. The human rounded the corner again, still protected by the turian barrier and his armor. His rifle barked as Saren appeared next to him, spotting the green figure, machine gun in his hand, at the end of the hallway. Saren threw his hand forward as a ball of purple energy seized control of the metal shield the machine gunner used for cover. It started to move to the side, leaving the human human shocked and exposed to the SR-7 rounds. The man, realising he wouldn't get away in time, instead continued to fire to buy his comrades time to for further preparation. After a few seconds both the pointman and the machine gunner were declared dead at the same time, their weapons locking up and putting an abrupt end to the orchestra of gunfire that had occupied the hallway.

"Don't sweat it," the human said to Saren, officially breaking the rule of no longer talking after 'dying'. "Just win this."

Saren nodded at him as another human, this one too protected by a turian barrier, moved past him to replace the fallen pointman. The group fanned out from the stairway and started to secure the second floor of the building. Resistance appeared to be less stiff than on the level below them as the cabals found many of the rooms to simply be empty. As he and Kandros moved up to the last room on this floor, the rest of their unit and the human squad that had joined them began their advance towards the third level. Kandros opened the door and Saren spotted a human defender inside, dropping him with precise fire from his Phaeston while once more profiting from his barriers buying him more time. While Kandros continued to use the sturdy door as a way to block fire, slowly inching it to the side, Saren adapted to the tactic and eliminated another human that had been moving to counter the move. This one was obviously more frustrated as he mumbled something about the 'bloody space magic' before leaning against te wall. Kandros, deciding that the time for caution was gone, threw the door open and very quickly dropped the last remaining defender, taking one final look before nodding towards Saren.

"All clear."

The cabals joined the push up the stairs and to the third story which would lead them to the roof. As they climbed the stairs, Saren looked out of a small window at towards another building being cleared by an all human team. Lacking biotic support, the group moved faster than the one he was attached to because speed was just about their only advantage. Next it stood one of the imposing human Paladins, its gun firing at a target across the 'city' as it used the building itself the same way he'd use a wall for cover. He moved up the stairs and ahead a human kicked open the door towards the roof. The group spread itself out as they walked outside only for the man to fire a burst from his rifle before hitting the ground and rolling sideways, a motion everyone on the roof repeated either out of training or out of instinct.

"Across the street, there's a sniper on the roof," he explained as he leaned against the wall of the roof.

"Went right through the barrier," a cabal explained as he cast his hand towards the human once more. "We're pinned, the rifle's too strong. He got lucky."

The human corporal looked first looked at the roof and then at the Kabalim, repeating the motion until both of them seemed to have a realization at the same moment.

"That might just work," they agreed.

* * *

 **13\. August 2387 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy**

"Alright, why are you this happy? It's really starting to weird me out," Goyle said to her security advisor as he rocked on his heels within her office.

"Why? Can't I be happy?" he cracked a smile.

"You are always cheerful, but this is just so extreme. We are facing the backlash of a joint-military exercises and the asari and salarians might as well hate us right now. As my security advisor you should be worried about some activists attacking the embassy right now, Alec."

"I can't help it. Sorry," he chuckled.

"Did you get promoted lately?" she replied.

"Nope."

"Scored higher on a marksmanship test?"

"I always score a perfect one hundred."

"Beat up someone in a bar fight?"

"Not in the last two month, no."

"Got an assassination job?"

"Nah. Haven't had one of those in a long time actually."

"Then what?" Antia questioned. "What could possibly make you this happy if not the application of violence?" she joked.

"I'm gonna be a dad," he stated cheerfully.

"Really?" she dropped the tablet on the desk and walked over to him. "When?"

"April," he said, not being able to be anything but happy right about now.

"Congratulations," Goyle hugged the man she had befriended over the last two years. "I'm so happy for you two!"

"Just don't tell her I told you before she told her parents. Otherwise I'm done," he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck.

"Do I sense fear in you, Specialist Shepard?" Goyle joked. "I think I do feel the sudden desire to talk to Hannah."

"No, please. Mercy!" he pleaded in a mocking tone.

They laughed, ignoring the diplomatic pressure for the moment.

* * *

 **2129 CE, Eden Prime, HSA Urban Warfare Training Center**

As he was thrown through the air, being protected by the barriers of half his cabal squad all the while the the other half accelerated him, Saren wondered how Kabalim Vitallion and the human Corporal Hackett had both gotten this idea at exactly the same time. While it was arguably ingenious, it was beyond insane. Aiming his Phaeston at the equally perplexed sniper team lying on the roof he was currently flying toward,s he cursed the spirits for the fact that he was the lightest member of the two squads. Firing a precise burst of blanks at the spotter, the man didn't even have the words to complain about what had just happened while his sniper actually managed to land a hit against Saren's barriers, shattering them instantaneously. But being protected by six additional one's, it didn't make a difference. The sniper was declared a casualty as Saren hit him just before landed with surprising grace, kneeling down on the roof. The man and just looked at his spotter in disbelief before both of them decided to simply walk away from their equipment, the grey covers that had hidden them from prying eyes falling of their backs as they got up.

On the other roof another human was equally speechless.

"It actually fucking worked?" the marine looked at his corporal. "How did that just work?"

"Don't care," Corporal Hackett dismissed him and looked at the Kabalim. "Throw me over there. We can use that rifle and we can't just leave him alone."

After a moment of preparation, the process repeated itself and Saren saw another form flying over the gap. The human landed with less grace than the first 'projectile', only somewhat breaking his fall by rolling before stumbling to his feet and rushing towards Saren.

"Are you crazy?" Saren questioned. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't just let you sit around here now can I?" he said as pointed towards the sniping equipment before nodding towards the door, "let's lock that door and put that PR-74 to good use."

The young turian cracked his mandibles into a smirk an they got to work barricading the door of the roof, crawling to the sniping equipment after making sure no one would surprise them from behind. He was starting to like these humans, even if they were certifiable insane by turian standards their ideas seemed to be just the right kind of crazy to actually work. On top of Building Three the turian cabals started their duty of applying biotic support as the main assault started to gain a foot hold on the outskirts of the city. He could see a Jiris IFV moving up to a single story prefab building before it fired a shot at a target designated to act as an enemy APC. The anti-tank missile flew through a narrow gap between two buildings and penetrated the simulated enemy vehicle, taking it out of the fight for good. Then the Jiris deployed a smoke screen as it withdrew behind the cover of the prefab. The advantage of it being a hovercraft vehicle was that it could actually make itself smaller than other means of transportation. By lowering the output of the mass effect fields repulsing the Jiris of the ground, the turian vehicle could very literally 'take cover'.

"How good are your eyes?" Saren recalled the briefing he had gotten on working with humans.

Humans, like turians, evolved as a pack hunting predator. However unlike turians, human hunting wasn't based on speed or natural weapons like sharp teeth or talons, instead using crafted weapons, scavenging tactics and their natural endurance to get through the day. Due to the conditions of their evolution turians were blessed with the ability to judge distance incredibly well thanks to their fantastic binocular vision, Humans however were better at spotting contrasts and unconsciously completed shapes that were partially covered by each other, a mechanism useful to turn parts of the image of a predator lurking behind tall grass into the actual predator. Since the spotter needed to be able to make out targets and give the sniper information on both its location and distance, it was only logical to let the turian do it.

Furthermore Saren doubted that he could accurately work with an unfamiliar rifle designed for not three but five fingers. The sniper actually needed to hit what he was aiming for, that required familiarity with the weapon and the anatomy it was designed for.

"Better than yours at spotting," he crouched down towards the device as the human next to him picked up the rifle and adjusted the scope to his needs before pressing its stock into his shoulder.

"Building with the two blue lines next to each other," he informed Hackett, once more cursing himself for not updating his visual translator.

"That's an eleven," Hackett replied as he rested part of the rifle on his left forearm to balance it.

"Building Eleven," Saren corrected himself.

"450. Rifleman," he stated the distance. Translators usually converted range numbers into whatever measurement unit the species one was talking to used,"Second floor, left of the 'eleven', bottom of the window."

"I see him," the newly promoted sniper replied. His finger slid towards the trigger and slowly began squeezing until it found its pressure point. The rifle fired of a blank as a beam of light let the rifleman know that he had just died.

"Same building, roof. Right side from the 'eleven'. Same distance. Rifleman."

Hackett placed the sights on the HSA soldier but as his finger began closing in on the trigger a message appeared in Saren's field of view, informing him that the objective of the exercise, securing the town center, had been completed by a turian mechanized platoon with the help of their own IFVs and human Paladins. The human next to him let go of the rifle and threw a look behind him.

"Please tell me you didn't barricade the door excessively." Hackett joked as he and the slightly taller turian stood up.

"Hey I could always throw you back to the other roof and jump down. Works for me," Saren offered.

* * *

 **2129 CE, Citadel, Presidium**

"In other news, the Turian Hierarchy and Human Systems Alliance continue their joint military exercise on Taetrus, practicing fire support maneuvers in the Diluvian Wildlands. Now joining us is Colonel Adrien Victus, who has already taken part in multiple ground exercise with human forces," the asari moderator introduced turian with white facial marks and dark grey plates sitting next to her. "Thank you for being here, Colonel Victus. As I've been informed you are missing out on the exercise on Taetrus just so you could talk to us?"

"That is correct, thank you for having me though," the characteristic metal flanging of a turian voice echoed through the recording room.

"Colonel Victus,", the reporter began, "to start of I'd like to ask you a question most of us have been wondering since the start of these joint exercises. How is the Hierarchy benefiting from training with a technologically inferior race?"

"Tactics, creativity and a new perspective are not linked to the technological development of a species Miss T'vani. Let me give you an example. The fleet we are exercising with is a carrier battle group. Its flagship, the HSASV Hawking, is a so called 'carrier'," he stopped for a moment as he collected his thoughts. "It is a vessel the size of a dreadnought but without a main cannon running along its spine. Instead it relies on releasing large amount of fighters armed with torpedoes and interceptors to protect said fighters. Upon completing that task, the carrier withdraws back to safe distance and the fighters swarm their target, devastating it with their weapons at close range."

"This doesn't sound very useful," the reporter said, "Nor reasonable. Quite dangerous actually, weren't guardian lasers designed to prevent exactly this from happening?"

"On the contrary, naval exercises have revealed it to be an incredibly effective design." Victus disagreed. "Due to military restrictions and out of respect for the HSA, I won't go into detail as to how exactly they are employed but our naval commanders are impressed."

"Thank you for your opinion on this subject. So would you say that the HSA could benefit the Council in the long run?" the reporter questioned.

"Definitely. Ever since contact the HSA has been nothing but cooperative with the Hierarchy. We fully intend to do everything in our power to strengthen this relationship," he nodded. "They could also make a fantastic addition to the Council in the future."

The asari seemed perplexed. "I think you mean a fantastic associate, correct?"

"I meant exactly what I said, Miss T'vani," Victus insisted. "But since I'm no politician I'd prefer not to go into this subject."

"As you wish. Now I'd like to ask you something of your expertise. You have taken part in multiple ground engagements and trained alongside human ground forces. Have there been signs of racial tensions or was there trouble with working together? Two new races meeting each other for the first time is always tricky."

"None that I know of. The beauty of the military is that you are working with people who think exactly like you. Turian and human forces have worked together fluidly and I'm not aware of any discrimination occurring. In fact turian and human soldiers are getting along great," Victus stated before sounding more excited. "As a personal example, I've quite enjoyed discussing the advantages of entrenched positions with human field officers. Unlike salarian and asari forces, the HSA still equips their ground troops with the means to build improvised fortifications," his mandibles twitched. "It is nice to finally be able to talk about fox holes with someone that isn't turian. Being an infantryman at heart, it makes me happy."

His face gave away his excitement as he recalled digging countless of trenches with his very own entrenching tool back in his youth while T'vani seemed to be a bit caught of guard at the turian rejoicing over the act of digging a hole in the ground, taking a moment to reclaim her composure. "You seem to have taken quite the liking towards their tactis," she said, somewhat confused. "Anyway, let's get to our next que-"

The screen turned off as its owner decided to be done with this subject for today.

"This isn't good," the soft voice of Councilor Tevos stated to the visitor in her office.

"I didn't think something like this would happen in my life," the visitor replied. "I am sure there are plans being put in place to contain this situation? It's clear that you don't like where thi-"

"Of course there are," the councilor assured the person sitting in the couch placed in her councilor office, interrupting her to avoid hearing her own opinion on the matter. "Our huntresses and the salarian STG are already gathering intel, but they don't have the same reach you do-"

"I am a Spectre, I don't serve the asari or the salarians alone. I serve the council. A council includes the turians."

"Do you now?" Councilor Tevos sent a data package towards the omni-tool of her visitor. "We both know you like to find other employers in your downtime, employers like the Shadow Broker. Don't you, Agent Vasir?"

Even though decades of being a Spectre had made her a calm person, she still flinched at the revelation of her sporadic deals with the galaxy's biggest information broker. One kidnapping here, an assassination there. Nothing big. After all she did it to better serve the Council. Intel was half the battle in the opinion of her late salarian mentor who had introduced her to the Spectres and no one had better intel than the Shadow Broker.

"Do you have nothing to say for yourself?" Tevos pressed on when she remained silent. "There could be severe repercussions should my colleagues or C-SEC learn of this."

"Could?" Tela had worked in her profession long enough to catch the hint hidden in her tone.

"As I am sure you only betrayed the Council to one of it's biggest enemies to ensure you could complete your assignments," she wouldn't exactly call it treason. Pragmatism had always been Tela's strong suit. A trait she seemed to share with Councilor Tevos if this was going where she suspected it to go.

"I believe that this won't require an investigation, should you be willing to cooperate." Tevos offered. It was definitely going where she suspected it to go. "There is something that would require your attention, Agent Vasir."

There it was.

"You want me to take care of the pro-human voices in the turian government?" she sighed.

"Goddess no, nothing that drastic." Tevos countered. "I believe that the 'Shadow Broker' and especially your ties to him could help us to learn more about the inner workings of the HSA, maybe we could find something they don't want others to know.."

"Can't have the turians make friends with the new kid," Tela concluded, doing far from her best to hide the sarcasm in her voice. "After all we can't have them drift away from the Council."

"Agent Vasir. I am ordering you to gather any form on intelligence the Shadow Broker has collected on humanity," Tevos stated as she looked at the skycars passing through the air of the Presidium, her back turned towards the Spectre.

"I'll depart at once," Tela stated as she left the councilor office in a hurry, only slowing down to pin a small, seemingly insignificant chip a friend of hers had once gifted to her into the gap between the wall and a piece of furniture. Tevos wasn't the only one who could blackmail people.

She walked out of the office as her omni-tool connected itself to the salarian-made device.

"Hello Huntress T'val." Tevos voice began to sound through it. "There is a matter of great importance that will require the talents of your commandos."

"It shall be done, Councilor Tevos."

After all, Tela hadn't been made a Spectre for her looks.

* * *

 **17\. September 2387 AD, Briefing Room of the HSASV Budapest**

"This 'Shadow Broker' has something we need," the man next to the projector said as the blue light of the device revealed the yellow hexagon on his chest. "and you are going to get it."

The projector displayed the image of a small drive."On this device we will find all the information he has gathered on the HSA up to now. If he sells it to the highest bidder, they'll know too much," the data drive didn't look any different from others Holderman had seen. He shifted in his seat and focused on his superior. "We can't allow that to happen. HSAIS has pinpointed the position of the drive on a remote transporter drifting in orbit around Illium," the projector started to build up the image of the planet. Illium was one of the richest worlds in the Terminus Systems and while originally an asari colony, the planet had soon become a paradise for corporate crime and other shady business. As far as HSAIS had informed them, the vessel would be guarded by a group calling itself 'Eclipse', officially a proactive security company. They'd most likely be fighting against mechs, asari biotics and salarian engineers.

"Full commitment on this one. If we can't get the disk, you jump ship and the Budapest will blow the freighter out of the sky with disruptor torpedoes. You'll have to wait for extraction via Kodiak if that happens," he switched the projector off. "No one can know we're here, we don't exist. Don't get captured and don't leave any witnesses. Questions?" he paused for a moment to give any soldier of the strike team the opportunity to voice said question. "None? Good. Get to the armory. You'll deploy in 20."

Holderman rose from his chair as the lights of the room turned on. He stretched his arms and began to walk the grey corridors of the Budapest along side the other seven members of the strike unit. They'd insert in two teams of four men each. His team would breach through the hull of the vessel and use the following vacuum exposure to kill as many of the crew as possible. The other team would plant explosives on the ship's communication gear and breach through the ceiling of the vessel's bridge at the same time. Then they'd clear the freighter together and secure the package. His strike team entered the elevator towards the hangar and armory deck. The doors of the cabin closed before it shot down. When it stopped, the members of the strike teams went straight to their lockers to retrieve their hardsuits. Unlike most normal human forces, the strike teams had already been outfitted with the kinetic barriers delivered by the Turian Hierarchy. Until the project to combine both shielding technologies was completed, they'd have to suffice.

Holderman began the familiar process of putting on the armor plates of his hardsuit. He locked the chest piece into place and grabbed the white helmet of the table. The hardsuit bore no marks besides a singel yellow hexagon on its shoulder, it was a clean slate. Holderman attached the combat rigging with grenades, breaching charges and other equipment to his upper body and he checked the lock on his magnetic boots, finding his feet stuck to the floor the moment he pressed the button on his wrist. Satisfied, he repeated the process several times and when the test was completed, he turned his attention towards the oxygen system of the armor that would keep him alive in the vacuum of space. The armor gave the all green to that system as well and he put on his helmet, the blue HUD inside lighting up.

Next he grabbed his gun. The SR-8x was one of the first research programs Cerberus had moved into the field-testing phase. Being a hybrid between the already proven SR-7 and mass accelerator technology, the gun would lower the weight and in turn increase the muzzle velocity of the round it fired as long as it was still in its barrel. This would lead to a higher acceleration and increase the force with which the bullet impacted in its target. The HSA was not yet fully convinced of mass effect weaponry as the guns required a 'cool down' should they fire too many rounds in too little time and as such it still used magazines and could be fired without the mass effect fields should the situation recall for it. Until a solution to the problem that kept them from fully embracing the concept was found, the SR-8x was deemed as a suitable alternative.

The soldier left the armory, his strike team close on his heel and made his way to the hangar of the Budapest, all but the most essential personal absent due to the upcoming opening of its main doors. Saluting the flight deck officer, also clad in a white hardsuit, the Cerberus operative walked up to the modified Kodiak. The shuttle was now capable of stealthily approaching most targets and would carry the two strike teams to the hull of the Eclipse freighter, departing the moment the strike teams left its crew compartment. The rest of his strike team entered the shuttle and when the doors closed, they sat in silence while the craft slowly started to leave the safety of the Budapest. The journey to the freighter was a silent one. Unlike the ride to Parnack almost four years ago no one felt the need to joke in order to relive an uneasy tension in face of the danger. They weren't grunts anymore, they weren't nervous. They were among the best soldiers humanity could produce and every last one of them knew it. The knowledge of being as prepared as they possibly could put their minds at ease as the craft soared through space, the sudden blinking of green light marking the end of their journey.

The doors of the crew compartment opened after the Kodiak had vented its atmosphere and Holderman was greeted by the darkness of space and the freighter floating in orbit around Illium, merely one among hundreds. In the background small dots rallied around one of the major space stations around Illium and the operative was well aware that Eclipse could probably sent a quick reaction force to the freighter. He jumped out of the Kodiak, slowly flying over a distance he could never hope to clear in reasonable gravity, and touched down gently on the hull of the freighter. His magnetic boots connected with the metal plating as he saw his team leader place a demolitions charge on the red surface before putting some distance between him and the explosive.

The charge stayed in place thanks to magnetic forces doing their bidding and now the only thing they were waiting for was the signal. As his HUD informed him of the impeding destruction of the freighter's communication's array, he prepared himself for the breach. He only saw the orange flash of the explosion, its crack not audible as sound didn't travel in space, and an instant later the hull was torn apart. An asari and two salarians were sucked outside immediately, their faces full of surprise as they flew past Holderman, condemned to die upon being exposed to the vacuum of space. Another asari, this one having decided to put on her helmet, probably as a reaction to the strange sounds echoing through the hall and into the ship's interior, tried to hold on as the air escaping the vessel tried to suck her out, the cable she had grabbed failing to support her weight just as the last volumes of air left the breached area. She drifted outside but with no ability to move in Zero-G, she was one of the easiest targets Holderman had ever been presented with. A single round smashed into the back of the asari's neck and purple bubbles started to appear in space as she not only choked but also bled to death, the force of the round causing her body to be propelled away from the craft. He followed his team leader into the vessel, small maneuver thrusters on his armor allowing him precise movements even without gravity right until the artificial gravity of the freighter itself pulled him to the ground. He stepped inside as another member of his unit executed a salarian that had managed to magnetize his boots with the SR-8x in his hand. Green blood started to leak from the head wound and the team moved on, paying no mind to the fact that he had been unarmed and presumably terrified.

Their orders were clear after all.

Forcing open a sealed blast door was no easy task, after all they were supposed to prevent hull breaches from destroying entire ships. For this reason the team had been given enough breaching charges to blow up the entire freighter if the situation required it. Holderman floated placed the magnetic charge on the door and took his position right behind the pointman, forming a neat row just outside the soon-to-be hole in the wall. Shortly afterwards another detonation exposed another section of the ship to vacuum. The deck beyond the now destroyed door looked like a makeshift barracks and due to the small time frame between the first breach and the follow up breach, Holderman was once more greeted by asari in various states of armor getting sucked out of room, the attraction of artificial gravity proving itself weaker than that of the vacuum. One asari smashed into the door and parts of her skull spilled on Holderman's armor as her head gave in to the sharp metal edges the blast had created. Another particularly young looking, blue alien flew past him with a shocked expression, a quick shot into the face stopping her from ever expressing anything again. They moved into the room and met no resistance as most of its inhabitants hadn't survived their short encounter with decompression and the few that did were in no shape to fight back when white armoured figures executed them before they could even lift themselves of whatever part of the room's floor they wee lying on.

"Bridge cleared, commanding officer secured. Get up here," the leader of the second team stated as the doors to another corridor opened and the first team walked inside, the untouched, red blastdoor sliding closed behind them. "Re-pressurising," a voice declared and after a moment Holderman's armor informed him that he was no longer within a vacuum, marking the completion of the process. The door in front of them opened to a hallway, lights on the ceiling guiding them to an elevator.

"Go to Deck Three, Room Five," a voice informed him as Holderman joined the three members of his unit within the cabin. "The package is a small, blue chest located inside."

The elevator transported them downwards and as the doors opened Holderman immediately raised his rifle to dispatch the lone salarian that had been waiting in the corridor, purple blood already visible on his armor, betraying what would happen next. The door of the room they were looking for was already open as his team leader signaled for one of the team to move up and investigate. The soldier complied, walked to the door and pressed himself against the red wall. He slowly walked towards the opening and when he had arrived, Holderman moved up uder his cover. He placed his hand on the back of the soldiers helmet and the two rounded the corner after he gave two distinctive taps.

It happened fast. The first soldier came flying out instantly as Holderman ducked to avoid a collission with one hundred fifty kilograms of armor, muscle and equipment. He spotted anasari in blue armor, still purple light of recent biotic activity dancing over her arm as he closed the distance. His fist smashed into her barriers once but had no effect. Holderman's next punch followed and connected at the same moment a biotic fueled strike passed by his kinetic barriers and sent a wave of pain through his chest. He ignored it and threw himself against the smaller asari, tackling her to the ground seconds after she managed to seal the door behind them with her biotics, throwing a box against the locking mechanism and triggering it in the process. They fell to the ground but she wasted no time being shocked, instead using her biotics to give her enough force to turn the bigger human on his back. Now sitting on top of him she started to beat down on his helmet. As a visible crack appeared in his vision, Holderman caught one of her punches and drew the alien towards him. When she was close enough he smashed his helmet into her face and purple blood started to drip on his visor. His helmet was reinforced and if the pain in his neck was anything to go by, it had been a very powerful collission. No one should've remained conscious after it. Yet the move just seemed to piss her off as he felt himself get heavier and heavier.

"Normally I'd love to go a few rounds with you," she said in a suggestive voice as she sat up from his body and drew a weird looking pistol. "But I'm afraid I can't right now, sorry," she trained the gun towards his stained helmet.

Holderman wanted to fight back but no matter what he tried, he couldn't move a single muscle in his body as his own weight became too much for him. He exhaled as he saw her trigger finger move, about ready to justify his life to his maker when an explosion tore the door open behind them, the asari being thrown into the room behind him as a purple field around her took the brunt of the explosion. The three members of his squad shuffled in and one moved to assist him only for them to all freeze in place as well.

From the corner an aggressively glowing asari rose while both of her hands placed a stasis on the four members, the strain evident on her face. Holderman, in spite of a bloodied and cracked visor, could see the blue box attached to her back. Damn.

"Better luck next time," the asari stated as she rushed out of the room only for tracers to fly past the door, a white figure stepping past it

"Is the package secure?" the second squad leader asked as three soldiers in white armor entered the room.

"Package not secured. Over."

* * *

 _Codex: Eden Prime_

 _Discovered and settled in the year of the HSA's founding, 2151, Eden Prime has since grown from a planet-sized urban planing experiment into one of the most important human colonies. Located in the Utopia System, the planet, like many other human colonies, borders the Terminus Systems. Being incredibly suited for life forms native to Earth, Eden Prime saw a large wave of immigrants flock to its gates when the human race was unified . While most of the world is used for agrarian purposes, it also serves as a military stronghold in the region, being the location of the UWTC/HSAMC, the Urban Warfare Training Center of the HSA Marine Corps, one of the most advanced exercise grounds in human space._

 _As such Eden Prime was selected as the first site of a joint turian-human ground maneuver in 2387, with the maneuver having become something akin to a tradition between the two civilizations. Bi-yearly exercises are now regulary held at the UWTC, with human and turian forces working together but also competing with each other in sophisticated urban combat scenarios._

 _Eden Prime's capital, Constant, was the first city that was constructed in accordance to the HSA's urban planing system. Every centimeter of Constant was planned to the last detail and while far more expensive than a regular colonial city, it remains far more effective than the cities of Horizon, Terra Nova, Earth or Acardia. Being the model for most major colonial cities established after its founding, Constant, and Eden Prime as a whole, is sometimes dubbed as the 'crown jewel' of the HSA._

* * *

 **A/N: First of, sorry for the delay. I attended tests for the military and passed them. That also meant I couldn't write since I wasn't home for the last three days.**

 **Anyway, doesn't really matter right now. I hope I managed to make this chapter good enough. I hope you aren't bothered by the fact that it's 95% combat and that certain parts don't just seem silly. Not much plot in this one, just set up.**

 **Again sorry for the delay.**

 **By now we have 111 follows and 84 favorites. That's crazy.**

 **Review guys, let me know what you think. I wanna know!**

 **See you around next time.**

 **Edit: As of 28.7.17 Chapter 5 has been remastered**

 **I actually didn't fix that much really, just fixed a lot of odd phrasing.**


	6. Friendly Competition

**Chapter 6. Friendly Competition**

* * *

 **17\. September 2387 AD, Illium**

His head rang like it had been hit with a sledgehammer and he almost didn't realise that he was being moved until he saw the doors of Room Five come closer to him. Holderman tried to shake the encroaching dizziness out of his head. As one of the operatives dragged him through the door, the pointman that had encountered the asari first rising to his feet up ahead, he heard the gunfire to his left until a deep thud followed by a high-pitched hiss echoed through the corridor, interrupting the fighting.

"The door is sealed, Sir," he heard while being moved to the elevator. "Bypassing it will take a few."

"Negative. Budapest. Blow the damn freighter out of the sky, package not secured," Holderman heard over his helmet intercom as the squad carried him through the corridors. It was a pragmatic call but with two out of eight operatives already incapacitated by the asari, it was the necessary one. There was a very real possibility that they would not be able to take her. "We're jumping ship, over and out."

"Copy that, Strike-Lead, disruptor torpedoes are on the way," a slightly distorted voice crackled through the radio in his helmet as he was dragged through the corridor, seeing a cable being attached to his armor when the group came to a halt in an adjacent room. Racing against time, one of the Cerberus operatives slapped a small, black canister onto the red wall of the room before ducking away. The magnetic charge detonated after a simple press of a detonator the squad of eight was sucked out into the vacuum of space by a sudden and violent atmospheric breach, Holderman feeling himself being coming to a stop as the operative he was attached to used the small air thrusters on his suits to counteract their momentum once they were far enough away from the freighter. While his face plate may crack at any given moment, his chances of surviving in space were far higher than his chances of surviving on the freighter. His eyes darted to the shrinking red shape just as a small vessel undid its docking clamps, avoiding the bluish streaks shooting towards the freighter by mere moments. There was a slight delay between the impact of the torpedoes and their effect but once that delay had passed, the freighter was quite literally torn into pieces. As it turned out, deploying weapons designed to destroy heavily armored warships against a civilian ship could be seen as overkill. The remains of the freighter quickly began to suffer from orbital decay as other craft responded to its automated distress beacon, powerless against the gravity of Illium pulling the debris into its atmosphere.

"Strike-Lead, I'm almost in range. Prepare to board. Over," the pilot of the modified Kodiak stated as Holderman saw another visible crack appear in front of him.

"Budapest this is Strike-Lead," the squad leader, Strike-Lead, began. "Requesting reinforcements to pursue the package onto the planet. Over."

"Strike-Lead, that's a negative. We can't risk landing human military forces on an asari world," the commander sighted. "Abort, over."

"Copy that Budapest. Boarding our ride," the squad leader replied as they started to slowly fly towards the Kodiak that had just arrived above them. As he was lifted into the Kodiak, the sound of its doors locking and breathable air filling the crew compartment, Holderman decided that he would not make a habit out of getting into fistfights with biotics.

* * *

 **2129 CE, Omega**

Huntress T'Val fired her Novice, an assault rifle specifically designed to meet the needs of the dreaded asari commandos, and another member of the Blood Pack died after peaking out from the window she had been aiming at. Earlier this week she had received a call from Matriarch Tevos that she and the other commandos sworn into her service would carry out synchronized raids on the Eclipse and Blood Pack while planting false evidence that would suggest human involvement on the matter. Having already served the matriarch for centuries, she and her fellow commandos had set out at a moments notice. Her unit had made its way to Omega, locating the dozens of smuggling docks one of the criminal syndicates used to spread the poison, which financed its other operations, from Omega to the rest of the galaxy. Once on the planetoid they had split apart into smaller units to hit several key locations at the same time. Now they, her and three other asari, were fighting through hordes of vorcha, who failed to present something even remotely resembling a threat to the four commandos, their actual target coming closer and closer with every dead mercenary. She knew that the timing of their operation needed to be almost perfect and as such she wouldn't complain about their enemies being unable to put up a decent fight.

On her left another huntress casted a warp towards an unfortunate vorcha, his feral screams sounding through the small docking bay as the rapidly shifting mass effect fields ate away his chest, tearing apart his brown, scarred flesh. However being a vorcha, the creature didn't go quietly, his natural resilience buying him just enough time to open the large entry gate they had previously sealed to keep out reinforcements. A rather smart and selfless move, especially for a vorcha. The doors slowly slid open until a large pair of dark-red gauntlets forced them open just enough for its owner to squeeze through, several squads of vorcha pouring through before the impatient mercenary made his entrance.

"Battlemaster!" a huntress exclaimed as the bulking form of a krogan stepped on the arm of an injured vorcha trying to crawl to the safety of the area behind the gate, his weight crushing every bone in its path without even the slightest sign of remorse.

"Heh," the field commander grunted, unimpressed by the burst of assault rifle fire his barriers deflected before his face. He rolled his shoulders exactly once and time seemed to slow down in T'Val's mind as he began his charge. The battlemaster pulled the Graal Spike Thrower attached to his armor into his hands and started to fire at the commandos as his feet carried him closer to them with each step. His first shot was aimed at the huntress closest to him. She reacted just in time for a spike to embed itself in the wall were her head would've been if not for quick reflexes causing her to leap to the side. Having set his eyes on her, he blew past the first huntress as T'Val sent another burst of sand grain sized rounds flying towards him, the Novice once more trying and failing to penetrate his barriers. As another huntress was smacked aside by the battlemaster, her biotic assault causing a purple flicker to surround the krogan, T'Val locked her eyes onto a shuttle engine dangling from the ceiling, the chains used to hold it in place looking far from stable. She quickly simulated her attack in her mind, realising that it should work if she timed it just right.

She summoned a purple ball of energy into her hands and threw it into the direction of the engine, its force snapping one of the rusty-brown chains. As the laws of physics were set into motion, the turbine came swinging into the path of the krogan far too quickly for the large reptile to stop its advance. As their paths crossed, the heavy krogan was smashed aside as the heavier shuttle part collided with him. He stumbled to the side before falling to the ground as the huntress closest to him seized the opportunity, aiming her Disciple at his head and quickly causing it to overheat as she pulled the trigger again and again. Upon witnessing the sudden death of their battlemaster, the remaining vorcha made a run for it, their already lackluster discipline falling apart completely. Normally T'Val avoided killing an already defeated foe but on this situation her orders were clear. She and the rest of her team unleashed a deadly volley upon the fleeing vorcha, cutting them down as they tried and failed to escape the commando unit.

When the last vorcha dropped dead just a few steps shy of escaping, T'Val brought up her omni-tool and started to feed the local Blood Pack channels counterfeited radio chatter about HSA Black Ops teams attacking them all over Omega, taking care to specify that they were destroying their stockpiles of Red Sand. After finishing this, she received a message from Councilor Tevos ordering her to upload the attached file onto the Blood Pack network. Obeying her matriarch, she did as she was instructed while her team was planted incendiary charges on the shipment they had just captured, their timers set to one standard minute.

"We're done here," she informed her fellow huntresses as the upload finished.

The asari walked away from the docking bay and paid no attention to the fire destroying Red Sand worth millions of credits behind them. They rounded the corner just as a fireball shot through the corridor behind them, the Red Sand cooking off and its more volatile gaseous state violently expanding upon coming into contact with the flames. As a series of similar explosions rocked the station around them, T'Val knew that the other squadrons had been successful as well.

* * *

 **2129 CE, Omega** **, Afterlife**

"They will pay," the krogan snarled at the leader of Eclipse from his couch, an unimpressed expression on her face even as he threw the glass tube he held in his hands into the wall next to her. The glass shattered upon impact and the krogan got up, grabbing the shotgun resting next to him before walking towards the asari. "Normally I'd rip your throat out just for coming here, Sederis, but this cannot stand!" Garm of clan Raik shouted through the club as the peope around him flinched, the eyes of a batarian enforcer darting into his direction before realising just who was causing the ruckus. "I'll drown them in their own blood, they'll regret the day they dared to mess with the Blood Pack."

"Calm down," Jona Sederis, founder of Eclipse, said after her guards trained their rifles on the furious krogan, a single wave of her hand causing them to take a step back. The krogan had a tendency to become angry when someone burned his Red Sand and she hadn't come here to pick a fight. "I came to you because, like you, I want revenge," she explained upon closing the recording of human forces attacking another smuggling freighter over Illium, "but to get our revenge, we need a plan."

"No, we need to crush them!" Garm stated. "Invade their home and kill them all!"

"The Blood Pack doesn't even possess a single dreadnought, how do you plan to take on a military that has thirteen? You krogan are good shock troopers but if you can't even reach the ground, how are you going to fight? You may have hundreds of thousands of kidnapped vorcha ready to take the fire of you but even you have to realise that their military still outnumbers you a hundred to one," Jona stated, having already prepared for this occasion. Garm wasn't exactly a master tactician, those usually didn't last very long in the Blood Pack. He simply held this position because he had killed his predecessor. "We need to hit them were it hurts but we also need to hit them someplace we can win."

The krogan growled angrily but seemed to listen. Maybe there was a brain behind that thick headplate after all.

"Go on."

"Ferris Fields."

"What?" the krogan grunted, not being able to connect anything of meaning to the name.

"It's a human colony only established about year ago. No big fortifications and only a small garrison. Its located in a system without a relay and the quickest response time would at least be 10 standard hours. We would be able to slaughter them and retreat before anyone can come to their aid," Sederis explained as the krogan stepped closer. "Then we move on to other colonies and repeat the process. We can hit multiple worlds while they move towards Ferris Fields."

"Not enough payback," Garm muttered as she flared her biotics to discourage him from getting any ideas. "I want them to bleed. All of them. A few, tiny colonies? Not enough."

"Eclipse is doing this, with or without you," she said as the krogan took a step back and walked through the room. "It doesn't matter to us if you're with us or not. This was simply an offer between people who's interest align," a smile crossed her face as she realised how to pull the krogan to her side. She reached for the gun on her hip and prepared herself. "You're free to become Garm the coward, the leader who refused the chance to attack those who crossed him. Won't that make for a nice headstone?"

Far quicker than a reptile of his size should've been able to, Garm spun on his heel and turned towards her, only for the heavy pistol appearing under his chin to stop him in his tracks.

"Fine," the krogan grunted as he smacked the gun aside. "You'll have the Blood Pack. Now get out of my sight."

Jona Sederis knew which buttons to push to get what she wanted.

* * *

 **19\. November 2387 AD, Ferris Fields**

Warrant Officer Trotsky strapped his helmet on and saw the first gunships of his unit rise from the airfield as transport vehicles and drop pods broke through the atmosphere, far too few of them exploding before making contact with the surface. The Army Colonial Watch on Ferris Fields was only recently given access to the A-83 Vulture, the newest aerial assault craft of the HSA's military industry complex and now they'd be put to use. He rushed towards his own gunship as his pilot fired up the engines, the sirens blaring across the airfield as his fellow soldiers did the same. His feet carried him towards the Vulture as a series of streaks shot into the air in the distance, vanishing beyond the clouds as they headed for their targets in orbit above Ferris Fields. As he climbed the ladder to the cockpit, he caught a glance of a fireball rapidly crashing to the surface over the colony's biggest, and only, city which until a few minutes ago had enjoyed a hot but peaceful summer day. That day had turned into a nightmare when dozens of unknown contacts had entered the system, only stopping to destroy the orbital stations around the colony before beginning the deployment of ground troops.

He had heard of slavers and pirate raids on worlds like Ferris Fields but neither of these groups should've known that the colony even existed. Detailed star charts including smaller, vulnerable worlds were something the HSA hadn't shared with anyone, instead only revealing the location of colonies far too big and far too well defended for either of the groups to even think about attacking. Yet here they were, countless of small, yellow dropships descending to the surface all the while drop pods of varying size shot past them. As he connected his helmet to the A-83, the nimble craft's cockpit closed and the airman outside removed the ladder used to enter it. When another airman gave them a thumbs up, his pilot began pressing a series of buttons that would allow them to ascend all the while he began preparing the weapon systems of the Vulture. Its light reflecting of the canopy, his attention was temporarily shifted to a large, red streak appearing in the sky above them. In the flames he could make out a brownish, rugged vessel and the smoke trail following it suggested that some of the surface-to-orbit weaponry of Ferris Fields' Colonial Watch had found its mark.

"All Onyx callsigns, follow my lead," the leader of Onyx Squadron ordered as the four gunships rose from the airfield, quickly forming up in the air before beginning their flight to their assigned combat zone.

"Who the fuck is attacking us?" callsign 'Matchbox', Onyx 2-1, questioned.

"No idea, Onyx 2-1," his pilot, Warrant Officer Santoz replied. "But they definitely underestimated the surface-to-orbit defenses," the man added as the burning craft collided with the surface of Ferris Fields, a bright explosion causing Trotsky to avert his eyes as the ships Eezo core detonated, reasing a cloud of blue dust into the air and covering the area in toxic Eezo dust. At least they wouldn't have to worry about survivors. The four gunships left the airfield behind them before flying above the forest between the garrisons' airfield and the capital of Ferris Fields. Above them more transports appeared, several of them exploding as an unseen anti-air battery tore into them, missiles exploding in between the shuttles, covering them with shrapnel and causing them to hurtle towards the ground far faster than they were designed to do. But even in face of the battery's best efforts, far too many of them got through.

"This is bad," Matchbox once more stated as a series of explosions swallowed a chunk of the forest to their left, causing the Vulture's to swing right and away from the incoming artillery barrage.

"Onyx 2-1, radio discipline," Onyx-Lead shut them up. "Onyx 3-1 and Onyx 4-1, break off and swing west. Enemy forces are making a push for the city, assist where you can. Onyx 2-1, follow my lead. We're ordered to harass an enemy landing zone. How copy? Over."

"Good copy, Onyx-Lead, Onyx 4-1 breaking off, over," Santoz replied as his own Vulture and Onyx 3-1 banked away from the other two craft, heading to the coordinates their squadron leader had sent them. As their gunship raced across the surface, he could make out the outer limits of the city, spotting a large crowd of people streaming into one of the colonial shelters as soldiers began to fortify positions around the bunker, ready to defend the shelter until they were either relieved or dead. Further up ahead, he could see Kodiaks touch down on the roofs of multiple tall buildings, soldiers in lighter armor jumping out of them, the rifles in their hands revealing them to be either designated marksmen, spotters or snipers.

Suddenly an alert within the cockpit informed them of an anti-air lock, stopping the gunner from observing his surroundings, instead turning his head to see two quickly approaching warheads shooting towards them from a clearing in the forest.

"Onyx 4-1, you got incoming," the gunner of the other Vulture spoke up. "Enemy manpads on your eight o'clock."

"Deploying flares," the pilot stated, the flick of a button causing bright, hot countermeasures to appear from the wings of the gunship, one of them attracting the missile that had been fired at them. While its explosion destroyed their other pursuer, it also caused the gunship's shields to flare up as they stopped small metal fragments from drilling into the Vulture's backside. "Trotsky?"

The Warrant Officer didn't need to hear more as he shifted the 30mm chaingun towards the source of the rockets and his HUD outlined the thermal images of the attackers as they ran for cover "Looks like salarians. Guns, Guns, Guns." he muttered before pressing down the button on the control stick between his legs. The rotary weapon spat death into the direction as his HUD showed bright white rounds tear into the AA-team, one of them cut down as one of the rounds exploded in his midsection and the other dying when the rounds finally caught up to him.

"Neutralized," he informed his pilot before he caught something else, between the trees a fireteam of army soldiers, several members of the unit apparently injured, tried to fall back towards the city limits, gunfire pinning them down and making them easy prey for their attackers. "Friendly forces engaging enemy infantry on our ten o'clock."

Realising the intend of his gunner, Santoz slowed down as the A-83 slowed down while Trotsky removed the safety of the air-to-surface missile. "Deploying ASM-13," he spoke into his radio before he hit the trigger. A single missile separated itself from one of the wings of the craft once its fuze ignited and Trotsky found himself rapidly flying towards the ground as his HUD was dominated by the perspective of the small camera in the front of the projectile. He steered it into the general direction the few uninjured soldiers were firing it and found the missile collide with a large, red lizard before the feed on his visor was replaced by static.

"Onyx-Lead, I just blew up what looked like a krogan. Sitrep? Over," Trotsky asked their squadron leader for clarification while seeing the injured infantry team withdraw below them.

"Ferris Fields Command confirms krogan, asari, salarians and vorcha on the surface," Onyx-Lead confirmed, " and our ground forces are instructed to conduct delay tactics to keep the from the shelters. Not everyone's made it into yet. Keep providing ground support and engage targets of opportunity, over."

As Onyx-Lead relayed the orders, his own A-83 once more started moving across the outskirts, gunfire from buildings, bridges and armored vehicles acting as roadblocks barely keeping the enemy forces at bay. He could see a squad of salarian figures, their tall and thin frames making them easy to identify, dash from the forest to a small general store, several of them dropping dead when the snipers zeroed in on them. While the squad tried to advance, he saw saw several of the attackers pull a tubes from their backs and when he realised that they were in fact not aiming at either the infantry or vehicles on the ground, his eyes widened.

"Bank left, bank left, manpads," he called through his radio as the two Vultures reacted almost immediately. One of the unguided missile blew past the gunship, missing the cockpit far too close for his liking only to impact the wall of a building Trotsky knew all to well.

"Motherfuckers just trashed my place. Now it's personal" he stated frustrated as the Vulture next to them opened fire, his own finger once more pushing down on top of the control stick as soon as the gun was in position. The rocketeers didn't stand a chance as the chainguns of two A-83 Vultures focused their fire on them. While there was no time for them to even attempt running away, there wouldn't have been a point in it either. The ones that didn't die at the hands of the gunships soon found their end at the hands of the snipers still lingering on the roofs off the city's outer districts. "Targets neutralized. We can move on."

"Negative, we got enemies coming down the road and Shelter Seven is taking a pounding," Warrant Officer Santoz explained as the Vulture moved deeper into the city, using one of the bigger buildings to avoid being targeted from all directions. "I need your eyes one o'clock, is that a bus?"

True to his pilot's assessment, a bus painted in the colours of the colony's police department was doing its best to avoid gunfire as it raced towards the shelter.

"Confirmed bus. Covering. Guns, Guns, Guns," the chaingun tore into the vorcha shooting at the police vehicle. In spite the two Onyx callsigns best efforts, the driver got hit nonetheless. The bus crashed into another vehicle which had been abandoned on the road and Trotsky could already make out the the red stains on the windshield only to spot a green shape dashing towards the now stopped vehicle. He registered the shape to be a soldier rushing to the vehicle in a suicidal charge for no apparent reason, dodging bullets and explosions before leaping towards the bus. He tore open the door as a dead woman fell into his arms. He let go of her the instant he realised that she was no longer alive and her corpse fell down before the soldier stepped inside the bus, moments passing as Trotssky wondered just why the man had taken this risk.

He understood when the grunt reappeared with a little kid in his arms, making a run for his shelter as the line of HSA infantry laid down suppressive fire for the two of them.

"ASM-13," Trotsky stated as another guided missile broke off the Vulture's wing. The missile left a trail of smoke and through the gunners guidance found its mark between two particularly big krogan, orange bits and pieces being scattered over the street and onto the walls. Then the alarm once more registered a lock-on but even before Santoz could deploy any form of flare an unguided missile exploded into the shields of the Vulture, destabilizing the craft. Someone had snuck up on them. Another explosion followed shortly afterwards and soon the message of their shields having collapsed flashed in front of Trotsky's eyes.

"Damn it," Santoz stated as he tried to dodge another missile only for mass accelerator fire to slowly crack the light armor of the vulture, smashing into the cockpit. Trotsky felt the round hit him just below his knee as Santoz kept trying to maintain control over the gunship, a stream of red flowing from his leg and collecting between his feet. He tried to reach for the medigel syringe to his left as another mass accelerator round tore through his forearm. He lost consciousness just in time to not feel the crash.

* * *

 **On the Ground**

"Send it again!" Captain Gavin shouted between bursts of SR-7 fire.

"Sir, our communications array just got busted," a corporal replied as bullets impacted the wall behind them. "No getting through."

Further ahead the man he had sent to grab the child finally appeared from within the bus, making the run of his life with the sole survivor in his arms. Whatever the bus driver had thought when he had decided to drive through the frontline had gotten most of his passengers killed, leaving the unlucky but brave grunt currently charging through a bulletstorm to pick up his pieces.

"Cover him!" Gavin ordered as his remaining men rose from their positions to lay down suppressive fire on the alien hordes appearing behind the man, the swarm of vorcha missing him either through chance, their horrible aim or the workings of a higher power.

"Don't you bloody die," the officer said as he chambered the first round of a fresh magazine into his SR-7, hitting an alien square in the chest just as the soldier ran past him. "Take him to the shelter and then get back here!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Someone take him!" the soldier shouted into the shelter as he practically threw the kid in right before the large blast door shut itself. The soldier tried to turn around and move back into cover but before he could make another step a sniper round connected with his helmet and the man collapsed right in front of the shelter, either dead or severely injured. There was no time to check.

"Damn it!" Gavin shouted as he grew more angry, the empty clicking of his gun causing him to slide back into cover.

"Sir, the eastside is collapsing. Asari and salarians are pushing back the IFV platoons."

"Tell them to withdraw to the city limits, don't let them get into the buildings!"

"Yes, Sir," the corporal lifted his hand towards his helmet but before he could do as he was told a purple light lifted him up and threw him into the blast door. Upon impact the body slumped to the ground and dropped next to the victim of the sniper, his spine twisted. Gavin spun his upper body to the left and recognized the shape of an asari. The figure was still glowing purple and he felt himself becoming heavier and heavier as an eerily feeling crept over him. It took every single drop of determination still inside him to lift his SR-7 just enough to fire of a burst into the leg of the attacker, a purple field shattering before purple blood started to stain the ground in front of her. The asari tripped as her leg gave up on her and Gavin took the opportunity to dispatch the her.

Then he heard the screams of a man to his right as an unfortunate soldier got mauled by a vorcha. Blood was dispersed with every slash as the claws of the creature tore through the softer fabric of the armor's neck, a viscious smile appearing on the alien's face as its sharp claws very nearly seperated the man's head from his body. Gavin aimed at the vorcha and began to fire but after two rounds his rifle clicked empty. Cursing under his breath, he was well aware that his SIS-8 was the only thing still loaded on his body and his left hand went for the pistol as the lightly injured vorcha advanced on him. Rounds left the barrel of the pistol while the vorcha shrugged of the hits to his upper body in a fit fueled by rage and adrenaline. The creature jumped him and Gavin hit the ground, firing until his gun was empty and the vorcha stopped moving, finding his throat unharmed. He lifted the dead vorcha off him, got up and tried to reload only to find a salarian aiming at him. As the mass accelerator rounds smashed into his armor he ignored the pain in his stomach and tackled the tall amphibian towards the ground. Salarians, while quicker, were more frail and not as strong as a trained human soldier so when Gavin forced began forcing his knife down into the eye of the alien, it couldn't resist nearly as long as a turian, batarian or human could've. The blade punctured the salarian's head and and upon pulling it back out, a stream of acid-green liquid shot from the wound. Gavin got up as one of his few remaining soldiers fired a burst out of her rifle to drop another salarian that had rounded the truck behind him. but her victory was short lived however as a krogan smashed the woman to the side, an unnatural cracking sound and the angle of her head betraying her fate.

The krogan looked at Gavin who only had his knife left and a smirk crossed his reptillian face. In spite of that, the human decided to charge him. Gavin didn't really know why it had sounded like a good idea to attack an over two meter tall, incredibly heavy lizard head on and he regretted it the moment the toad smashed his armored head into him. The captain went flying and blood started to obstruct his vision as his nose was broken. He tried to get back up but before he could reach for his knife, the krogan lifted him up to eye level and smirked even more. Behind him Gavin could see the dead remains of his unit and the luckily sealed door of the shelter.

They had done their duty.

"You got a quad human," he laughed, "but you shouldn't have pissed of the Blood Pack. Now you die," the krogan's grip started to tighten around Gavin's neck however his right hand found the single fragmentation grenade still attached to his combat rigging. He primed it and raised it so that the krogan could notice the lack of a safety pin. As the alien snarled in anger, Gavin laughed.

"See you in hell, toad."

The following blast killed both Captain Gavin and Garm, leader of the Blood Pack on Omega, who had insisted on joining the ground assault after Jona Sederis had challenged him.

* * *

 **S** **ixteen Hours Later,** **21\. November 2387 AD,** **Arcturus Station**

The week had already been bad after Cerberus had failed to retrieve the Shadow Broker's data and had only gotten worse when a pushy journalist had tried to sneak into his office.

But all of these events paled in compression to the events of the last thirty hours.

"Ferris Fields, New Canton, Fehl Prime," Suhail Nadim,the minister of defense, explained to Chancellor Noé. "Three planets attacked by Eclipse, several Terminus warlords and the Blood Pack within the last days."

"Casualties?" he muttered.

"Colonial Watch on Ferris Fields lost fifty five percent of its forces but Fehl Prime beat most of the attackers back thanks to a patrol dropping in during the assault. They to blows with an Eclipse cruiser and the Trafalgar got hit during the engagement. The rest of their fleet bugged out as soon as they realised what was coming for them. We disabled and boarded several smaller vessels but the cruiser limped away.

"What about New Canton?"

The minister paused a moment. "New Canton got hit the worst. A large amount of krogan supported the ground assault, and there were hardly any survivors among the garrison. Over fifteen thousand civilians didn't reach the shelters in time due to living in the countryside, they got massacred. Another five thousand died when the Blood Pack managed to breach a shelter and slaughtered everyone inside."

"And across all three worlds?" he braced himself.

"Thirthy eight thousand, Sir." the general of the army said as the minister hesitated.

"Place all forces in the colonies bordering the Terminus on threat condition Shield One," the chancellor ordered. "I want the marines and the navy to start a full mobilization of both active duty personal and reserves. Prepare them for a large scale deployment within the next week," he paused for a moment as he recalled the last time a human world had been subjected to a massacre. "Tell HSAIS to active all of its undercover agents. This is the kind of event the IFS has been waiting for, I want the agents ready to start infiltrating bigger cells at a moment's notice. Garrisions in the Fringe should be prepared to deal with riots as well."

He had been briefed on the capabilities of the Blood Pack and Eclipse, the two forces were dominant crime syndicates within the Terminus Systems and held considerable reach with several other warlords in the region. Eclipse had a sizeable navy and the Blood Pack was known to field hundreds of thousands of expendable shock troops.

"Shield One. Yes, Sir," General Vasquez saluted him and walked out of the room as Admiral Jun and General Stelios left to prepare their branches as well.

"Get me live within the hour."

* * *

 **2129 CE,** **Citadel,** **Office of Councilor Tevos**

"Thank you Agent Vasir," Tevos stated as she received the little blue package. "This will be all."

The Spectre was about to walk out when curiosity got the better of her. She'd really like to know why she had infiltrated an Eclipse freighter and so would the recording device she had hidden inside the office.

"This is it? This is how you want to make the turians hate the humans?" she sounded almost disappointed.

"Oh no, Agent Vasir, this is just beginning," the asari councilor replied. "I will approach you when I require your talents again. Until then, you are dismissed."

For now Tela did as she was told, expecting to find out Tevos' plan in the long run. Passing by the salarian councilor on her way out, she came to a halt in the corridor as she realised just where Vaelan was headed. The long run may already be coming to an end after all. Focusing her senses on a singular noise, she turned on her heels exactly when the second hissing marked the point at which the councilor stepped inside the asari's office. Taking a few steps back, her omni-tool once more connected with the bug she had placed inside Tevos' office.

"What is it that you wish to discuss, Tevos?" the salarian questioned, his voice filled with a mixture of weariness and interest.

"We are both aware that the Turian Hierarchy has taken a liking towards the HSA due to perceiving them as a strong, independent ally," Tevos explained as Tela remembered her own assumption on the councilor's motivations. "And since both of us seem to agree that we can't let that happen, I'd like to let you know that I've set in motion a plan that will destroy their misplaced trust."

"I take it this is linked to the attacks on human worlds?" the salarian spoke up again, a slight shift in his tone suggesting to Vasir that his weariness was shrinking and his interest growing.

"By provoking humanity to attack some of the most established factions in the Terminus system, we'll make them pick a fight that will show the Hierarchy that the humans are not nearly as strong as the turians think they are. Adding to that, we will take steps to destabilize them by giving their separatists something to rally behind."

"Destroying the turian believe of having found an ally that could stand up to the Union or Republics and displaying the already present division and weakness within the HSA. Would improve chances of trade with Salarian Union."

"I just need a little help from STG," Tevos chuckled as a turian C-SEC officer passed by Vasir with his eyes glued to his own omni-tool, paying no further mind to the Spectre's rather suspicious positioning before walking into the office of his superior.

"I will approach Dalatrasses."

"Wouldn't it make a much better impression on them if you were to seize an opportunity like this on your own?" Tevos asked her guest as Tela waited for the salarian to give an answer.

"I have a few contacts I could reach out to," he began, convinced. "This will go flawlessly?"

"Of course, Vaelan. Have a little faith."

That old fool.

Tela walked away, not intending to be spotted.

* * *

 **22\. November 2387 AD, Cronos Station, 'Section 13'**

"Are you thirsty Ms. Sedri?" the sandy haired man in black uniform questioned the blue asari. Her white facial marks were somewhat disrupted by the gash on her left jaw. A wound officially sustained before her capture as far as the report was concerned. Captured during the Eclipse attack on Fehl Prime, the asari had been one of the vessels disabled by an unscheduled patrol. As such he suspected the wound had been the result of an overeager marine looking for vengeance. It would certainly explain why the wound looked almost exactly like the butt of an SR-7. As the asari felt no need to answer Specialist Redford decided to try another approach.

"Do you even know what you got yourself into when you attacked Fehl Prime?" he said as he filled a glass of water. With a little slight of hand he added an odourless liquid that would help him later on, starting a timer on his watch. Now he just had to kill time. "The HSA does not take kindly to terrorists."

Silence.

"I see, you're not a chatty one," Redford shrugged. "Slowly I'm starting to believe women just don't want to talk to me," he chuckled as he set down the glass of water in front of the captured merc and took a sip from it to remove her believe that it might be poisoned. Maybe that was keeping her from quenching her thirst. "I'll ask you again Ms. Sedri, are you thirsty?" he gestured towards the glass on the table.

The Asari, like expected, grabbed the glass and jugged its content down as fast as possible once she was convinced that no harm would come to her.

"I'll be honest Ms. Sedri, you are not in a good spot right now," Redford explained as he sat down opposite to the asari, tipping his chair. "Thirty eight thousand counts of assisted murder? That's a lot. I mean if you're lucky you could actually survive the five centuries in prison that you're looking at, unless," he stressed the last word, "you are willing to cooperate with the HSAIS. I want you to tell me everything you know and maybe we can do something about the sentence."

The mercenary once more remained quiet, most likely a trait acquired while working for the notorious mercenary outfit. The specialist suspected that those who'd talk when captured would be taken care of early in their careers.

Redford got up, walked around the desk and placed one of his hands on the shoulder of the Eclipse merc.

"I'm a nice person Ms. Sedri, I'm not going to hurt you," he paused as he looked at the timer on his watch. Finally. A smile crossed his face. "However you did just drink a truth serum which I've been immunized against. Since I'm quite busy today, I'll just start asking away."

A shocked expression appeared on the asari's face as she turned around to look at him, probably realising that he was in fact not making this up.

"Why did you attack New Canton, Fehl Prime and Ferris Fields?" Redford began.

"Because you mangled with our smuggling business. Fuck with Eclipse, we'll make you pay," she replied after a short struggle with herself, slapping her hands over her mouth in surprise.

"How did we interfere with your smuggling business?"

"You blew up nine of our freighters around Illium!" Sedri explained, her attempts of fighting the serum growing weaker.

"We only blew up one freighter," the specialist corrected her. "We're not going to steal the credit for the other eight. That's not how we do things," the blonde man argued before returning to the matter at hand. "Anyway, why was the Blood Pack involved? Did you pay them to fight for you?"

"Pay the Blood Pack? Never. You torched their Red Sand depots on Omega, they had it out for you just as bad as we." the drugged mercenary answered truthfully.

"Did we now?" he said as he once more sat down on the chair opposite to the asari with white facial marks.

"Yes," the asari couldn't lie at the moment so he took her word at face value. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to blame their anti-mercenary operations on them.

"Interesting," the specialist nodded as he looked at the asari, her expression growing more relaxed as the truth serum unfolded its full potential. "Alright Ms. Sedri, tell me how many ships does Eclipse posses. Specifically how many cruisers?"

"Thirty cruisers, well over two hundred smaller frigates."

"Where is your main base of operation?"

"There is no main base of Eclipse, only de-centralized outposts, bases and ships."

"Which outpost is the biggest one?" Redford pressed on noting the de-centralized nature of Eclipse mirroring salarian and asari doctrine.

"Illium," she confirmed his suspicion, since Illium was a major hub for corporate crime and Eclipse disguised itself as a security outfit. The mostly lawless nature of Illium enabled them to run their shady business from a world with fantastic connections towards Council Space. Of course they'd put their headquarters there.

"How big is the number of security personal your company employs?" Redford folded his hands.

"I only know how many cell members my cell has. As I said, Eclipse is de-centralized."

"How many, Ms. Sedri?"

"My cell numbered at nearly eight hundred members before deployment on Fehl Prime."

"And how many cells make up Eclipse?"

"Hundreds," Sedri replied swiftly.

"Now to the really interesting stuff." Redford stated dryly. "Who gave you the information on HSA patrol schedules, garrison strength and locations of new colonies?"

"Sederis didn't tell us. She just said that her sources could be trusted," the mercenary asari replied as she clutched her head. An unpleasant side effect of the drug causing her to be more honest than she had been in the last century combined.

"Jona Sederis is the leader of Eclipse, correct?"

"Yes."

"Where can we find her?"

"I don't know," the asari said as the headache accompanying the drug fully kicked in. "She travels a lot."

"I believe that will be all for now, Ms. Sedri," Redford got up, left the cell and stepped into the halls of Cronos Station, the headquarters of Section 13 and as of recently Cerberus. He sent his findings to his director and prepared to interrogate the next prisoner, a salarian.

Looking at his watch, he realised that it would be a long night.

* * *

 **27\. November 2387 AD,** **Cronos Station**

Jack Harper leaned back in his chair as he watched the dying star in front of him. Cronos Station had been build around Anadius due to the stars regular solar bursts hiding its, compared to Arcturus, small form from just about any piece of scanning technology in the known galaxy. The white light, mostly filtered by the large glass window in front of him, danced on the black floor around him as he read another report forwarded to him by Section 13's director. After the failure of the mission around Illium, mostly caused by one asari, he had already been expecting that someone would use this information against them. However he hadn't been expecting Eclipse and the Blood Pack to attack them out of the blue. Looking through some of the combat reports, he once more frowned upon seeing what had caused most of their casualties.

He was well aware of the advantage biotics gave to the Council races, an advantage they would be able to hold until the HSA would be ready to start BAaT, Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training. The pieces were already in motion, and the thousands of children who had been exposed to Eezo in the last years were already being tracked. Of course there were adults who had suffered similar exposure before but, at least as far as their research was concerned, biotic potential in humans needed to be harnessed from a young age, otherwise the ability to control the powers associated with it would disappear more with each year. As the science team in charge of this study had concluded, the HSA had missed the last sizeable wave of potential human biotics by a few years already. Now they had to wait and observe the new group.

Reading through the rest of the reports he simultaneously inhaled a breath of smoke, a habit he had revived by spending too much time in close proximity to the chainsmoker that was Chancellor Noé. As he exhaled a small cloud of smoke danced in the light of the dying star. Normally he'd simply enjoy the view but since Chancellor Noé had already given the order for Cerberus to annihilate the smaller Terminus warlords involved in the attack, most likely simply hired guns, he was a rather busy man. Cerberus' strike teams were doing surprisingly well considering the vast majority of these warlords were exiled krogan battlemasters. Of course surprisingly well didn't mean that they were running flawless operation after flawless operation. Harper looked over the list of fallen field operatives and could do nothing but declare them KIA and leave their families wondering just how, when, where and why they met their demise. Fighting in the shadows had this particular disadvantage, no one would ever hear about the sacrifices their unsung guardians took upon themselves in the pursuit of protecting humanity.

One day the deeds of these people would add up to something bigger, something that would be worthy of the things they had done 'in service to mankind'.

He pressed the cigarette into the ash tray and took a drink from the glass, another habit he blamed on Noé.

* * *

 **10\. December 2387 AD, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

Ambassador Goyle stood in front of the three councilors who had summoned her to talk about the ongoing military operations against hostile forces within the Terminus Systems and waited for their reply. The meeting had begun somewhat civil with formal greetings being exchanged but as soon as the salarian had began rambling on about the 'Council Law', as if she wasn't familiar with it by now, Goyle had known that this would be one of the more unpleasant moments she'd been part of in her career.

"Under the law of the Citadel Council an associate or member of the Council cannot engage in armed conflict before seeking the approval of the whole Council, Ambassador Goyle," Vaelan, or as her bodyguard tended to call him, 'lizardy scum bag', sighed while placing the palm of his hand in his face. A sign of frustration that translated through the body language of most humanoid species.

"The HSA is engaging in anti-terrorism operations against Eclipse Security, a self proclaimed security cooperation, and the Blood Pack, a known criminal syndicate. We are not engaged in an armed conflict with another galactic government. How is this different from anti-piracy or anti-slavery operations of the Council?" the ambassador countered. She did know the difference, after all the Blood Pack and Eclipse combined were a far bigger threat than some slaver gang or a pirate outfit.

"Council operations do not include prolonged offensive action in the Terminus Systems, Ms. Goyle. You cannot compare what is basically a full blown war across multiple star systems with military strikes against isolated outposts," Tevos explained with only the slightest hint of anger in her voice. The day Anita managed to break her image as mediator was the day she could die a happy woman.

"That just means that you are not attacking the problem at its core. The Hierarchy had the right idea century ago, only for the Salarian Union to shoot them down," Goyle countered, once more sticking to the 'pro-turian' doctrine she'd been instructed to pursue in her dealings with the Council. "Just because you're not willing to risk a valuable space port in the Terminus doesn't mean that the HSA can't fight its own battle."

"The proposed military intervention against the Terminus Systems was vetoed because the Salarian Union did not wish to engage in a war that could escalate to the scale of the Rachni Wars or the Krogan Rebellions. Just because your kind hasn't seen the devastation such a war can bring, doesn't give you the right to provoce one," the salarian folded his arms, oblivious or knowingly ignorant of the economical reasons that had motivated the veto.

"My 'kind' Councilor Vaelan", she repeated the rhetoric of the salarian, "is well aware of the devastation a war can cause but my kind is also aware that turning a blind eye towards evil and letting terrorist, or as you like to call them 'private security outfits', do what they want is simply too dangerous. Compare the Terminus Systems of today to the Terminus Systems of the time the Hierarchy first wanted to put an end to this. The longer you ignore the problem, the more dangerous it will get," Anita Goyle explained. "The HSA hasn't requested Council aid, therefor we don't feel the need to request your permission to avenge our people. This is our fight, Councilor Vaelan."

"What the HSA feels the need to do and what it has to do are two very different things, Ambassador Goyle," the salarian had now taken charge of talking for the council. "The moment you chose to become an associate member, you agreed to these terms."

"The HSA has an embassy on the Citadel, we are not yet an associate." she reasoned as she exploited the opening Vaelan had just given her. "We have not yet signed the Treaty of Farixen, a treaty every race wishing to join as an associate has to agree to. The final ruling on this subject is still on hold for three years."

As Goyle did her best not to smirk, the realization of the salarian's mistake also became evident on Tevos's face. Ioventus on the other hand remained stoic. Given the fact that human and turian diplomats had discussed this matter before the council had summoned the ambassador, she was certain that a part of him was nearly as happy about his colleague's mistake as she was.

"I believe this means that our anti-terrorism operations can continue?" Goyle stated, only sounding the slightest bit of smug.

"This meeting of the council is adjourned. Should we require you again, we will summon you," Tevos nodded, answering Goyle's question without having to admit that she was right. "Vaelan, a word please."

As Goyle left the chamber she felt somewhat sorry for the councilor. Already an old man by salarian standards he seemed to have lost his edge for just a few seconds, causing a mistake that could jeopardize the authority of the Citadel Council for years to come. Somehow she already knew that the next time she walked into the Council Chambers, another salarian would greet her.

* * *

 **18\. December 2387 AD, Arcturus Station**

"In other news, the salarian representative of the Citadel Council, Councilor Vaelan, has resigned from his position after eighteen years of serving as his race's member of the committee. In his valediction the salarian politican spoke about wanting to spent the eve of his life in a less stressful environment, dedicating time to his grandchildren and private study. However credible sources suggest that Vaelan had recently fallen into the disfavor of the dalatrasses after a private meeting on Sur'Kesh, leading to him being ordered to resign," the voice explained as the salarian was seen walking away from a crowd applauding his final speech. "This has been Christina Kingsley for Alliance News Network."

"Garbage," Alec pressed a button on the remote and the screen turned black. He didn't have to watch this. "He pissed of that bitch Tevos."

"Alec, language!" it sounded from the other room of the apartment he shared with his fiancee. "She can hear you, you know? Set an example."

"Sorry, Hannah," he called back.

Things were good for now.

He just knew that it wouldn't stay like that.

* * *

 _Codex: Human Systems Alliance Army Colonial Watches_

 _Due to an article of the HSA's constitution not allowing armed militias on colonial worlds, the HSA Army began deploying its combat units in garrison duties early on._

 _During the early days of the first human-turian joint exercise, turian field commanders were impressed by the accuracy, discipline and tenacity displayed by these units, having expected humanity to follow the example of most other races which usually relied on volunteer militias or planetary defense forces with subpar training to defend their worlds. Given the responsibility to defend colonial shelters to the last bullet, the last man and the last breath, Colonial Watch assignments are seen as anything but a deadbeat assignment, having turned into one of the most dangerous duties within the army following the Fringe Wars. Dealing with anything ranging from uprisings and anti-terror operations to pirate raids and full-scale invasions, Colonial Watches are expected to stay true to their overarching order to 'hold until relieved', meaning that their commanders are expected not to surrender, even in face of certain death._

 _It should be pointed out that Colonial Watch forces are among the most heavily monitored units within the HSA military ever since the Fringe Wars saw entire battalionsor even regiments turn on their comrades as a result of unchecked IFS sympathies among their ranks._

* * *

 **A/N: So, next chapter. Bit more politics this time. I know I've spent a lot of time in 2387 compared to other years but I needed to set up a form of political intrigue. I hope I didn't fail miserable at it, I'm not exactly good at all of this political betrayal jazz. Hope you still enjoyed it.**

 **Anyway, 134 follows, 98 favs... going strong guys although I'd really like even more reviews! Keep em coming people, let me know what you think! I love to read your opinions!**

 **See you around next time.**

 **Edit: As of 30.7.17 Chapter 6 has been remastered**

 **I cut two smaller, basically unimportant scenes that disrupted the flow of the chapter and fixed some odd instances of phrasings that made it seem like Harper was in charge of both Cerberus and Section 13.**

 **Also fixed the codex because god damn I shouldn't have written that one that late, loads of contradicting shit in it. How come none of you jokers ever pointed that out?**


	7. Opportunism

**Chapter 7. Opportunism**

* * *

 **3\. February 2388 AD,** **Mindoir,** **Killigan's Point**

The light of Mindoir's yellow summer sun was starting to dim as the planet slowly turned away from its star. As with most worlds in the Fringe, the region of space called 'Attican Traverse' by the rest of the galaxy, the streets were deserted. The world had been subjected to a curfew following its participation in the Fringe Wars. The street lights started to turn as they illuminated the paths between a blend of typical colonial prefab buildings and more sophisticated, traditional homes, a mixture typical for worlds that had been settled for a few decades already. The only figures still moving around were either rushing to get home or part of Mindoir's Colonial Watch, who in spite of the status of martial law having been lifted a year ago were still expected to show presence in the colony, at least until the curfew would be ended later this year. The small patrol of five soldiers walked through the narrow street connecting a community center still under construction with a living unit that was soon going to be replaced by a bigger, permanent home and chatted idly. Nothing ever happened on this smaller world of the Fringe besides an angry threat letter or someone throwing a rock into the general direction of a patrol before booking it. Compared to worlds like Shanxi or Elysium, on which riots and firefights were still common place when the yearly Unification Day rolled around, Mindoir was a relaxed assignment. No signs of IFS activity, no violent attacks on HSA soldiers or property and no general resentment in the majority of the population for losing the war. The last serious incident that had occurred on Mindoir happened a year ago when a group of masked criminals had thrown an improvised incendiary device on an armored personal carrier of the Colonial Watch, causing mostly superficial damage to it before fleeing from a very angry crewman.

Ever since then, things had been quiet. For that reason Corporal Ivanov didn't expect to ever see the message which had just appeared in his field of vision. 'Troops in Contact' it flashed on his HUD and once he realised that his squad was looking to him for guidance, he was certain that his gear wasn't malfunctioning. This was actually happening, the moment they had trained for was here. Somewhere in their vicinity armed separatists were going up against an HSA patrol.

"All forces in the area, be advised, insurgents are attacking the local administration complex, reinforce the area immediately. Mindoir Command out," a voice from HQ ordered, causing the corporal to start moving his feet, slow at first but increasingly faster as the faintest echoes of gunfire echoed through the streets of the rural town.

"You heard the man, move it people. Double time," he shouted behind him as he realised that his squad hadn't reacted yet. Shortly after he gave the order, an explosion rocked his part of town and multiple detonations became audible in the distance, smoke rising to cloud the orange evening sky above the forests surrounding the town.

"All patrols be advised, multiple attacks occurring around Killigan's Point. Prepare to be diverted," HQ informed him as he took a turn around a corner, very nearly running into a confused looking drunkard.

"What are you waiting for, get inside," the corporal snarled as he tossed the man towards the closets door he could see, the short break allowing his squad to catch up to him.

His platoon had been split up to patrol a silent part of the town, to reassure the people that the HSA was still there and to place doubt in anyone that questioned their strength. As his Lieutenant gave the order to rally back to his position and wait for further orders as a unit, he used his left arm to signal the squad to come to a halt until he had figured out just where that position was. After a quick look at the map inside his HUD, the team started to jog towards the designated area, the sirens of first responders came to live in the distance, which was ironically a good sign considering that first responders would only supposed to move into an area once hostiles had been removed from it. The five soldiers were starting to close in on the position as they moved through a narrow alley way until gun fire erupted further ahead, causing them to come to a halt. Corporal Ivanov slowly crept alongside the wall of one of the two buildings the alleyway divided until he could peak around its corner to assess the situation. On the one side people were creating a noise very familiar to Ivanov, the sound of several SR-7s being fired tearing through the air from inside the several story building which was supposed to bring the people Killigan's Point together, red muzzle flashes appearing in the windows when a rifle began to fire and tracers jumping towards the enemy position across the street.

The other side however wasn't firing with older models or stolen SR-7. Their weapons sounded and looked different. There was no sound of combustion, no red muzzle flashes from their rifles. Instead small blue dots lit up as the corporal slid into cover behind a parked vehicle, waving his squad towards him as the fight for the community center, their rally point, raged on around him. His four comrades took positions around him and he peaked around the front of the colonial vehicle again, finding the situation nearly identical to before. From within the center his HUD pinged friendlies and the sight of several light machine guns firing from the windows confirmed that. The tracers of the group were jumping off the edge of a living unit across the plaza and Ivanov took aim as a figure rose on its roof, blue flashes appearing from something in its hand. His round smashed into the target but for some reason the figure didn't immediately drop dead as the rounds connected with its chest. Instead it dropped back down to cover as Ivanov himself mirrored the move. Instantly regretting to go for a precise shot instead of a precise burst he stared at the woman next to him with a confused expression below his visor.

"What the hell was that?" he questioned as the designated marksman of his unit shrugged after her DMR-7 had failed to kill its target on the roof of yet another living prefab, small pieces of metal shaved off of the vehicle's roof flying over their heads as their foes decided to retaliate.

"They got kinetic barriers," she offered, "at least I think so," she added quickly.

"Now that's just great," he stated as he shuffled along the car to switch his position in an attempt to avoid being hit. Now sitting at the back of the vehicle he once more trained his rifle on the roof, his designated marksman on her shoulder while nodding into the general direction they had previously been shot at from. She understood his intention as she too turned her attention towards the edge, waiting for their foe o appear. When a figure once more rose up to fire at the community center, both of them began shooting, first his SR-7 overwhelmed the barriers and then a DMR-7 bullet dropped the target, a spray of blood shooting out of the insurgent as he tumbled over the edge he had used as cover and fell off the roof, landing on the street below with a presumably nasty but inaudible crunch.

Another appeared from within the building and started to drag his comrade into cover when a burst of orange light penetrated the shadowy corner. Below a rather advanced set of armor, the figure was dressed like a normal civilian and while strange already, another detail caught Ivanov's attention, a detail he didn't believe to ever see on Mindoir again. On his left arm he wore a red band with a white heptagon stitched onto it. He was about to shoot the insurgent when he turned his head towards him, his hand reaching for something on his hip as he grabbed dragging his fallen comrade to safety. Before Ivanov could perfectly steady his aim, pistol fire began to pour down on his position, originating from the man that had caught his attention.

"Fucking Iffys," he cursed as he returned fire, the barriers of the figure flaring up as his rounds hit them. "Those are fucking Iffys!" he shouted at his team as one of its member dropped to the ground when a round graced his helmet. As the man didn't get up, a glance at his HUD informed the corporal that his vitals were still present. If they survived this, the guy would wake up with the worst headache of his life. The gunfire from the community building started to build up as more fire teams arrived from positions more favourable than theirs and in turn the fire of the insurgents started to die down once they began to withdrew in orderly fashion, something Ivanov halfway expected them to do, Iffys were a lot of things, sadly experienced was one of them. He distinctively heard the sound of cars driving off as the group they had engaged most likely took a page out the IFS strategy on Elysium, blending into the civilian populace after hiding their gear or vanishing in the unclaimed wild of the colony to hide from the eyes of the HSA.

* * *

 **4\. February 2388 AD, Arcturus Station**

The projection of the white heptagon on a red flag illuminated the room as no one dared to speak up while Noé stared at it. He pressed a button and the next image displayed the combat helmet of the HSA Army with a human skull on it. A small text below it reinforced the idea.

"'Humanity's future under the HSA'," he read,"where the hell do they get the resources to put these up all across our colonies? Do they own a printing company or what?" Noé stated aggravated. "And someone care to tell me how hundreds of mass accelerators were smuggled on our worlds?" he questioned. "Eclipse or Blood Pack?"

"Most likely," the HSAIS representative said. "Current evidence suggests that smaller drop pods were disguised among meteor impacts common in the wildlands of these colony worlds."

The projection shifted to display the theory, small metal boxes, their insides shielded by kinetic barriers and mass effect technology, hidden within meteor-like constructs impacting on the surface of Mindoir, Elysium, Shanxi and other worlds with known to still harbour sympathies for the separatist movement.

"This was a message, not an actual military operation," the HSAIS director stated. "They had the moment of surprise and the resources yet they didn't even kill a hundred people. They just blew up empty buildings and engaged in small fire fights with local forces." he explained.

"They want to let the people know that they are still around and that their message is all the more relevant now," Noé completed with a sigh before running a hand through his dark hair. "They are going to use the Eclipse and Blood Pack attacks to go back to how things were before the Fringe Wars. Reclaim their image as the righteous defenders of the common Fringe colonist."

"And if the riots on Shanxi are anything to go by, they are doing one hell of a job," the director added as a projection displayed a large crowd facing HSA soldiers in riot gear. Red flags with heptagons danced in the wind as chants to topple the 'Oppressive HSA Regime' echoed through the streets of Elysium's capital New Illyria. When a protestors threw a brick into the military formation, an Hammerhead APC modified for crowd control started to spray water into their ranks to break up the violent protestors. Soon after both the crowd and the formation clashed and a brawl ensued which ended with mass arrests and injuries on both sides.

"They want us to fight among ourselves to take away pressure from their Terminus operations," Admiral Jun guessed. It made sense considering that HSA forces had been destroying smaller outposts and hunting down Eclipse cells and Blood Pack gangs ever since their attacks on three human colonies in late 2387. The mercenary outfits had been forced to fight an asymmetrical war with the HSA as its naval supremacy and the effectiveness of carrier tactics proofed to much too handle for the naval forces of the organizations.

"I had one war among humans in my time as chancellor. I won't allow another," Noé said as he got up from his chair, the blue light of the projector in the middle of the room engulfing him as he walked towards it. "I want Eclipse out of the picture as fast as possible. When they are done for, I want the Blood Pack wiped out to the last vorcha crook in the slums of Omega. I will not allow another civil war and I will not allow it to be caused by two glorified crime syndicates."

The room stayed silent as Noé's word intimidated everyone in it until a set of blue, artificial eyes looked at him from the dark corner of the room.

"Neither will I."

* * *

 **2130 CE** **, Citadel,** **Office of Councilor Tevos**

"That will be all Agent Vuzak," the new salarian councilor said as he closed the line, dismissing the other salarian that had previously worked for Vaelan.

"It would seem that the plan I and your predecessor designed worked, Councilor Idril." Tevos said to the salarian as his red hand pulled down his hood.

"That it did. STG reports that humanity seems to blame the recent support of insurgent cells on Eclipse," Councilor Idril, who had been appointed to succeed the disgraced Vaelan, agreed. "It would seem that there was a use for the ancient weapons and barriers my predecessor originally intended to sell these upstarts after all," the salarian reasoned.

"Now that the HSA is fighting a war with the Terminus and stand on the verge of civil war, the Turian Hierarchy should reconsider its image of humanity." Tevos agreed, satisfied to finally be working with a competent salarian.

"If you don't mind me asking, besides getting the turians back into line, what's in it for the Asari Republics?" the red coloured salarian questioned his new colleague. "I believe I've earned some insight for going along with this."

"Indeed and you will have it in due time, Idril. But until then, I'd rather ask you to have a little faith in the asari. Everything will be revealed in due time, my friend," Tevos said with her famous mediator tone, hoping to sway the new councilor further into her direction.

The salarian seemed to consider the situation for a moment but chose not to push the purple figure across of him for an answer she wasn't ready to give just yet.

"You shall have it," Idril answered before he simply walked out of the door, leaving Tevos alone in her office. She suspected however that the moment he was out of sight he'd order STG to trail Tevos's every move until he was let in on the whole picture. Politics on the Council had always been a two sided sword, peace and unity on the one side and deception and mistrust on the other. She had played this game far longer than either of her colleagues and if her future plans would be as successful as this one, she'd be playing it for even longer.

The matriarch sat down in her chair, throwing a glimpse at the work still waiting for her on her terminal and decided to dive into it. After all, her next visitor wasn't due for another hour.

* * *

 **14\. March 2388 AD, Tarith, Blood Pack Mining Base**

The 40mm cannon of his Paladin ripped apart another vorcha and he shifted his attention towards a krogan that had just charged into a fire team of marines. With a precise shot a single armor piercing slug decapitated the creature and Outlaw 1-4, or as people usually called him Warrant Officer Takahashi, twisted the upper body of his Paladin to face the main entrance to the prefabricated mining building. The two story processing unit normally would've helped the Blood Pack generate credits for their drug trade,but now it only served them as shelter as the Paladins of the 91st Mechanized Support Company laid waste to it. The whole company, five platoons of four Paladins each, had been attached to the 3rd HSAMC Expeditionary Force as they crusaded through the Terminus Systems, attacking and destroying enemy strongholds as they encountered them. Tarith was one of the major Blood Pack mining hubs, supplying rare earths and chemicals for the crime syndicate, in spite of the chlorine that covered the world and as such had been named a priority target for the formation. After a rather short lived space engagement, His platoon, Outlaw, had made Planetfall from the HSASV Hannibal Barca with some 400 marines two hours ago and ever since had closed in on the main processing unit of the mining base, located west of the actual mining shaft.

Fighting the Blood Pack was a task that usually required Paladin support due to the average krogan member of the Blood Pack not only being tougher than most other foes but also wearing armor able to shrug of a full magazine of SR-7 rounds. This meant that the heavier, more impactful weapons of the Paladins had been a blessing for the smaller marines as they dealt with the much more agile and numerous but not nearly as armored vorcha. The battalion sized human force had suffered twelve KIAs and 22 wounded since the attack, most of which happened when a biotic krogan charged into a platoon and smashed a hammer into the ground. The weapon had generated a mass effect field and in one blast wiped out the majority of people standing around it, making the ones not as close to it easy prey for the battlemaster. The krogan had only been stopped when he had tried to lift the very Paladin he was currently sitting in with his biotics only for it to stomp him into the ground and reduce him to an orange stain on the rock. Takahashi didn't look forward to cleaning that mess up as soon as they were done here but it had been the better alternative.

Further ahead four vorcha rose from their cover as instructed by their krogan superior and opened fire on Takahashi with their rocket launchers and mass accelerators. The rounds impacted on his shield but Takahashi simply fired a fragmentation round from the mortar attached to the back of his mechanized assault platform and the group was torn apart before they could do any real damage, much of which was owned to the horrible accuracy of their custom weapons but also to the superior protection the Paladin enjoyed. Spotting more vorcha moving through the fog and realising that there were no more krogan in the area, he decided to exchange the armor-piercing ammunition currently loaded into his cannon in favour of high-explosive-incendiary rounds, a type of projectile that was far more effective against swarms of vorcha. The 40mm rounds began to impact near the group he was targeting and unleashed their destructive potential upon impact, either burning or simply erasing the unfortunate mercenaries they hit.

"All Outlaw call signs, divert towards the mining shaft. Hostile elements are coming out of the tunnels," the ground commander ordered and four Paladins started to leave the fight in front of the processing unit to commit their weaponry to the attack, providing support as long as they could before leaving the rest of the fight to the infantry.

Takahashi moved his Paladin through the forest street situated between the processing unit and the mining shaft and his HUD was started to outline allied infantry further ahead, making them visible in the otherwise thick green chlorine fog that covered Tarith's surface. They were already engaging the enemies streaming out of the building leading to the circular hole in the ground. The mercenaries had most likely decided to forgo their duty of guarding the poor souls condemned to working for the Blood Pack's profit in order to join the fight on the surface which was quickly tipping into human favour as more forces were deployed from the Hannibal Barca. His Paladin finally caught sight of a worthy target, a krogan currently firing a heavy machine gun into the position of a fire team, and lifted his 40mm rifle, its cross hairs coming to a stop on the reptile's head. The projectile left the weapon and even before the ejected shell touched the ground the upper body of the mercenary exploded as the force of the round connected with his head, burning pieces of armor, bone and flesh flying into all directions upon its detonation. As he witnessed the mess, the pilot realised that he had in fact forgotten to once more load his weapon with the less violent armor-piercing rounds and did so after a moment of admiring the result of his mistake. Takahashi moved his Paladin closer to the entrance and fired another round at a krogan who had just shot a marine with his oversized shotgun. The weapon not only had sent the human flying backwards but if the bloody trail leading from his former position to his now unmoving body was any indication had also killed him. His murdered was faced with quick justice as the 40mm round tore him into two pieces, his upper body flying upwards as the remainder of his lower half fell over, an orange pool forming around it.

"Outlaw-Lead, why don't we just collapse the shaft and burry them alive?" Takahashi suggested as he exchanged the ammo drum of his weapon with one once more loaded with explosive ammunition, attaching the mostly filled cannister to the left side of his Paladin for now. He trained the 40mm gun on the entrance as he waited for a reply, the mechanical finger of his Paladin already brushing against his trigger.

"Outlaw 1-4, civilians could still in the mining shaft," the other Paladin pilot replied, "don't compromise its structural integrity, our forces are moving inside."

Takahashi sighted and shifted his aim towards a group of mercenaries instead, tearing them apart with two shots, fire and shrapnel doing exactly what they were designed to do, kill. As he took care of another group of vorcha, his HUD informed him that marines were now entering the tunnel network to clear out any remaining enemies within them. After a moment of feeling sorry for any grunt that would have to engage a vorcha or krogan at that range, he returned to his assignment, spotting a small truck most certainly filled with Blood Pack forces heading his way.

"No you don't," he chuckled before the recoil of his mortar shook through the Paladin.

* * *

 **In the Mining base**

Sergeant Lewis dropped his rifle as they entered the empty room within the tunnel network. The rest of his squad shuffled into the small area behind him and he immediately noticed the locked door in the left corner of the room. The room itself looked like it had served as an improvised barrack for krogan troops, at least the size of the beds and the abandoned armor in the corner suggested as much but whoever was supposed to live here had either fled the scene or died outside.

"Martinez, get the door," he ordered as the engineer slung his SR-7 to his back and walked towards the control panel next to the door. He removed the protective case over its curcuits and began to work, sparks flying through the air as he hotwired the locking mechanism.

Fighting in the mining building had been rather tough on the marines since the close quarters favoured the krogan and vorchas' preference for submachine guns and shotguns. They had already taken some casualties but at least the chlorine fog wasn't present on the inside, which meant that any suit breach a marine suffered in the tunnels wouldn't be made worse by the toxic gas. Looking towards the engineer, he noticed his progress and gave a single hand sign to the rest of his men. Theunit placed themselves to breach into the next room as gun shots once more came to life deeper in the tunnel, the rest of their platoon moving on to kill any remaining vorcha or krogan. Unlike salarians or asari, it wasn't deemed necessary to offer them a chance of surrender anymore since both races always fought to the last and the Blood Pack itself had indoctrinated them to die before surrendering themselves to a foe. A trait common in krogan and vorcha society. In addition to that, past attempts of accepting Blood Pack surrenders had lead to unnecessary casualties as neither society had problems with fightign dirty.

"Got it," the engineer stated as he hotwired the lock of the door, the red hologram in front of its white metal turning green as the mechanism holding it closed was overwritten. The engineer pressed another button on the control panel and the door started to move to the side at a slower than usual speed. His unit entered the room fast yet still precise and any officer would've been proud of the execution. Every corner was covered, the point man immediately cleared the fatal funnel and the remaining marines followed him instantly, ready to fight. However no resistance was encountered. Instead the team leader now stood on a platform overlooking a much bigger room filled with various kinds of aliens locked into grossly overcrowded cells. The inhabitants of the cell next to the door all flinched away from the people who had just appeared above, probably fearing what they'd do now.

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is," the marine next to him said as he lowered his rifle and stared at a cell filled with asari.

Just now the real scale of the hall, or rather modified cave, became evident. Dozens, if not hundreds of people were being held in the makeshift prison, the dead and the sleeping side by side in some cases.

"I get the feeling that this isn't just a mining base," CorporalMartinez stated as he too lowered his rifle in an attempt to seem non threatening.

"Lieutenant Decker. We found some sort of prison," he swallowed before continuing to inform his platoon leader. "We're gonna need a lot of corpsmen down here. Over."

"I'm on my way to your position," the man on the other line stated. "I'll be there in two mikes. Over."

"Hurry up, Sir," the sergeant replied. "You gotta see this."

"Lieutenant Decker," another squad leader radioed in over the platoon intercom just as the officer arrived at Lewis' find. "We've found another prison," a pause, Lewis could guess why. "God there's hundreds of them down here."

Then his HUD lit up with similar reports from the processing building and the main barracks located a couple of kilometers away from the mining base.

"We're gonna need a whole lot more than just corpsmen, Sergeant Lewism" Martinez said as he removed his helmet and leaned on the railing of the platform. "Holy shit."

* * *

 **Three hours later, Orbit around Tarith, HSASV Hannibal Barca**

"The support vessels are reporting that they'll arrive in twenty minutes, they just need one more relay jump. They are coming straight from CBG Benjamin Davis," the communications officer informed Captain Patil.

The Hannibal Barca and her escorts had been sent to Tarith to disrupt the Blood Pack mining operation on its surface, which had been a success. They had destroyed several frigates and a dozen corvettes without sustaining as much as a hull breach, the debris of that battle still floating around in front of their fleet, before launching a very effective ground assault against a sizeable force of mercenaries. In spite of the hostile terrain and the number of enemies facing them, they had suffered little casualties and made swift progress. All signs had pointed towards a textbook operation.

Then they had to deal with a humanitarian crisis, something the warfleet wasn't equipped for. As findings across the installation on Tarith had confirmed, the mining base was just a cover up for a much larger trafficking operation of the Blood Pack. Intelligence gathered by experts on the surface had confirmed that the mining operation was just a front for the Blood Pack to sell captured colonists from independent colonies within the Terminus Systems to buyers all across the galaxy. While it wasn't a secret that the group took part in the slave trade, the ingenuity with which they did so had surprised the captain. She hadn't expected the Blood Pack to be smart enough to utilize Tarith's naturally occurring toxic fog to its advantage.

"So just how many prisoners did we liberate?" the indian captain of the Hannibal Barca asked.

"We've counted 2161 individual captives up to now, however scans suggest that there are more holding areas across the surface," the officer in charge of this particular aspect informed her.

"Have the scans indicated activity anywhere else on Tarith?" Captain Patil questioned her staff.

"Negative, the Blood Pack files confirm it as well. Nothing down there besides chlorine fog and the mining base."

From a pragmatic point of view it made sense to keep their prisoners on Tarith. Without hazmat gear any prisoner would succumb to the chlorine produced by the plants of the swamp world should they decide to make a run for it. The Blood Pack however could safely travel across the planets surface due to either being resistant to the toxic fog like the krogan or, in the vorcha's case, having adapted to it.

"Any remaining resistance on the ground?" Captain Patil asked as she walked across the bridge of the assault carrier.

"Negative, the last pocket around the barracks was annihilated by the 91st MSC a couple of minutes ago."

"Alright. Once the support vessels make it here I want provisional landing zones established around the mining base, processing unit and main barracks. Transporting them off Tarith is going to be a pain in the ass but we're still going to do it." Captain Palit looked out of the window of the bridge as Kodiaks flew past it on their way towards the surface, their green hulls growing smaller until they vanished in the distance.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

 **2\. April 2388 AD, Illium, Nos Astra**

The hot, humid air of Illium's spring morning was a nice change to the dry, climatically controlled living quarters of Cronos Station he had spent the last few months in. He took another sip of the hot asari beverage which was a bit too sweet for his own taste and sat down the weird looking tube used for drinks all over Council space before looking at his wrist watch. The digital numbers informed him that the person he was supposed to meet here was, as he had expected, taking his time, most likely in an attempt to make him nervous. Playing the role of a Hahne-Kedar representative secretly aligned with the IFS meant he actually had to seem somewhat nervous so he wouldn't cause any suspicion so the man put up his best jumpy businessman impression. Specialist Redford's orders were simple, meet up with the salarian Eclipse captain responsible for the attack on Ferris Fields under the guise of being interested in hiring Eclipse to smuggle mass accelerator weapons to a human colony. Not only would this serve as a way to confirm Eclipse's involvement with the recent uprisings in the Fringe but it would also give him the opportunity to cross off the name 'Naemon Mahe' of the HSA's most wanted list. A nice package deal really.

He already heard the steps of four armored figures walking up behind him before the salarian even announced their presence, however playing his role meant he couldn't actually turn around just yet. After all a normal businessman wouldn't have the honed senses and instincts Redford possessed after a decade of working for Section 13.

"Mr. Bradford?" the high pitched voice of the salarian questioned.

Faking surprise he turned around and got up. "Yes that's me," he said placing the right amount of anxiety in his voice. "You are Captain Mahe?"

"Indeed I am. There is no need to be alarmed, given the current situation Eclipse is in, I am certain you understand why I brought guards." the salarian said as the three other figures, if their horned helmets were any indication also salarians, started to spread out around the offside platform. "Now we'll have to search you for our own safety. I'm sure you understand?"

"Of course I understand, please go ahead," the specialist agreed and soon after one of the guards ran a metal detection scan on him just like he had expected it would happen. However the scan failed to detect what weaponry Redford was actually carrying due to its non-metallic nature. Classic mistake.

"He's clear, Sir," the salarian 'confirmed' what he wanted them to think.

"Alright, then straight to business. I've been informed you're interested in hiring Eclipse for an assignment, yes?"

"Yes, I'd like to buy the service of your company," Redford said as he began to work on his strategy. The first merc was carrying a salarian made pistol, easily accessible for Redford. He'd stab the small ceramic blade he had hidden in his sleve into the neck of the amphibian, grab the pistol and shoot merc number two. This salarian looked somewhat bigger than the others but had his back turned towards the group since he was watching the entrance to the platform which meant that he'd be the slowest to react due to having to turn around. The third merc was easy prey for Redford as well. He was standing close to the edge of the platform, looking at the skycars flying by. A simple push would take care of him due to the fact that salarians, at least as far as Redford was aware, were unable to fly. He didn't blame them for only keeping two pairs of eyes on him, after all he was rather confident in the fact that he was playing his role perfectly but it would still cost them. Finally he got to his main target,Captain Mahe. Redford would spill the beverage in front of him into the big eyes of the salarian and blind him before executing the rest of his plan. Once he was done with his escort, he'd throw him off the ridge. The fall would leave little to no evidence and have the advantage of removing the disgusting person in front of him for good.

But for now Redford had to play along.

"Are you aware that certain groups within the HSA are not content with living under their rules?" he questioned.

"So I've heard Mr. Bradford," the captain replied.

"And as you've mentioned, Eclipse is having quite the problem with the HSA at the moment."

"That is true as well," the salarian confirmed. "I suspect you are part of such a group?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "Which is why I'd like for your company to smuggle weapons on a human colony world and enable a large scale attack against the government there," Redford went. "You may have heard of similar attacks that have happened in the last few weeks and I'd like to keep the spark going. It's time for change, change as far as I've heard Eclipse has already enabled on a few worlds by themselves."

"Then you've heard wrong, Mr. Bradford." the salarian sighed. "I'm sorry to inform you but Eclipse won't take your contract. We can't risk our space assets like that," he explained as he brought up his omni-tool. "Get into contact with our administration and we'll grant you a refund. It's corporate policy," the captain explained.

This caught Redford offguard. Eclipse had been confirmed to be involved in the uprisings as a supplier. Everything matched up. There were even recordings of salarian Eclipse mercs showing Iffys how to handle their new toys.

Unless...

The gears started to turn in Redford's head and he stopped them immediately. For now he had taken care of his actual assignment, not speculate on a galactic conspiracy.

As Mahe was about to get up Redford smashed the bottle into his face and the hot liquid burned his large eyes, pieces of glass getting stuck in them as well. The specialist didn't waste any time as the other mercs began to turn around after hearing the sound of glass breaking. He got up and twisted his upper body, jamming the hidden ceramic blade into the neck of the pistol carrying salarian behind him in a fluid motion. With a nearly superhuman speed he ripped it out in a spray of green blood, his one hand reaching around the dying salarian's neck and his other grabbing his pistol before he fired several rounds into the merc further to his left who had previously guarded the door. The alien dropped to the ground as rounds tore through his face all the while the specialist used his deceased ally as a shield against the fire of the salarian leaning on the railing. He fired off the last rounds in the pistol before the gun overheated and threw it into the face of the last uninjured salarian. Stunned by the simple move, Redford managed to close the gap between and with a single push the merc went on his way to the kilometer long drop to the surface of Nos Astra.

He walked back to the now green stained table Captain Mahe was still lying on and grabbed a hold of the salarian who grunted in response. Redford dragged the injured criminal to the railing and lifted him over it just far enough so he'd be able feel the drop ahead of him.

"If it wasn't Eclipse, who armed the Iffys?" he said as he shook the salarian and jammed the blade into his shoulder, an act that further stained the suit he was wearing with acid-green blood.

"Even if I'd know, I wouldn't tell you," Redford twisted the blade in an attempt to gain another answer but only received a painful snarl. "Go to whatever hell you believe in, human."

"See you there, until then, have a nice flight, buddy," Redford withdrew the blade and let go of the salarian causing another green stain on Nos Astra's surface to go into the making.

He disappeared from the scene of the massacre without ever being questioned about the green blood stains on his suit. Apparently it was true that no one on Illium cared about things like that as long as they weren't harmed by it directly. When the first sirens finally echoed through the plaza, he was long gone.

* * *

 **2130 CE, Palaven, Base Camp of the 22nd Palavani Legion**

"Cabal Arterius!" the flanging voice of Kabalim Vitallion shouted. "You've been practicing without my permission? First the physical test and now this. Did you desert from Blackwatch just to join our little group here?"

"No, Kabalim Vitallion!" Saren replied in a sharp tone as both looked at the perfect accuracy test that had just taken place on the firing range of the camp. As it was common practice, every turian soldier had to proof that they were accurate with their Phaeston rifle every 10 standard months. Now it was the turn for Saren's cabal squad to display their accuracy. Usually soldiers scored around 60 percent of the points on the test with cabals being expected to score over 75.

"That was impressive shooting. Looks like those exercises really paid off for you," the Kabalim stated as Saren kept staring at the perfect 100 percent and new record time for said score being displayed next to the target he had just fired at. "Get back to the group, cabal," his NCO finally ordered.

"Next!" his commander shouted as Saren flicked on the safety of his Phaeston and went back to the rest of his unit, once more sitting down next to Kandros.

"By the spirits Saren," the older turian chuckled. "Stop making me look so bad."

"It's not my fault that you're an old man Bassilo," Saren replied as he rested his Phaeston between his legs.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone go through these tests without looking a bit winded. You're not even a little bit exhausted?"

"No, in fact I feel like I could run the physical all over again and do even better than before," Saren replied, in his mind equally confused at not feeling the strain of the physical test which had included a forced march notorious for taking out a lot of energy from even the best soldiers. Saren had completed it in record time, effectively beating the record of the 22nd Palavani Legion by over ten standard minutes. Said record had been set by a soldier over forty years ago, a soldier who had later been accepted into the Blackwatch. While the humorous arrogance he had just displayed towards his comrades would probably hide his own surprise, he was more than curious just what sat him apart from the others.

"The Kabalim is right, you know?" Bassilo said. "You could easily make selection, why not try out? Blackwatch doesn't care if you're biotic."

"I'm happy with what I have here. The squad is great, Kabalim Vitallion is tough but he's dedicated leader and for the first time I feel like I belong somewhere," Saren shrugged. "In my family I was the youngest, in boot camp I was the bareface," he went on as he took in the sight of the noon sun of Palaven dancing across the surface of their trucks. "Here I'm just Cabal Arterius."

Bassilo chose not to push the younger turian any further. He could probably relate after all. Cabals tended to be outcasts in the turian society.

"How is it that you're being embarrassed by a 17 year old kid, Cabal Hepsus?" the voice of Kabalim Vitallion echoed across the firing range as the soldier who had just taken the test had 'only' scored a 82. "Do I need to call Cabal Arterius over here so he can show you how to hold your Phaeston? Next!"

Saren smirked as the cabal walked towards him silently mimicking their superior's speech.

"I think you did great Hepsus. Those bushes had it coming," Saren said as he made room for the other older turian.

"There could've been a batarian behind them so I made sure, but Kabalim Vitallion is still going to make me run until I puke my lunch out after this," Hepsus chuckled as his mandibles. "Unless I'll impress him on the technical test."

"Hepsus you have a hard time rebooting your omni-tool," Bassilo laughed. "Don't get your hopes up."

This comment caused the turian leaning against the tree behind Saren and the two turians next to him to laugh as another candidate finished his test and was screamed at by Vitallion due to not living up to Saren's result.

"Spirits be damned. How did you do it Arterius? How did you actually please Vitallion?" the next cabal questioned as he walked up to the shadow in which the group was sitting to escape the heat of Palaven's sun. The turians might have evolved on this world but that didn't mean that they had to expose themselves to its heat if there was shade available.

"I didn't just please him, I impressed him," Saren said in a jokingly smug tone causing the arriving turian to smirk as well.

"Sent us a message when you're Primarch," he joked. "Maybe a letter for Hepsus so he can actually read it without selling his house while trying to open the message."

Once more laughter sounded across the range and even Hepsus joined in as the good mood infected him. When the last member of the unit had finished the accuracy test they mounted up on their trucks and began the drive back to the base where they'd take the technical competence test with their omni-tools and afterwards complete a biotic power test. Saren wasn't worried about either of these tests and as it turned out he had no reason to be either. The technical test turned out to be a walk in the park for him as he scored another 100 percent without actually trying all too hard to answer the questions or solve the problems presented to him. He had always had an affinity for omni-tools after all.

The biotic test however turned out to be surprising, even more so than the accuracy test. After completing the regular exercises, every cabal was tested for their raw biotic potential and compared to the average score of turian biotics and the power of other species. Turian's usually scored rather low with krogan and asari biotics overshadowing them in comparison and either way, the main purpose of the test was to figure out if they could still endure the strain biotic activity put on their bodies. It wasn't as much of a competition as it was an inspection.

As such when Saren clocked in at almost the same power of an asari maiden in military training, while not impressive by asari standards, his mandibles simply dropped in surprise, a quick shake of his head confirming that he was in fact not dreaming.

"Run it again." the medical officer in charge of the examination said. "This can't be right."

He agreed with that assessment and as such Saren's biotics once more flared to life and pushing himself to his absolute limit. The purple light engulfed him as the Element Zero in his system started to manifest itself and he felt his breath grow faster with each passing second.

"Same readings, Sir," the assistant helping with the test stated as she looked at the screens equally confused.

"By the spirits, are you sure you're turian, Cabal Arterius?"

Saren could offer nothing but a slightly confused 'yes' to the question. He was beyond speechless.

"Glad you're on our side," the assistant said as she removed the device used to collect the readings. "Don't forget to pick up the extra ration on the way out. Don't want you to collapse after that display," she smiled at him.

"I wouldn't mind falling for you though," Saren replied innocently as he got up from the table, remembering a talk he had had with Hepsus some days ago.

The assistant obviously caught the hint and while the medical officer was still distracted with completing the report she decided to take the bait.

"If you're feeling a bit light headed, maybe we should schedule a more in depth, private examination in my quarters."

"Now that you mention it I've been experiencing a certain stiffness in my body recently," Saren smirked before rolling his shoulders. "I'm a bit tensed up from the physical test as things are."

"Oh, we'll have to take care of that, can't have you get injured now, can we?" his omni-tool lit up as it received a new contact.

When he entered the barracks as the last member of his cabal unit, he delivered a report, confirming that Hepsus's idea actually worked in the process. The soldiers, for the most part simply accepting the results of his tests, turned out to be far more interested in the later and the turian who had previously only barely passed his technical competence test simply shrugged from his bed.

"I told you it would work," he said as one of his fingers pointed at the ceiling.

"Yes, but I didn't think it would actually work," the younger turian admitted.

"Spirits, I'd say he read that up on the extranet but we all know how his last venture there turned out," Bassilo threw in. "Speaking of, do you still have those five lawn mowers you bought by accident? I could use one, my old one broke."

"Very funny," the other turian began. "Well, now you know better, Arterius. Sometimes I do know what I'm talking about."

"No, you don't. Like during your technical competence test, you just happend to guess the right answer for once," a third cabal offered, causing Saren to chuckle as he lay down in his own bunk.

* * *

 _Codex: Fringe Wars 2376-2377_

 _The 'Fringe Wars', a series of armed rebellions beginning on several estranged HSA colonies, started when militias trained by the IFS managed to seize several HSA warships, among them four cruisers, awaiting retrofits in the space ports of seven planets within the Fringe. After boarding the space ports with stolen freighters and killing the armed personal onboard, the separatists took control of the vessels and through their own knowledge, VI assistance and captured maintenance personal on site managed to finish the rearmament of the vessels before moving the ships into orbit._

 _Having secured a naval force for themselves, the separatists began a combined ground and orbital assault against the Colonial Watches of the seven planets, annihilating them with the support of the stolen vessels. Their defeat caused the planets to swear their allegiance to the IFS as the group demonstrated its status as a rival capable of not only inflicting damage to the HSA but also being willing to representjust the Fringe Worlds. The stolen ship vanished into uncharted territory shortly after and the IFS began to fortify their seven worlds, the 'Separatist Seven' included Shanxi, Camelot, Port Bigby, Horizon, Mindoir, Ulysses and Amaterasu._

 _The revelation that the HSA could be beaten led to massive riots on Elysium, a world unsatisfied with HSA rule for nearly a century. Shortly after the violent disbandment of one such riot, a bloody civil war between the IFS supporters and the HSA Colonial Watch which held orbital supremacy began. The Elysium War, which would wage on until the very end of the Fringe Wars in 2381, turned into one of the bloodiest sites of the conflict as local insurgents withdrew into the civilian population between their raids on HSA assets. The unrivaled brutality of the separatist cells on this world would eventually lead to the IFS declaring them rogue agents, an occurrence unique to Elysium._

 _In 2377 riots all across the Fringe Worlds were inspired by the tales of the Separatist Seven. Motivated by feeling underrepresented and unprotected by the HSA when compared to the core worlds, thirteen new colonies rebelled within six months after the seeing that even the developed worlds of the Fringe could stand up to their Colonial watches. Due to most of these worlds being recently colonized and mostly uncharted, the separatists were able to hide in the jungles and forests of the planets, forcing the HSA into a bloody guerilla war through the support of the IFS seven central systems._

 _Unwilling to fully mobilize against its own population, the parliament refused the military's proposal to immediately assault the Separatist Seven, instead ordering to simply contain the threat for now to limit civilian casualties. A decision they'd come to regret as_ _the IFS now had access to the vast industrial complex of the Fringe Worlds, some of which belonged to the company Hahne-Kedar, the single biggest armaments company within human space and, more importantly, sole supplier of the Paladin Mechanized Support Combat Suit. With its to weapons of high qualities secured, the IFS began to create its own military-industrial complex to arm its militias with the very weapons they'd face in combat with the HSA, even beginning the training of its own Paladin units. Furthermore several thousand of engineers were tasked with returning the previously captured space ports to working condition._

 _The year 2377 ended with 3.3 million deaths as a result of the Fringe Wars, the first election of the IFS senate, the formation of the IFSDF and the continued absence of 27 HSA warships._

* * *

 **A/N: So the first peek at something I've mentioned a lot. The Fringe Wars will be a central theme of this story, in fact they'll be so big I'll have to dedicate several codex entries just for them.**

 **Anyway I'd like to apologize for taking this long to update, I've been finishing up some stuff for school so not much time there now I'm free though but with Christmas coming up I may or may not find time to write.**

 **Let me know what you think of the chapter, which is mostly action I know but I'm more of a action and less of a politics guy anyway and I hope that I succeeded in portraying a younger, more optimistic Saren. Be assured there's a reason for all of this.**

 **See you around next time.**

 **Edit: As of 25.7.17 Chapter 7 has been remastered.**


	8. To Each Their Own

**Chapter 8. To Each Their Own**

* * *

 **3\. April 2388 AD, Arcturus Station**

"Lal Qila has confirmed that Eclipse was not involved in supplying the arms to the IFS, Chancellor Noé. He'll stay where he's right now until further orders are given to him," one of the ministers at the table said. "What's our next course of action, Sir?"

The chancellor looked at the evidence laid out in front of him, most of it came from 'Lal Qila's' mission report. Not only was the HSA dealing with the resurrection of its worst enemy, they also didn't know who was backing them up. The mass accelerators secured on sight could've come from anywhere. Outdated council gear used by almost every Terminus warlord in existence.

"What do we got?"

"Just about nothing, this whole thing was a masterfully executed false flag operation," another member of the government replied.

"Harper?" Noé turned his head towards the man to his right.

"Do all of you recall the operation above Illium?" the director of Cerberus questioned as he brought up the disrupted footage caught by a helmet camera, showing an asari running out of a room within the Eclipse freighter, an operative in grey armor stepping past the door as his SR-8x fired into the direction she had fled into before three other Cerberus agents came pouring through the door and towards the downed man who's perspective they had just witnessed.

"We've got a positive ID on her. Tela Vasir," he explained. "Special Tactics and Recon, the personal agents of the Citadel Council. This confirms what we already feared, a Spectre engaged Cerberus forces and retrieved the data cache Eclipse was guarding for the Shadow Broker," Harper argued. "Someone with a Spectre on their payroll, the ways to cover their tracks and the resources to back up the IFS is behind all of this. Most likely someone with close ties to the Citadel Council."

"This is a very serious implication, if another, alien government is sponsoring terrorist organizations on our soil, it might as well be a declaration of war," Noé said in return. "But even with this footage I still have to ask, who is responsible for this, Harper?"

"We don't know yet but I do not believe that the Hierarchy would play nice with us only to stab us in the back. Doesn't fit their modus operandi or their recent actions. Furthermore we've been nothing but on good terms with the turians. The salarians however are another story. This is exactly the way the Union does things," Harper concluded as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

"It would explain the salarian mercs training IFS insurgents," the minister of inner affairs chipped in.

"But I don't believe it to be the salarian's work either," Harper countered, drawing the look of the man who had bought into his initial explanation. "Why would they leave such an obvious trail? They've been waging their wars with deception and covert operations since the rise of the roman empire. They wouldn't be this sloppy," the director argued.

"Leaving only the asari," the chancellor realised,"But we have nothing that would incriminate them nor do they have an obvious motive," Noé said and received Harper's nod in return, confirming the notion. "How likely is it that this was the work of a rogue agent within their ranks? Are we sure Vasir didn't go on this trip on her own? As a Spectre she should have the resources to pull this off."

"The possibility of a rogue Spectre exists. It has happened before," the minister of alien relations, Kadlec, confirmed. "54 years ago a turian Spectre went rogue and murdered hundreds of people before she got tracked down by a task force with the sole goal of hunting her. Called her the 'Demon of Athena' because she roamed the Athena Nebula during her killing spree," the minister explained, further supporting the theory.

"We could send Ambassador Goyle to approach the Council on our findings. We still have the ace of saving over 2000 civilians up our sleeve. That has to be worth something. Besides if there's someone within their ranks who's working behind their backs, they should know," Minister Kadlec argued.

"I strongly advise against that Chancellor," Harper countered almost immediately. "If this isn't the work of a rogue agent but really a Council operation, we'd be at a serious disadvantage by revealing that we are on their trail. Give me and Cerberus a few weeks, I'll find who's responsible."

"Noted," Noé said before turning towards Kadlec. "Get me Ambassador Goyle, let's play this the nice way for now. If it doesn't work, I'm coming back to that offer, Harper."

"Chancellor I-" the man began only to be shot down.

"Director Harper, Cerberus is not needed at the moment. You're dismissed, return to your duties."

"Yes, Sir." Jack Harper replied coldly and walked out of the room without another word. He didn't enjoy doing this but at the moment Harper's approach wasn't the way he wanted to do things.

* * *

 **18:33 Local Time,** **4\. April 2388 AD, Shanxi, Living Quarters in the Outskirts of the Colonial Capital**

"The deaths of our brothers and sisters on New Canton, Fehl Prime and Ferris Fields served as a reminder to the one ugly truth most of us have forgotten in the last few years," the voice echoed through the tv screen of the prefabricated colonial building. "After over two centuries, the Human Systems Alliance is still unable to protect us!" it declared just as a large, red banner with a heptagon on it was illuminated by spotlights behind the speaker, betraying his allegiance.

"With the revelation that alien mercenaries can simply land on our worlds and slaughter us as they please, we have to come to terms with the fact that the HSA is now not only an oppressive force but a threat to the very survival of our species!" the IFS spokesman declared as the screen displayed pictures of the breached shelter on New Canton, dead civilians killed by krogan and vorcha mercenaries were lying in a small sea of blood that had collected within the room. The attacks had happened only roughly half a year ago, the memories were still fresh in his mind. He noticed the image of a child, she couldn't have been older than his sister, literally torn to pieces by one of these alien savages and felt the anger wash over him.

This couldn't stand.

As if the spokesman could read his mind he went on with his broadcast.

"The IFS will not tolerate this. In the past, we stood up for the oppressed Fringe Worlds but now our struggle has grown in scale. The HSA no longer simply ignores our demands and suppresses us for speaking up against them. No, now they endanger every human that has ever lived!"

The pictures ceased to switch as the spokesman returned on the screen resting his arms on the table in front of him.

"Don't allow the HSA to pave the road to our destruction. Rise up my brothers and sisters, fight for our safety and our right to exist. Remember the Fringe, remember Fehl Prime, remember Ferris Fields and remember New Canton!" he shouted and the charisma of the person simply overtook everyone in the living unit as they erupted into cheers of agreement, cheers loud enough for them to not register the knocking on the door.

A crucial mistake.

"Open up!" a voice shouted from the outside while banging on the door. "Shanxi Colonial Watch!"

"Oh shit," one of the young man in the room said as he quickly hit a button on the remote switching the channel towards a sports news reportage while another walked up to the door and opened it as the faceless armored figures walked into the room, shoving the boy who had opened it up to the side, causing him to trip backward and rub his head as a result of the fall.

"This is an unscheduled inspection of Living Unit B-312," the goon in charge declared as his black visor stared back at the man that had stepped in front of him, his eyes reflecting of the polished, coloured glass. "You are going to give your identification cards to the soldier over there for processing." he pointed at his own 'clone' who had made his way to the single desk int he room. Just another faceless government enforcer, armed to the teeth and looking equally threatening. This was how they treated them.

"While you are processed, we will search this living unit. Then you have to disperse, no social gatherings after 19:00 local time" he kept instructing as more soldiers walked into the room and started to heard the crowd which had peacefully watched television towards the man that would take their IDs in a cold, mechanical manner. They showed little to no sympathy for even the youngest among them, one pulling the boy that had let them in to his feet before forcing him to the rest of the crowd.

"Hey, no need to get pushy!" one demanded as he saw the events unfold. The goon behind him, apparently unsatisfied with his behaviour, reacted to the man's insistence by poking his rifle into his back. For some reason the man decided to turn around, only to receive an armored elbow to the face.

"Don't you fucking touch me," the man replied as the smaller civilian hit the ground with a thud, blood pouring from his nose. He hadn't even laid a hand on the soldier.

"Cut it out, Private Santiago," the man in charge ordered with no empathy, most certainly simply repeating rules set by his superior. "Someone wake that one up, he hasn't been processed yet," he ordered without looking at the bleeding man.

His eyes remained glued to the treatment of the people around him until he felt the hand on his shoulder at first softly but soon enough rather strongly pressing him to move on. He gave in to the demand and came to a halt at the end of the line that had formed in front of the soldier who now carried a device that would read the small plastic card in his hand. The line started to move up and soon enough it was his turn. He handed the ID card over and the soldier pulled it out of his hand, a sting of pain radiating as one of its corners cut into the side of his finger. The ID card displayed his name while flashing green and the soldier simply handed it back to him without apologizing.

"Saracino, Charles. No previous offenses. Everything checks out. Next," he said as Charles was shoved to the side by another soldier. He walked over to the group that formed in the corner of the room and chose to stand in front of it only to hearing a beeping noise behind him.

"We got one," the soldier said as another walked up with his rifle trained on the man currently being processed, he was an older citizen who had previously watched the broadcast with them and Charles had only found it somewhat odd that he'd spent his time with much younger people. The beeping was now raising a lot of questions in his head. Had he been the one to turn the broadcast on to sway them? If he was an IFS member, they were all screwed. This was looking bad.

"Bag him," the leader ordered as the faceless figure with a blood stain on his elbow forced the man to the ground by stomping into his kneeling before pulling a black bag over his had.

"Thought you could hide from us, Iffy scum?" the man chuckled as he forcefully threw the man to the ground while putting handcuffs on him.

"This living unit has sheltered a known terrorist," the leader declared, confirming Charles' worry, "I'm placing all of you under temporary arrest for interrogation in accordance to the fifth directive of the Fringe Martial Law. If you resist, we will not hesitate to use force."

"How the hell were we supposed to know that he was with the IFS?" Charles questioned angrily, earning him the 'glare' of the soldier's visor who simply hit a button on the remote, switching back to the IFS broadcast which now displayed old combat footage from the Fringe Wars, calling for people to step up to the deeds of their predecessors.

"We're not exactly as stupid as you Fringers think," he replied. "Bag that one too."

Charles saw the end of an SR-7 smashing into his stomach before a black hood was pulled over his head.

That's what happened if you said something they didn't like to hear.

* * *

 **5\. April 2388 AD, Citadel, Office of Councilor Ioventus**

"Just give me the benefit of doubt here, Councilor."

"This has nothing to do with doubt on my side, Ambassador."

"I'd like to point out that saving thousands of Council civilians should give the HSA some credibility."

"This isn't about credibility either, this is a very serious accusation, Ambassador Goyle. An accusation that has to be backed up by conclusive evidence," Councilor Ioventus stated as he looked at the evidence given to him by Anita Goyle. The chancellor had ordered her to present the data, cleansed of any hints of Cerberus even existing, to the turian representative. Strictly speaking, this was going behind the back of the Council but apparently Noé, while willing to walk the diplomatic path, still considered the words of caution given to him by the director of the Cerberus Initiative.

"Which is precisely why I came to you with this," she said pointing at the report. "Even if Tela Vasir is not the main culprit of these acts of terrorism, it still means that there's a rogue agent among the highest echelons of the Citadel," she explained.

"Then why do you trust me? For all you know I could be the rogue agent," Ioventus countered, it was a legitimate question since he was breaking several laws regarding the range of actions allowed to a councilor.

"Turians don't solve their problems with backstabbing. If you'd want us out of the picture, you'd be duking it out with the HSA Navy right now, not hire a Spectre to give information to mercenary bands to allow them to hit soft targets."

Ioventus threw her a skeptic glance, cultural values did nothing to support her case.

"Furthermore you've been pushing an investigation of Vasir for four years," she said, finally able to put her knowledge of Council politics to good use.

"How do you have that information?" Ioventus mandibles twitched in surprise.

"The same way we know that the salarians and the asari have been holding private meetings excluding the Hierarchy ever since the start of our joint exercises," Goyle replied, not revealing the fact that a Section 13 agent had simply 'borrowed' the omni-tool of a worker of the asari embassy for a couple of minutes during a meeting in the HSA embassy. The miracles of slight of hand.

"Councilor Ioventus, Humanity sees the Hierarchy as the closest thing we have to an ally on the Council at the moment," Goyle started her strategy of once more aiming for turian sympathy, it had worked in the past. "And we trust you to not be the rogue agent due to lack of motive. Because of this I was ordered to approach you for your input on this subject," she finished, stressing the last part of her sentence.

Ioventus seemed to consider the words for a moment and sat down at his desk, his talons drumming on top of it, the sound of them hitting the metal desk echoing through the room.

"Turian Naval Intelligence has been tracking Vasir's operations for over a decade now, ever since one of her operations accidentally caused the death of the entire crew of a turian frigate," he finally explained. "I've had reason to believe that she is working for the Shadow Broker for some time now but we never had any hard evidence to back it up, she's good at hiding her trails."

Goyle saw her chance, even at the risk of getting fired and sent to prison for treason.

"If I were to give you hard evidence that she is connected to the Shadow Broker, would it be possible to determine if Agent Vasir was responsible for the attacks?" Goyle asked.

"Where would that evidence come from?" Ioventus replied as he looked at her, his amber eyes filled with curiosity.

"I have to make an urgent call, Councilor. I might have what you need," she replied. "I'll be back."

* * *

 **20 Minutes Later, Citadel, HSA Embassy**

Goyle had bursted into his room and, without his permission, hijacked his secured terminal. Now she was talking to Harper and Alec was stuck sitting on his bed, awkwardly eavesdropping on the exchange.

"Ambassador, do you realise the consequences of giving the Council access to the mission reports of Cerberus?" Harper's voice questioned. "There's a reason why we wiped all traces of the initiative off the record, our very existence could cause irreparable damage if its revealed under the wrong circumstances."

"I just need the mission report for Illium, not Cerberus' entire track record. Besides, ever since your little 'excursion' over Invictus, at least the Hierarchy is bound to suspect we have some form of black ops naval formation."

"The details of the operation were never disclosed to anyone outside the Council of Primarchs," Harper argued. "They just know that we destroyed the raider vessels, they have no clue how we did it and no intention to find it out."

"For god's sake Harper, just give her the files and blame it on a N7 team," Alec sighted frustrated, no longer willing to hear the pointless discussion between two people wanting the same thing, at least not if it took place during his free time. "Change up a few words and it will be a regular special operations raid, no need to disclose Cerberus in any way. Illium isn't Council territory, they have no jurisdiction. Anything we do over there is irrelevant for them. Hell, blow up the right building they might even be grateful."

The silence lingered for a moment and Goyle looked at Shepard who had fallen back onto his bed, now looking at the ceiling, regretting that he hadn't locked his door.

"Where did that come from?" she asked, confused by his unusual irritation.

"Just a tiny bit on edge recently," he explained.

"Altering the report is one thing, the recordings are the actual issue," Harper said. "Cerberus forces are clearly visible in the footage."

"To people who know their insignia. Just explain it away with a new type of armor that's looking differently. Wouldn't even be a lie since Cerberus wears its own new, fancy stuff anyway," Alec reasoned. "Come on Harper, you know I'm right."

"You owe me one, Shepard," Harper finally replied. "I'll send the altered files to you within the next hour, Ambassador."

Before he could protest, the transmission was ended.

* * *

 **Three Hours Later, Citadel, Office of Councilor Ioventus**

"My analysts have confirmed the authenticity of the recording, Ambassador," Ioventus said as he brought his omni-tool up. "Combined with the other evidence, this undoubtedly links Agent Vasir to a known enemy of the Council, the Shadow Broker."

"Even if it turns out to be a false lead, can the HSA count on turian support to find out who was responsible for the attacks?" Goyle questioned.

"I will plead your case to the Primarch of Palaven but I can't guarantee that he will support you," Councilor Ioventus replied truthfully. Honesty was its own reward. "However you have my promise that I'll do everything in my power to bring justice to your dead."

"I appreciate it, Councilor Ioventus," Goyle replied. "I believe I will see you in the next council meeting, correct?"

"Indeed you will. I will bring this information to Council and launch an investigation as soon as possible," he said as his omni-tool, along side it's orange glow, disappeared.

* * *

 **6\. April 2388 AD, Shanxi**

The bag was pulled off his head and the blinding sensation of white light hit him like a freight train. As his eyes adjusted to the new level of brightness, he noticed that he was handcuffed to a table. Not exactly one of his favorite ways to wake up.

"Charles, do you know why you are here?" a man questioned from behind him as he heard the door close. While he couldn't turn his head completely, he did notice the guard standing next to the door with the black bag in his hand and a stoic expression on his face.

"Because I said something you didn't want to hear?" he muttered.

"Because you are charged with assisting a known terrorist in escaping justice. Do you know who that man was?" the man in the green uniform of the HSA's army questioned as he walked into Charles' line of sight.

"I have no idea," he replied. "I only know that you beat the shit out of an old guy after his ID didn't check out."

"He worked for Andrej Kamarov," the man threw a glare towards Charles. "One of the last remaining high ranking officers of the IFS, at least until they themselves declared him a rogue. You may know him as the Butcher of Elysium," the interrogator explained. "Do you know what that man did?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me what he 'did' in the eyes of the HSA." Charles spat back in defiance, he had heard the name Kamarov. Evil tongues called him a zealot, more neutral ones called him pragmatic.

"I'm not your enemy, Charles."

"You beat me with a rifle, trashed my living unit, put a bag over my head and kidnapped me. You sure as hell aren't my friend."

"The HSA is doing all of this to ensure the continued safety of the Fringe Worlds."

"No you are doing all of that because you core people just don't understand us. We don't want you here and we sure as hell don't need you here."

"Andrej Kamarov was the leader of the insurgency on Elysium. His methods included bombing hospitals, abducting and torturing the families of HSA servicemen and as you are probably aware, detonating a dirty bomb in the center of New Illyria. He vanished without a trace after the Fringe Wars and now the IFS is painting him as a hero. If one of his men is on Shanxi, you're in a lot of trouble," the interrogator argued, not reacting to his own accusation.

"That's what you claim," Charles spat back. "I've heard that the HSA needed to deal a blow to the image of the IFS, make them hated on Elysium in order to occupy the world," he pulled on his hands in a vain attempt to remove the cuffs. "You people just don't get it, the lies you are fed growing up on your fancy core worlds with a spoon up your ass. You still believe that the HSA is actually the knight in shining armor it makes itself out to be? No. You're just as bad as you claim the IFS is. Hell you are worse. I lived through the IFS 'occupation' of Shanxi, they didn't raid living units, they didn't raise barriers in the street and they didn't arrest anyone for simply being in the same room as one of their enemies."

The interrogator folded his hands in front of him.

"For the record, I'm from Port Bigby," Charles didn't believe that for a second,"but I am not here to discuss with you and I don't believe we are making a lot of progress here, so let me try another angle." he argued. "Where you at any point aware of the fact that someone working for the Butcher of Elysium was living right next to you?"

"No," Charles simply said.

"That's what you claim," the interrogator replied with a suspicious tone as his mouth twitched into a grin. "Why were you watching an IFS broadcast? You should be aware that viewing terroristic propaganda is a felony. Did you simply not care?"

"Why do you care what I watch in my free time?" Charles spat back.

"Because the IFS has a singular aim with their broadcasts, they seek to recruit people for their sleeper cells by twisting them with fear and lies," the man explained. "Charles, you were the only one in that living unit with no previous offenses, don't drift down that path," the interrogator said as he nodded at the guard.

"I am willing to offer you a deal, you make a statement that the man who was arrested supported the IFS and we let you go, turn a blind eye. No need in sending you down the same road he already walked."

"You want me to give you a reason to lock an old man up? Nah."

"There's no honor among thieves, Charles. He'd take the deal without hesitation should we offer it. Don't go to prison for people who'd throw you away the moment you are no longer useful to them."

"I'm not doing it. You can stick your deal wh-" he was cut off as the guard pulled another black bag over his head.

"Charles, we can hold you for three days until we have to find a charge and trust me we will find something to charge you with. Take some time, cool down and think about my offer. Next time I won't be so generous," Charles heard the man get up as his chair scraped on the floor. "Throw him into solitary. No need for him to discuss this little chat with his friends."

"Yes, Sir," the guard said as he pulled Charles up from the chair.

* * *

 **In another room**

"First one who didn't bite at the Kamarov move," the HSAIS officer said to his army comrade. The deeds of the Butcher made him a perfect method for cracking most people. It was a scare tactic. While the man they had arrested was a member of an IFS cell, he hadn't been associated with Kamarov, after all it was hard to be associated with dead people.

"You say that like it's a good thing, this one's IFS material," the interrogator replied as his index finger pointed through the mirrored glass and towards the young man. "So what's the game plan, just keep them here for a few days? Most of them are too young to go to jail and frankly, there's no reason to lock them up."

"No, there isn't. We'll just put them on a watch list, especially that one. They'll either find their way or lead us to the big shots once they actually link up with an IFS cell."

"That's a gamble."

"It's worth the risk."

"If you say so," the army officer shrugged. "You're the intelligence officer."

"That I am," the man nodded. "When is the raid taking place?" the HSAIS officer added.

"Any minute now, sadly we're stuck watching interrogations."

"They have a charm all by themselves.."

"Maybe for HSAIS, I'd rather be knocking down doors," the man as he took a sip of coffee. "Same strategy with the next one?"

"Yes."

* * *

 **6\. April 2388 AD, Shanxi, Living Unit B-331**

The door was kicked down and Zaeed twisted around the corner, a man with a red band on his arm appearing in his line of fire, his armor only partially in place. He squeezed the trigger and the man dropped while the Iffy next to him tried to go for the gun on the desk. They had gotten the drop on them after all. The soldier who had walked up right behind Zaeed Massani dispatched him with practiced ease and both of them moved up to the next door just as another soldier prepared to open it. His hand touched the handle just as mass accelerator rounds tore through the wall and embedded themselves in his left side, causing him to collapse and scream in pain.

"Bloody hell," Zaeed cursed as yet another soldier, Vido Santiago, dragged the injured soldier into cover while the small rounds smashed through the thin walls of the living unit's interior walls. While build to resist hostile weather conditions, the prefabricated buildings were far from bulletproof. The sand grain sized rounds worked their way towards Zaeed as he threw himself to the ground, the rounds meant for him instead hitting his squad leader in the neck, resulting in a large pool of blood closing in on Zaeed's position as the man tried and failed to stop the flow of blood.

"Toss a grenade in there!" he shouted to Vido who unhooked the round object from his combat rig and pulled the pin. He rose to his feet and forced the door open, somehow avoiding a deadly hit in the process before tossing the object into the next room without looking.

"Incoming!" a voice shouted from the inside of the room. It was followed by the sound of an explosion that silenced the mass accelerator fire. Zaeed crawled over to his squad leader and felt no pulse, leading him to hush away Vido before the man could move to help his commander. They had been to slow.

"Save it, he's gone," Zaeed sighted as he crawled back to the corner of the door peaking his head around the corner. "Shit," he muttered with a horrified voice as the inside of the room was revealed to him, causing Vido to turn the corner as well.

"Damn," the man said as he faced the consequences of his throw. While the grenade killed the shooter it had also killed who had been with him in the room, yet for some reason the soldier seemed unaffected by it. He was probably too shocked to display emotion right now. Zaeed opted for damage control.

"You couldn't have known, Santiago," Zaeed tried to sound earnest but considering the remains of the shooter's family sounded far too horrified for it to actually work. "This isn't on you. It's on him."

"Damn right it's on the Iffy," Vido replied walking into the room and kicking the corpse of the shooter. "Had it coming you little scumbag."

Apparently the soldier didn't share Zaeed's feelings about the scene in front of him. He followed him into the room, only throwing a glance at the torn up corpse of a young boy before seeing Santiago kneel down next to the dead separatist, his armored boot slowly turning redder as the blood flowed towards it.

"Enough, get up," Zaeed ordered as the rest of his unit walked into the living room. "Call HQ. Tell them the cells busted but also tell them that collateral damage was caused in the process. Three dead civilians."

"At least we got what we came for," the injured engineer of his unit said as he held up the intelligence that had been the main cause for the raid, positions of other IFS cells in the immediate area.

While Zaeed never shared any sympathy for the IFS, he still felt guilty as he looked at the mangled remains of the shooter's family.

"This better be worth it," he grumbled before turning away from the remains. "Fucking Iffys," he sighed.

* * *

 **2130 CE, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

"Ludicrous," the projection of Tela Vasir said as she looked down at Ambassador Goyle. "Tell me you aren't believing this? I've served this Council longer than their species can even live."

"Agent Vasir," Councilor Tevos said in an attempt to calm the Spectre down. "The Council will follow this lead. If your statement is correct there's no reason for you to be hostile. The truth will come out."

"I am not hostile, Councilor," the Spectre replied, still angry. "I'm offended at the notion that you are listening to these ridiculous claims made by some upstarts."

She didn't expect them to come this far, if she were to be honest. Tevos had been rather certain that they'd just fight it out with Eclipse and be done with it. But apparently something had caused them to dig deeper, actually managing to link Vasir's operation over Illium to the greater picture. So when Ioventus had come to her with the human findings, she had been forced to call a meeting. Truthfully, she knew that Vasir was probably far angrier at her than she was at the humans, even if her behaviour indicated otherwise. This made the agent a loose end, an end Tevos planned on cutting sooner than later. Vasir could do far more damage to her than she had let the Spectre to believe and Tevos suspected that the agent knew that.

"Agent Vasir, I ask you to watch your language," Tevos stuck to her act. "The Council will review the proposal of Councilor Ioventus and the HSA Embassy," she added in her famously mediating voice. "Until then, consider yourself dismissed, Agent Vasir."

"You're just letting her go?" the human ambassador said.

She had to.

"She's right Tevos, this evidence is solid. Agent Vasir needs to be brought in for further questioning, not left to her own devices," the salarian betrayed her.

"Councilor Idril is right," the turian said as he turned towards the salarian in surprise.

"In this case I have to side with Councilor Ioventus and the HSA," the salarian councilor added, much to Tevos' disapproval. That backstabbing amphibian coward would pay.

"Then it is decided. Agent Vasir, please report back to the Citadel as soon as possible," she declared, her facade still in place. "Idril? I'd like to continue our previous conversation now. If you'd join me in my office," the asari councilor offered a smile hiding her true intentions.

"No, he won't have a word with you," Ioventus commanded, causing her to see her plans crumble in front of her eyes. "As the third member of this council, I refuse to once more be excluded while the Union and the Republic talk behind the Hierarchy's back."

It was bound to happen eventually. Tevos had admittedly called salarian councilors into private meetings too often in the past. She had just hoped that the circumstances would be more favorable.

"If there is something you need to discuss, I demand that you do it in front of me," the stubborn old turian said, his past in the military doing well to make it sound more like an order than a request.

"Councilor Ioventus, rest assured that this is simply the continuation of a meeting we held before you contacted us."

"A meeting that can't be held if the representative of the Citadel's biggest contributor to the peacekeeping force is present?" the councilor insisted as his mandibles clicked in anger.

"This is a matter that doesn't concern the Hierarchy, Councilor Ioventus," the salarian councilor quickly explained. "You just met with the human ambassador alone as well, didn't you?"

Tevos smiled at the revelation. At least he was a more adept liar than Vaelan. Maybe he had his reasons for speaking up against her proposal after all.

"Now before you say that it's not the same, I'd suggest you save face and let us continue our meeting, Councilor," Idril nodded towards the turian before he and Tevos began to leave the council chamber.

He was good. Very good.

They walked into the office and locked the door just as Idril pulled his hood down, the scars standing out to her almost immediately.

"I'm not used to this much competence from a fellow councilor, your late predecessor never would've pulled this off," Tevos admitted, deciding not to becoming hostile just yet.

"Reason I was selected, Union wanted someone who could deal with current situation caused by Vaelan and you. Did my fair share of deception with STG," the salarian explained quickly, experiencing a complete change of personality while dropping the mantle of politician. "Have to ensure Vasir is taken care of. Should use her as a way to permanently cover our tracks when the need arises."

Tevos hid her surprise at the revelation that Idril had played her for months with a practiced facade. So he wasn't what he pretended to be, she'd have to giver her contact with the asari's intelligence service a call later on. An STG agent turned councilor, this was a new one. She also picked up on his apparent dislike of the plot Vaelan and she had set into motion. For now he'd be useful but she'd have to keep an eye on him. The salarian intelligence service had never approved ot the things most salarian politicians did, only their loyalty to the Union's Inner Cabinet keeping them in line.

"You are suggesting to sacrifice her to Councilor Ioventus and blame the entire operation on her?" Tevos followed the quick sentences of the salarian.

"Operation was dangerous reckless and selfish. Personally wouldn't have done what Vaelan and you did but now Union is part of the plot," Councilor Idril began. "Will do everything in my power to protect the salarian people," he took a deep breath. "You miscalculated, didn't believe HSA to make the connection, problematic."

"So you want to finish this as quickly as possible?" Tevos figured, ignoring the critism.

"Yes."

"What do you suggest?"

"STG has prepared false evidence, incriminating Agent Vasir," he sent Tevos a package via omni-tool. "Could eliminate Vasir on her way to Citadel and release evidence post-mortem. Eliminating risk of her implementing us."

"I have to admit, you are very different from Vaelan."

"Vaelan was career politician, my political career forged by STG. Pragmatic and focused, not interested in personal gain."

"Councilor Idril, I believe you and I will do great things in the future," she offered as she extended her hand.

"Clearance for crossing Vasir off?" he questioned as he turned around, not reacting to her offer of peace.

"I believe Agent Vasir has outlived her usefulness, give the word to STG. Time to cut of loose ends," Tevos said as the salarian pressed another button on his omni-tool, the back of his red head pointing towards her.

"Will hear from me," he said. "Consider matter take care of."

Without waiting another second the salarian pulled his hood up and walked out of the room.

For now he'd be useful.

* * *

 **Thrity Minutes Later, Illium, Nos Astra**

Damn the council for summoning her and damn Tevos. She wasn't ready to leave just yet, the moment she did she'd be blamed for everything.

Right now she needed to drink enough to forget that her life was falling apart around her. The self-righteous turian crusader, the lying asari bitch and the double tongued salarian bastard. Together they acted as the current incarnation of the Council she swore to serve back when she had still been optimistic about the state of the galaxy and the role of the Council in it. How foolish she had been. She downed the liquor as the music of the club eliminated the sound of the glass hitting the table. "Another one," she called for the bartender who handed her another tube of purple liquid, her fifth one in fifteen minutes. Others would've been floored already but she had built a high tolerance over the years.

"Sure you can handle it?" he asked not letting go of the bottle with his plated hand even when she reached for it.

"I've dealt with my issues by drinking for over three centuries," Vasir replied. "I think I can handle it."

"Whatever you say," the turian said as he released his grip,"I'm not calling an ambulance for you though," he chuckled before shifting his attention towards another customer. She began to further combat the issue at hand with her new drink when her eyes caught something out of place, something she hadn't expected to see on Illium. Even in her drunken state Tela still noticed the anomaly that had entered the room. A single human walked into the club, his head covered by a short, almost yellow patch of fur being the first unusual thing about him. Hair was a feature only shared by batarians, quarians and humans among the galactic community. Batarian hair was short, rough and unnoticeable and quarian hair, while similar to human hair, was obstructed by their suits, making humans the only species with visible, and more importantly noticeable hair which aided him in standing out which was not necessarily a good thing. Adding to these factors came his height. He towered over the majority of the people currently dancing in the club, being a good head taller than the asari and even managing to stand out among the much taller salarians as well. If Tela recalled the turian bartender correctly, the human would even see eye to eye with the average turian, which would make him an exceptionally tall member of his species.

But even more importantly was his behavouir. He carried himself in a way that induced a certain kind of attraction she simply couldn't shake, a confidence that caused people to notice him. This attraction, as far as certain parts of the extranet were concerned, was in fact rooted in the fact that asari apparently had a species-wide thing for human males due to them reminding asari of a prehistoric time when the asari species was not mono-gendered. Personally Tela didn't buy that part when she read it, considering that she, alongside any educated scientist, dismissed the notion of male asari as nothing but conspiracy theorists trying to find something to talk about. However now as she somewhat forced herself to observe the rest of the club instead, she felt that maybe there may be some truth to it after all.

Or maybe it was simply owned to other factors that made humans attractive to asari. When they had first been encountered, the uncanny resemblance between humans and asari had made them the new priority target for most asari maidens. Not only had humans had quickly earned a reputation for possessing surprisingly good stamina, they also seemed very familiar for aliens. In spite of the social stigma attached to it, a lot of asari were still attracted to members of their own race and those too weak-willed to go after what they wanted out of the fear what others would think about them had found a way out with the humans. They were the closest thing to an asari and that made them very much desirable.

Looking around, she saw these factors at work.

The human tried to make his way through the crowd only to be blocked by a blue asari who decided to act on her repressed urges. She said something to him and moved his hands towards her hip, trying to get him to dance with her. He somewhat awkwardly placed his hands on her shoulders instead after freeing his wrists and moved her out of the way before continuing his stride for a few steps, intending to further advance into the club. But after a few more steps the yellow-haired human was again stopped by an even more determined asari. She lacked the concept of personal space even more than the first one and immediately tried to give the man a taste of what could happen while pressing herself against him and moving in to kiss him only for the human to pull his head back with a smile and say something while removing the clinging maiden with a quick set of motions that seemed to be second nature to him.

Interesting.

Lipreading didn't help her much when she couldn't actually speak the language but given the disappointment on the face of the maiden and the distance he tried to gain, it had to have been some form of rejection. She had to give it to him, he was really dedicated to getting to wherever he wanted to go. Even she wouldn't have rejected that one, although that was probably her drunken self speaking.

The male human ironically danced his way through the crowd, twisting out of another attempt of a maiden with ease only to come to a stop at the bar, in hearing reach of Tela.

"You got that weird asari thing?" he said, not aware of it's name. "It tastes sweet and is served hot while being in a tube this big," the human explained as he tried to show its size with his hands.

"You gotta give me a bit more buddy," the turian shrugged. "That's literally half of all asari drinks I serve."

"I know that it's not alcohol," he offered a smile. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a lowbrow when it comes to asari drinks or any non-human drinks really."

"If it's not alcohol that reduces the list to two things I can give you," the turian said.

"Who dares wins. Give me both," the man replied. "Time for some old-fashioned experimentation."

"If you're not broke, it's Thessian Pine Needle Tea," Tela said as she took another sip of her liquor, causing the human to turn towards her. "The other option's called Matriarch Tea for a reason. The leaves are dried for a long time before being served and then they are sold for a ludicrous prize. If you can still afford something to drink, you didn't have Matriarch Tea," she chuckled. "Sorry for not making your night, bartender."

"It's fine," the turian's flanging voice replied. "I would've had to tell him about the prize eventually anyway. Business guidelines got a little more strict ever since an angry krogan trashed the bar."

"My saviour," the human smiled while acting incredibly grateful. He turned towards her and Tela noticed the brown colour of his pupils illuminated by the ceiling lamp above the bar.

"Just not in the mood to see a bouncer kick you in the curb for buying something you can't afford," she said setting her drink down on the desk.

The human decided to occupy the empty chair between the two and moved closer to Tela, an action that would most certainly anger the asari he had previously rejected.

"I'm Daniel. Daniel Bradford," he offered his hand.

Since she didn't mind making every asari in here even more jealous, she took the hand and put on her best smile.

"Tela Vasir," she replied, already feeling the angry glares of the rejected maidens. "You made quite the entry. Broke a lot of hearts as well," she chuckled.

"Not on purpose. I just felt like getting that drink again and since this bar is right next to my hotel I decided to treat myself."

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked, the fact that she was drunk making her more casual than usual.

"Business," he simply replied, apparently truthfully. "You look like you're drinking to forget something or someone," he smiled. "If it's the later, I'd say that life is too short to get stuck on someone but considering you live ten times as long as I, that advice may be faulty."

"Just having some stress at work," It wasn't a lie, it was simply not the whole truth. "My bosses are being stupid and I may get into trouble for something they did."

"Yeah I feel you," he said. "Wanna talk about it?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." she said with a laugh, hiding the fact that it was technically true since having someone know of her dealings with the Broker and the Council was a justified reason to kill someone.

"Not the first time I heard that line," he replied with a smile as the bartender gave him his drink.

He took a sip of the drink and Tela was surprised by the fact that he didn't even flinsh at the pain the temperature of the tea should cause. Thessian Pine Needle Tea was served as hot as possible and unless humans possessed a natural resistance against hot temperatures, it should've caused him to spit it out and try everything in his power to cool down his tongue while screaming in agony.

"That's it. You know your beverages, Miss Vasir," he smiled, not showing the effects of the drink. Instead of a painful twitch or teary eyes usually associated with someone not showing pain, she saw something she was very familiar with. The completely neutral expression of someone that had learned to simply suppress pain over time through training that bordered on torture.

"Still a bit hot though," he admitted. as he slowly set down the drink. "I think I burned my tongue."

"It tends to be," she said. "What kind of business did you attend here anyway?"

"The best ki-" he stopped himself as he turned around seemingly unprovoked. "Friend of yours?" he asked while looking at the batarian that was forcefully pushing his way through the crowd, standing in sharp contrast to Bradford's, if that was his real name, dance through the mass of people.

"Vasir," the batarian grunted. "You and I still have some unfinished business."

"I wouldn't exactly call him a friend," she shrugged. "More like a guy who doesn't know how to let go really," Tela didn't mention that he was mercenary she had left to die during a past job with the Shadow Broker. A mercenary that was probably very pissed right about now if the look in his face was anything to go by. However she wasn't scared of him, after all being a Spectre, biotic and an asari meant that she could handle just about anyone unarmed, especially if they were as brutish as him. She prepared herself to throw him through the club but before her biotics flared up, the human decided to interfere. 'Bradford' got up from his chair and placed himself in his path. His frame blocking the Batarian's access to Tela with surprising calm. While taller, the batarian was wearing heavy armor, carrying weapons and was most likely stronger than him. After all, batarians tended to be possess above average upper body strength, especially if they earned their living by killing.

This wasn't the kind of thing a sane person would do. She'd hate to see him get beaten to a pulp but something was telling her that this wouldn't happen.

"Get out of my way," the batarian demanded. "Or you'll regret it."

"Mate listen, you gotta move on," 'Bradford' joked as he brought up his hands. "Plenty of fish in the sea."

The batarian tried to shove the human but the man didn't move a single step back. It looked like the part of her that had faith in him was right.

"You think you're some kind of tough guy?" the mercenary said. "Trying to get laid by being brave?"

"Nah just trying to do the right thing here. Walk away, mate," the human replied while subtly shifting into a fighting stance, his left foot moving back slowly but steadily to improve his positioning.

"The right thing would be walking away while I kick her face in," the batarian said while reaching behind his back. "This is on you."

Then everything happened faster than most people could track, Tela however noticed every little detail.

The merc drew a knife from his back and attempted to stab the human who simply deflected the jab away from himself before locking the wrist of the batarian, preventing him from pulling the knife back. His palm smashed into the face of the batarian, causing blood to shoot from his noses before an elbow connected with his template. Next a knee drove into the stomach of the mercenary and during the motion the blade changed owners, its tip drawing batarian blood as it brushed against the skin of his throat. Then he forced the mercenary to the ground.

Now, after not even two seconds, the merc was on the ground with a knife pointing at his neck and the human was looking completely unfaced at the prospect of his two allies attacking him.

"Walk away, mate. Just trying to keep you out of trouble," he explained, pushing the batarian away who now scrambled for his allies. "You and I have to talk, Spectre Vasir."

This would be an interesting night after all.

* * *

 **A Few Days Later, Another Location.**

"We can't land here," the pilot shouted as Alec got up.

"Just get me as close as you can," the specialist ordered as he unlocked the hatch of the shuttle. "Don't linger. If this goes south, you don't want to be here," the man said with a serious tone.

The boots of Alec's hard suit hit the floor as he jumped out of the Kodiak which immediately flew upwards again and left the area. He set his eyes on the door of the building and started to run.

He jumped through the door the moment it had opened enough for him to fit through and found himself in a large crowd of people. The specialist stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd due to his worn, grey armor. The signature red dagger on his shoulder made almost unrecognizable by the events of the last two days.

He pushed himself through the collection of humans and continued to move forward, the thought of what would happen if he didn't make it in time ever present in the back of his mind. He ran past the elevator, deciding against using it due to how long it would take to reach the level he needed to get on. He only had to make five stories, he would be faster on the stairs.

Alec Shepard pushed the door open and started to sprint up the stairs as his breath began to quicken due to the strain placed on his body by constant movement at high pace. He jumped up the stairs and almost flattened two people in his way while going up. He jumped past them, ignoring their complaints. They didn't matter right now. The only thing that mattered was making it in time.

The sign for level four came up and he forced himself to keep going, telling himself the consequences of not making it in time. This might as well be one of the most important runs of his life time. He simply couldn't be late, his feet continued carrying him up the stairs as the stinging in his torso grew more intense with each breath.

Not much further.

He arrived on level five in record time and bursted out of the door, once more almost injuring a passerby in his hurry. He turned left and closed in on a crossing of two hallways. As Alec got closer he was forced to jump over an obstacle that had just entered his path, costing him valuable time. He flew through the air and the moment he once more felt ground under his feet he continued his dash only to narrowly dodge another person that stepped into his way. By now the muscles in his legs were telling him to stop and the sting in his lungs was begging him to sit down and rest. Four injured rips were crying out in agony for their body to simply give up and lay down and he almost considered listening to them.

Almost.

He remembered the stakes and ignored all of it. No matter how bad of a beating he had taken, he had to power through this. It was simply too important. The pain would be worth it if he made it in time.

When he got even closer to his target, pure determination silenced the pain and his hands unlocked the seal of his helmet. It would just get into the way after all.

The grey helmet came off as he threw himself into the room, much to the surprise of the people inside of it.

* * *

 **08:03 Local Time, 11. April 2388, Arcturus Station Medical Center**

"Did I miss it?" he asked as he rested his hands on his knees while staring at his parents in law and their daughter, Hannah.

"No Alec, you didn't miss it," Hannah reassured him with a laugh as she glanced at him from the hospital bed.

"You look like hell," her father added as the specialist looked up at him, only barely staying on his feet. "Where have you been the last couple of days? We tried to reach you."

"Something came up," Alec winced as he grabbed a chair and sat down when relieve and pain washed over him at the same time, ignoring the sound the additional weight of his hardsuit forced out of the chair. "Sorry for just vanishing like that but an old friend needed a favour."

* * *

 _Codex: Paladin Mechanized Support Combat Suit_

 _Build by Hahne-Kedar, the Paladin was first developed in 2349 as a prototype suit capable of operating in any environment. The armor has since developed into the driving force behind human Planetfall attacks due to carrying a lot of fire power and being incredibly resistant to damage while still capable of rapid deployment._ _Serving as the tip of the spear of the HSA Marine Corps, the Paladin is mostly limited to expeditionary forces although several army formations still maintain several platoons of Paladin Suits._

 _Equipped_ _with a variety of weapons, including chain guns, mortars and rocket launchers, the suits are steered through a neural connection with a human pilot and are protected with by a shield generator and heavy armor plating. VI assistance is required to operate them._ _The pilots of Paladin suits have to undergo a rigorous training regime in order to allow them to endure the strain of the neural connection and to operate the mech to the highest of it's capabilities. Due to the hybrid nature of the suit the pilots are trained in martial arts, infantry combat, armored tactics and artillery theory, all of which are required to unleash the full potential of a Paladin._

 _The Fringe Wars first revealed the devastating impact even a single Paladin can have if opposing forces lack the means to effectively fight it. Their agility, durability and the training of their pilots make Paladins the single most dangerous conventional weapon in the HSA's ground arsenal. During the conflict both the IFS and the HSA deployed mechanized companies of Paladins and on several occasions two groups of these suits clashing left permanent scars on the battlefields of the Fringe, the Siege of Horizon turning into the single most devastating battle of the war and serving as a permanent reminder of how dangerous the technology can be._

 _Officially the Paladin is only operable by humans due to the complex neural connection being an integral part of the design. This connection is limited to the human nervous system and for this very reason Hahne-Kedar claims that they will not be able to produce the weapon system for any non-human. Suspicion that the HSA is paying the company to keep the technology from finding its way into alien hands has been voiced time and again._

* * *

 **A/N: So happy delayed holidays I guess. Chapter 8 is here. Yay. 174 follows and 138 favorites, going strong people. I like it.**

 **Now if you'd just review more, that'd be fantastic.**

 **I hope I managed to hit the tone I tried to hit wit this chapter and some parts didn't seem too silly.**

 **Furthermore I hope that you are not going to decapitate me for making the HSA somewhat questionable in parts of it's actions. No one is perfect after all.**

 **Bonus points for anyone who gets the deal with Lal Qila. :D**

 **See you around next time.**

 **Edit: As of 25.7.17 Chapter 8 has been remastered.**


	9. A Long Night in Nos Astra

**Chapter 9. A Long Night In Nos Astra**

* * *

 **9\. April 2388 AD, Illium, Nos Astra**

"That batarian-"

"Ka'Anto Had'dah," the Spectre corrected him.

"Ka'Anto Had'dah didn't just find you, he got sent after you," Redford countered. "He won't be the last."

"I can handle myself, let them come."

"I don't doubt that. Still I can't just let you walk out of here alone. You're too valuable to lose," the specialist insisted.

"You're worried about me? Cute. We just met," she said sarcastically.

"A friend of mine would like to have a little chat with you. He doesn't buy the whole 'Rogue Spectre' story," he replied. "As it stands, you're the only witness he has. Interested?"

"You get me of Illium, I get payback?" she questioned as she sat down her drink before turning towards him. "And I don't get incarcerated for life or killed by my colleagues?"

"Basically." Redford confirmed.

"I didn't have any other plans either way," the asari chuckled while getting up. "This doesn't sound half bad."

"Is that a yes?" he questioned.

"Yes, it's a yes."

The Spectre pushed herself away from the bar and stood up from the chair, after stumbling a bit she regained her balance quickly. He should've gotten here earlier, this would be easier if she'd be sober. Redford threw the batarian knife to the ground and closed the gap between the two, only the wave of her hand and her focus on not letting the alcohol get the better of her stopping him from getting too close.

"So how does this go down?" she asked as the two started to make their way through the dancing crowd.

"Who would they sent after you? Another Spectre?" Redford asked while scanning the crowd.

"Another Spectre would have to get here first. It's going to be the STG cell on Illium," she explained. "They'll throw mercs at us to soften the target and then close in for the kill. Now that they know that they are working on borrowed time they'll get more aggressive."

"How many STG agents are we talking?" he questioned while forcing a salarian to the side. Damn this place was crawling with potential assassins.

"No clue, they don't like to share that part with the Spectres. You know, in case they have to terminate us."

"Alright. Are you armed?"

"I am biotic and I have my omni-tool with me, that's it. The rest of my gear is at my place."

"Not ideal but it's too risky to stop at your place so we'll have to work with what we have. I'll call a friend of mine for pick-up. He'll be coming in from the Citadel so we have to bunker down for the time being," Redford explained, without mentioning that Alec didn't know he'd play taxi yet. "When he gets here, we book it."

"You came up with all of that on your own?" Tela Vasir questioned with a sarcastic tone. "I'm impressed."

"I kind of make this up as we go along," he said while pressing a button on his watch, causing the ring around its display to glow red. To the vast majority of people currently alive this glow meant nothing. To Section 13 agents it basically meant "Get me the hell out of here", its activation sending a prepared distress signal to either the closest agent, or in Redford's case a predetermined one.

Specialist Alec Shepard.

The odd couple moved across the dance floor and Redford observed his surroundings as good as possible, the music, aggressive light and dancing crowd complicating the task. Everyone could be a threat and at this distance, he'd have hardly any time to react to someone walking up to him with a gun.

"The guy who's talking with the bouncer," the Spectre said, "his left horn is kind of broken. That's a serious injury, he's most likely an STG agent," she finished as the krogan bouncer started to look at the two.

"Great," Redford said. "Of course the bouncer is a krogan."

The krogan, most likley hired because only a krogan could throw out an angry krogan, started to push his way through the crowd, coming directly towards the two. He didn't take near the amount of time Redford had needed to get as far as he had already gotten, since people tended to move out of the way of a krogan bouncer, and soon enough he was right on top of the,

"Is there an issue, mate?" Redford said only to be drowned out by loud music.

The deeper, louder krogan voice suffered none such issues. "Some salarian told me you put something in her drink?" he questioned. "You better get out of here, you creep."

"Listen, I didn-"

Redford was interrupted as the krogan started to glow purple and float away harmlessly, drawing the attention of everyone around them in the process.

"Didn't feel like talking," the equally glowing asari explained. "Come on, move along. STG won't wait for you to stop being impressed by biotics."

As he shook himself out off the jealousy of lacking said ability, he grabbed a hold of the asari's hand and started to pull her through the crowd, using the fact that most were at first distracted and then amused by the flying krogan to his advantage.

"I can walk by myself you know?"

"Yeah but maybe it'll buy us a few seconds if they are looking for you, not for an asari and a human," he explained his strategy, causing her to nod in agreement. "Besides, I'd never hear the end of it if I were to lose my drunken target on a dance floor. That'd be bloody embarrassing." The way out of the club grew easier with each step as he forced his way out of the worst part of the crowd, people moving to witness the spectacle of the still floating korgan behind him. Part of Redford felt sorry for him but between embarrassing the bouncer in front of dozens of people or being beaten to a pulp by him, the specialist knew what option he preferred.

"My hotel's just five minutes away," Redford said. "If we hustle, we can be there in three."

"Or we can draw less attention towards us by walking like normal people, who don't feel like every salarian is going to shoot them any minute now."

"Fair point," Redford agreed while slowing his pace, now no longer noticeably leading the way. To the rest of Illium it would look like a couple that had hooked up in a club, not a Spectre and a Section 13 agent evading the local STG cell. Vasir and Redford walked across the plaza connecting the hotel and the club while doing their best to look for potential opponents, the trick about espionage was knowing who'd stab you in the back and who would simply walk up and shoot you in the face after all.

"The one by the skycar?" Redford questioned, relying on the Spectre's better understanding of what an STG agent looked like.

"Nope, he's just an information broker," she dismissed."Ran a background check on him ever since he moved into my neighbourhood."

"Did you do that on every neighbour?" Redford asked, only slightly surprised.

"Just the ones who seemed suspicious. No normal salarian works as little as that guy does."

"I guess that makes some sense." he answered, not really sure if it did.

"Really makes a whole lot of sense if you've spent as much time as I did in this business, don't get me wrong. You're good, you wouldn't be in that 'Section 13' group if you wouldn't be," she reasoned, causing Redford to look at her in surprise as she described the agency. "Come on, of course I looked at the data cache I stole. Natural curiosity," she explained.

"Just how much was on that drive?" Redford asked as he noted the grin on the asari's face. Not the answer he wanted.

"More than enough," she assured him. "I'll give you the whole list when you get me of Illium."

* * *

 **9\. April 2388 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy**

The day had been rather longer for Alec, since Anita Goyle had been quite busy in her duties as ambassador. He not only had to listen to a rogue Spectre call him an upstart but he also had the thought that his wife should give birth any day now looming in the back of his mind. He'd be able to take his leave in two days.

Just two days.

He closed the chat window after telling his soon-to-be-wife he'd go to sleep now and went to lay down on his bed when the wrist watch on his left hand started to vibrate and glow red.

"Stuck on Illium, need exfil, got a package for IM. - Lal Qila," it displayed on the screen in small letters and Alec immediately shot up from his bed and started to dash for the armory, almost smashing into Goyle in the process.

"Alec, what's going on?" she questioned as the man ran past her.

"Can't explain!" he shouted. "Ask Harper!"

He slit his security card through the locking panel in front of the armory and started to put on his hardsuit in record time. He slapped the chest plate into place and attached the combat rig, now including the prototype kinetic barrier/ shield hybrid, to it. After grabbing his helmet, he opened the door to the gun compartment of the room and grabbed his SIS-8, his knife and the sole submachine gun in reach, a Kassa Fabrication M-83, designed for the naval special forces commonly known as N7. After being satisfied with his choice of weapons, he started to place ammunition in his pouches and grabbed several of the disk shaped Mark-14 grenades out of the container they were stored inside.

This might get messy after all.

Alec Shepard rushed out of the door and only came to a stop at the room of the logistics officer.

"I need a ride," he declared as he opened the door to find the man sleeping.

"What?" the tired officer questioned as he rubbed his eyes.

"Focus," Alec insisted. "I need a ride to Illium. Right now."

"Argh, let me think," the officer grunted as he tapped his hand against his head. "Right, right. Bay D24," he began. "The HSASV Hastings is docked there I ca-"

The specialist ran out of the room the moment he had a direction and connected the comlink in his helmet to the ship, moving as fast as possible in case the ship was in the process of leaving. He couldn't miss that flight.

"I'm with HSAIS." he began as the captain opened the high priority message. "I need you to give me a ride to Illium."

"Who's this? I'm going to need an author-" before the captain could finish the demand, Alec transmitted the requested code along side the standing order to any military personal to grant a Section 13 agent anything he might need in the pursuit of his mission.

"The Hastings will be ready to leave when you get there, Specialist," the captain spoke after a short pause Alec had used to cover more distance. At least some good news. This might have been the first time for today that things went as planned.

Specialist Shepard jumped across the gap between two platforms, cutting the way to the elevator short by over 50 meters and drawing the eyes of the few diplomats still present on the Presidium. As he landed he rolled to break his fall and dashed for the closest elevator, taking the momentum out of his movement by sliding the remaining distance between him and the still open doors. He got to his feet, turned around and hit the button that would send him to the docking area, the military authorization ensuring that the elevator would prioritize his request over any other it might have gotten.

"Hurry up you stupid metal box," he snarled as the elevator began to move causing the people sharing the cabin with him to look at him in a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Can't these things go any faster?" he asked as an asari shook her head. Most advanced space station in the galaxy and he probably would've been better off taking the stairs. He just knew that Redford would get himself into a whole lot of trouble over this 'package'. The man had a talent for these things.

* * *

 **2130 CE, Illium, Nos Astra**

Nos Astra's nightsky was dominated by the lights of its skyscrapers, a large advertisement board attached to the one in front of the window being casting just enough light towards them to illuminate the otherwise dark room. She looked through the blinds of the window as the human, who still insisted on being called 'Bradford' even though she had informed him of her awareness of his allegiance to Section 13, strapped on the last parts of his armor in the darkness. Only the slight red glow of his watch, now attached to the armored sleeve of the hard suit, betraying his presence. It either spoke for his vision or his training that he managed to attach the pieces correctly in complete darkness.

"I thought you traveled via civilian transport?" she questioned, remembering a previous chat they had shared on the way to the hotel.

"My bag is pretty big," he explained. "and Illium's control officers are pretty bribeable."

"That they are," Tela agreed. She would know. "Wish I could've gotten my stuff though."

"If everything goes as planned, you won't need it."

"Then why are you putting on yours?" the Spectre muttered, well aware that things never went as planned.

"If you fought in a war, you'll put on any piece of protective gear you can have, even if you don't need them," he replied. "Also I hate suits, I look way better in this thing," the blonde man said as he knocked his knuckles against the hard surface of the grey chest piece.

That was a part she couldn't understand completely due to lacking one component of the experience. While already well into her fourth century of life, she couldn't claim to have fought in any sort of conflict that could be seen as a war on the scale of the one she suspected him to have been part of. Sure she had hundreds of intense fire fights and long term operations to go back on but there hadn't been a major war the Citadel Council had taken part in ever since the Krogan Rebellions. None of her missions compared to the long term pressure of being part of an ongoing, interstellar war.

"So you fought in those 'Fringe Wars' of your race?" she hoped she recalled the name correctly, after all she was still somewhat drunk. She knew that the conflict had begun some twelve years ago and while he looked rather young, it was still very much possible that he took part in its later stages.

"Yeah. Just about anyone in Section 13 did," he sighted, looking at his helmet, the finest trace of an emotion she couldn't quite place yet audible.

"I have to admit that I haven't had that particular honor yet," she replied.

"No honor really," 'Bradford' sighed. "I read up on your people's history. Wars aren't something asari do a lot, right?"

"No they are not. The last real war in galactic history was the Geth Uprising three centuries ago but the Council didn't deploy any forces during it so I didn't take part in any of the battles," she explained. "The last time the Council fought a war was the Krogan Rebellions."

"That's a long time."

"I take it your kind was very different?" Tela asked, already suspecting the answer to her question.

"You could say that," he agreed as he got up from the bed. "Anything?" he said, referring to her looking out of the window.

"Nothing yet. Just two asari going at it in the building over there and a turian assembling a weapon he most certainly doesn't have a permit for in his room right below. He looks really annoyed though, ceilings probably the opposite of sound proof," she nodded at the other hotel complex opposite to theirs.

"At least they are having fun," he said as he looked at her, swiftly turning his head away as he realised what he could've implied with his look. "We are not leaving anyone important to you behind, are we?" he questioned as he rested his hands on the 'neck' of the combat rigging attached to his armor, his eyes now scanning the finer details of his helmet, the darkness making it hard for Vasir to make out just what he was looking at.

She wasn't sure if he asked out of pragmatism because he didn't want to leave anyone for STG behind to target. If there was such a person, it could turn into a liability after all. Or if he asked because he actually cared to a degree if anything happened to someone innocent. She remembered a time when she did, that time had passed. Spectre assignments didn't leave room for said caring, a lesson she had learned after enough failures to protect everyone. The target always had priority, everything else was secondary.

"No, in my line of work there's not a lot of room for any sort of meaningful relationship," she sighed.

"Good. I'd hate to go out there again. Already pushed my luck as things are," he chuckled.

"You'd risk the mission for someone not related to it?" she asked to learn more about the way her companion thought. If they were going to flee together, they needed to understand how each of them did things.

"If they are important to my target, they are important to the mission," 'Bradford' replied as he walked up to the window. He lifted the blinds a bit and began to observe the neighborhood as well. "The skycar is new," he observed.

"Pulled up right as you got up," Tela replied. "No one got out yet but it's probably here for a reason."

"That reason being us?"

"Most likely. It's a rental," she said, noting the small advertisement on it's door.

"Makes sense, just get it on a fake name and the investigation goes into the wrong direction right from the start," the human figured. "Pretty basic actually."

"Bonus points if they manipulated the flight computer to give a wrong location."

"Should be easy enough for the STG."

"Three to the left and one up from the room with the two asari. Lights just turned on," Tela stated as she saw the flicker of the lamps.

"Could be a coincidence," the Section 13 agent suggested, causing Tela to look at him.

"You don't really believe that now, do you?" the asari questioned as he shrugged.

"I never said I believed it, I just said it could be," he assured her. "Give me a break, woman."

"Would you look at that," Tela suddenly said as the door to the skycar opened up to reveal a salarian wearing Eclipse armor. He began to walk to the hotel across the street and the low grunt escaping from the man next to him led her to ask her next question. "Did you make friends here already? Which captain did you kill?" she added as she recognized the small insignia on the salarian's armor that identified him as a cell leader.

"Hey, I'm just here on a business trip, remember?" he countered, obviously not willing to disclose the details of his reasons to be on Illium. Not that she hadn't made the connection between the death of one of Eclipse's top officers in Nos Astra and the appearance of a Section 13 agent in the same part of town already. But this wasn't her issue right now. She kept looking out of the window, opting to keep talking in the process.

"Of course you are, silly me," she chuckled while the salarian opened the door. "I'd almost bet that the blinds on that window are going to close in around a minute," she said while pressing her finger against the glass.

"STG wouldn't make such an obvious mistake, would they?" the human questioned, unfamiliar with salarian training.

"Who said it's STG? Maybe they are just after you?" Tela countered and throwing a little bait into her question.

"Unlikely, this room isn't registered on 'Bradford'." he said. "As far as Illium is concerned, I booked a hotel on the other end of Nos Astra."

"I thought you were just here for business? Why the two rooms?" she chuckled, pleased at having succeeded even in her drunken state.

"That's your batarian friend and he brought company," the human suddenly pointed out, "coming out of the plaza and heading straight for the hotel as well. Still think it's me they are after?" he asked. "You wouldn't by any chance have pissed of Eclipse in the past, would you?"

"Damn," she said. "They are gathering everyone in Nos Astra who'd love to see me dead, aren't they?"

"Looks like it," the human confirmed her suspicion. "That's good."

"STG has a reputation for being good. Complete deniability," Tela replied before mockingly forming up just one of the potential stories they could spin around this incident. "This way it's going to look like my enemies got wind that I may be gone for good and decided they want payback before I slip out of their hands forever."

"It's a decent story," the human shrugged. "They take you out without even risking their own skin and if they're lucky, you take out a couple of these bastards before they get you. Win win," 'Bradford' figures as he stepped back from the window. "I didn't exactly pack enough ammunition to fight an army, tell me you don't have any other enemies around here."

"Sorry but the next one just arrived," Tela muttered apologetic as she spotted the familiar asari police chief. "I knew the cops here were dirty but 'killing an agent of the Council dirty' comes to a surprise, even for me," she explained.

"This is just great. Even law enforcement has a grudge against you?"

"Well a century ago I was the reason she had to weasel her way out of a slavery investigation. Asari can hold a grudge for a long time. Although I didn't expect her to actually work with Eclipse. That's a new low, even for her."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." the human said. "Old human proverb."

"Speaks volumes about your people." she said, probably sounding more insulting than she intended. "No offense."

"Anyone besides the galaxies most notorious spy agency, mercenaries, a crime syndicate with a private army and law enforcement out to get you?" he asked as he looked at his watch.

"Crooks, drug dealers, the maidens in the club, the krogan bouncer." she joked, remembering the expression of jealousy on their faces when she left with the human and the sight of a helpless, floating reptile being ridiculed by the entire club. "I think that's it."

"I pray to every deity in existence that the krogan won't make a return," the human pleaded as he folded his hands. "I don't think he'll fall for that trick a second time and I don't want to fight a pissed of toad that can tear me into two pieces ."

"This presents a whole new issue though," Tela said, aware of her lack of armor and weapons. "You might not be ready to fight an army but I am not even ready to fight anything bigger than a bunch of goons with pistols. My barriers are strong but they aren't that strong," she nodded towards the heavy weaponry on the back of the police chief.

"I don't think we'd make it five minutes outside now. If the police is in on this, we might as well run around screaming your name. Your place is not an option."

"I know," she said. "I do have a hidden stash though."

"Where?"

"Further away than five minutes," the Spectre frowned.

* * *

 **9\. April 2388 AD, Combat Information Center, HSASV Hastings**

"You are asking me to cause a political incident, you know that right?" the captain questioned as he scratched his beard. "Getting you to the surface is one thing, an armed extraction is another."

"I know," Alec said as he looked at the projection of Nos Astra. "But Illium is technically a world under corporate control, and not part of the Council. Besides, the package is very important to Section 13. One way or another, this has to go down Captain Faye."

"I know and I will give you my full support but I still have to make sure you understand the consequences of this operation."

"We are basically at war with half the Terminus anyway, what are a couple of asari corporations going to do?" the specialist chuckled dryly. "I'll deploy to the surface and make contact with Lal Qila, then you'll have to get us out."

"Can't we just fly a platoon to the surface and get him out right away?" the captain asked as the projection displayed several Kodiaks landing in the proximity of Redford's position, small, holographic marines pouring out of their crew compartments to secure the area.

"You were worried about an incident, weren't you? If I do my job correctly, there won't be a need for anything besides one Kodiak," Alec said as he pressed a button on the computer connected to the projector. It now displayed a single Kodiak hiding among Illium's traffic and swiftly dropping a single human in the dark of night, his small holographic form disappearing once it made contact with the 'ground'. "I appreciate the willingness to break out the sledgehammer, Captain Faye but let's try the scalpel first. If it goes south your grunts are going to get enough to shoot at anyway."

"Whatever you say, Shepard. This is your area of expertisel," the captain said as he looked at the suggested tactic. "We'll arrive in roughly four hours. If you need anything else, let me know. Until then I'll put the N7s on standby."

"Much appreciated, Captain Faye," Alec replied as he leaned over the desk.

The commanding officer of the Hastings offered a quick nod and walked out of the CIC, leaving Alec alone with his thoughts. He had spent too much time playing bodyguard, it would be good to be back in the field. Damn Goyle for making him go soft. It was about time he did what he'd been trained to do.

* * *

 **Three Hours Later,** **9\. April 2388 AD, Illium, Nos Astra**

"They are on the move," the Spectre informed him from her position at the window.

"Let me guess, coming straight for our hotel?" Redford asked as he looked at the watch now integrated into his armor. At least two more hours until Alec would be here.

"Just Had'dah and his batarian buddies for now," she said. "Using the dumb muscle to test out our capabilities. Evil but smart."

"Classical probing attack," he figured as he went to the door. "We gotta get out of here."

"I agree," she said. "Simply running won't help though."

"I didn't plan on running," he told her as he closed the seal on his helmet, turning him into the faceless incarnation of the HSA the IFS had come to use in so many propaganda pieces. Even the darkest corners of the room became visible to him as his HUD activated its night vision mod. "They are either going to use the stairs or the elevator. If they are stupid, it'll be the elevator, if they are slightly less stupid it'll be the stairs. If they are too confident, they'll split up."

"The moment you take one of them out, I can 'borrow' his barrier generator and gun," the asari Spectre added while he grabbed a hold of his SIS-8 and unlocked the door of the room, lifting the pistol close to his chest.

"They just went inside," she said and just like that Redford opened the door, looking at the elevator display to his right. The number of floors on the display was climbing.

"Elevator's moving," he said as he left the room, the smaller asari right behind him. "Overconfident or stupid?"

"Both."

The number came closer to their floor and when the doors opened to reveal no one but the turian janitor of the hotel, Redford lowered his pistol a little bit.

The janitor pulled out his ear phones and looked at the human. "Looking for the batarians?" he asked, apparently unmoved by the fact he'd just been threatened by a figure in heavy combat armor. "Took the stairs, don't make too many blood stains, I'm the one who has to clean that up later," either the turian had seen some seriously bad things during his mandatory service or Illium really made everyone jaded if they stayed long enough. Redford suspected it to be a combination of the two.

The specialist nodded his thanks and began to move, Vasir following close behind him. He opened the door of the staircase and heard the heavy steps of armored boots climbing upwards. He leaned over the railing only to be greeted by a face with four eyes. The batarian shouted something but got interrupted when another pulled him aside just in time for Redford's first bullet to miss his target. At least one of the mercenaries headed for them had good instincts, he could be trouble.

The footsteps grew more plentiful as he began going down while the batarians kept rushing up the flight of stairs. Redford slowed down just in time for them to twist the corner and began to shoot, the bullets of his pistol finding their mark on the batarian standing first in line. The rounds smashed into the barriers while the mercenaries behind him got their line of fire obstructed by themselves. The first merc, apparently in panic squeezed down the trigger of his assault rifle and the small rounds only somewhat missed Redford, smashing into the wall next to him and punching small holes into the wallpaper instead of the specialist, before his barriers gave in and a single pistol bullet ended him. Hitting the center of his face, the impact caused the body to drop back into the group as the second batarian was momentarily distracted by the blood spraying into his face, his barriers not stopping the slow moving liquid from hitting him.

Redford wasted no time as he jumped down the stairs and kicked the corpse to further obstruct the batarian team moving up the stairs. The second merc fell backwards and the third tried to catch him in an act of comradery while the fourth one finally opened fire on Redford, his prototype shield projector catching the rounds as he reached the platform between two flights of stairs. He aligned his pistol with the head of the merc and started shooting while stomping on the hand of the third batarian who had tryed to go for his pistol. The fourth mercenary didn't have the same quality of barriers that the first had enjoyed and fell sooner than his fellow batarian, sliding down the stairs as the deadly bullet gave him a push in the direction he had come from. Now the specialist took a knee on the neck of the batarian with the broken hand and started to squeeze of his air supply.

Next Redford unsheathed the knife on his right shoulder and dispatched the second merc behind him who just now started to lift the first dead alien off himself with a single well placed stab of the ceramic knife all the while keeping his pistol pointed at the head of the sole survivor. The asari Spectre appeared after the sound of fighting had stopped and immediately began to strip the first batarian, who had been made pointman due to the quality of his barriers, of his gear, taking a moment to decide on which pistol she should take while Redford somewhat lifted his knee.

"How many are left, where is Had'dah?" the specialist growled through his helmet, the filter to his voice making him sound even more threatening.

"In the lobby with the other teams," the merc stammered while trying to breath. Teams, that was plural and in turn bad news.

"How many?"

"About twelve guys," he said. "Plea-"

Redford squeezed his knee back down to interrupt the batarian from rambling.

"I don't want to hear it. What's with the cops and Eclipse?" he questioned and only then relieving the pressure on the batarian's throat.

"I don't know I-" Redford placed the barrel of his pistol in front of the batarians mouth.

"Think again."

"I wasn't in the meeting I'm sor-" the alien was once more interrupted by the pressure on his airways.

"You talk too much," he smashed the side of his pistol against the temple of the mercenary, causing him to drift into unconsciousness.

"Should've killed him," the Spectre criticized as she finished her scavenging. "He might wake up and shoot you in the back later on."

"I think he won't be shooting anything for the rest of his life," Redford countered as he got up.

"Let's keep moving," Tela Vasir suggested as a gesture of her hand requested him to take point. The specialist complied, taking care not to slip on the dark-red batarian blood, and soon the couple moved down the flight of stairs until they found themselves at the exit of the ground level.

"Twelve mercs and whoever else decided to join the party ever since," he summarized as he placed his hand on the opening mechanism of the door "What can you do with your biotics?"

"Just about anything," the Spectre answered, sounding earnest instead of cocky. "If they don't watch their spacing, they'll be in for a nasty surprise."

"Good, we need nasty surprises," Redford replied before opening the door that would lead them to the lobby. As it slid open the two didn't immediately rush out, instead waiting for a wall of rounds to come flying through it. When that didn't appear, Redford decided to take a chance and peaked around the corner only to find five mercenaries still waiting at the elevator, their frustrated pressing of the buttons next to it leading the specialist to believe that the janitor had decided to mess with the controls. "Seven aren't here, let's move up," he whispered before slowly walking out of the door and taking cover behind a decorative plant. It wouldn't stop any bullets but it would definetly keep him hidden. It's purple leaves extended far enough in each direction hide his kneeling form and right about now not being seen was more important than not being hit.

"No trace of Ka'Anto either," the Spectre noted while crouching down behind a counter located slightly in front of the specialist, her lack of armor making her movements completely silent.

"They are bunched up," Vasir said after taking a peak. "Now or never."

"Don't let me stop you," Redford nodded as the asari began to glow purple, the Eezo in her system coming to life. She rose from behind the counter and made a punching motion with her hand, a wave of purple rippling through the lobby and not only throwing around pieces of furniture but also batarian mercenaries. Two of the unfortunate targets met their demise when the wave cracked their necks and broke several other bones in their bodies due to its massive force hitting them at the right angle. The other five were thrown around like dolls and spread out across the lobby, making them easy targets.

Even while the wave was still moving, it's ripples growing less noticeable with each passing moment, Redford only somewhat realised that the Spectre wasn't done. In a blur of motion a purple figure shot through the lobby and smashed into the remaining batarians. Only then did he realise that the figure was in fact the Spectre herself, apparently catapulting herself through the use of her biotic powers.

She launched the merc she had aimed for into the wall and caused blood to splatter from the back of his head as he died on impact, not being able to force his head through solid concrete. Then she used the borrowed pistol to place several deadly shots in the heads of two stunned batarians, their barriers already shattered by pure kinetic force of her biotics and their skulls far to thin to stop the miniscule rounds from destroying their brains. She turned to her left to face a batarian about to get up and her fist started to glow purple as it smashed into his head, shattering every single bone in its path and liquefying his brain, a dark-red impression of an asari fist permanently embedded in the batarian's face.

The last batarian however wasn't dropped by Vasir as he leveled his pistol at her only for Redford to shoot him before he could act on the situation presented to him, three SIS-8 rounds causing him to drop down before he could even think about squeezing the trigger.

"I had him," the Spectre said as Redford walked up to the carnage.

"Not a single doubt in my mind," he answered, remembering the mission report of Cerberus's battle with her. He came to the realisation that it was a massive credit to the Cerberus strike team that they limped away from their encounter with nothing but injuries and wounded pride.

"Still leaves five mercenaries unaccounted for," the Spectre said as she idly kicked one of the batarians only hit by the shockwave, apparently making sure he was actually dead and not just playing possum.

"Think he booked it?" the specialist asked.

"Ka'Anto isn't the type to run away. If there's one good thing to say about the guy it's that he stands his ground no matter the odds."

"Well he sure as hell isn't aroun-" he spotted the slight, familiar flicker of something in the corner of his eye walking up to the Spectre and shoved her to the side while he started to shoot. The asari, after a second of confusion twisted on her heel and started to fire as well when she spotted the reflection of light hitting the figure at just the right angle.

"Tactical Cloake. Of course," she complained as she dove for cover. Redford himself repeated the move in a somewhat slower fashion, lacking the agility of his companion. He fired of the last round in the clip before making himself small behind his new found cover and switched out the magazine, taking the time to place the old one in his pouch for spent magazines for later refilling. The specialist smacked the fresh magazine in place and pulled back the sleigh as he switched his firing hand.

The perks of being ambidextrous.

He peaked around the new corner to find the same flicker of light exposed. With the squeeze of the trigger the barriers shattered in a blue burst of energy, weakened by the strain placed on them by the tactical cloak, and a batarian appeared as blood stained the ground, a hole in his leg causing him to kneel down. He groaned, trying to point his gun at the specialist until Redford placed another bullet in his neck, ending the source of the noise and the threat of being shot at the same moment.

"One down," he informed the Spectre who again powered up with biotic energy and launched another wave of ripples into the general direction the first batarian had appeared out of. He heard the sound of something cracking, followed by a scream that got ended with another gun shot ringing through the lobby. If you can't see them, just make sure you can hear them. Seemed logical to Redford. Two down, three to go.

He saw the blue muzzle flash as rounds impacted on the purple barrier of the Spectre and began to shoot at the spot, and while he didn't hit the shooter, he at least suppressed him.

The asari Spectre registered the hit and went back down, creeping around her cover so she wouldn't present her flank to the invisible batarian. Then she waited a moment before once more launching herself behind the suspected position of the mercenary. Upon impact a circular field of biotic energy caused a blue crack to appear in the air, showing the failing of a kinetic barrier and giving away the position of his enemy. Redford aligned his pistol with the center of the blue crack and fired until he saw blood appearing around his targeted area. He moved his aim up by a few inches and saw something drop. Vasir, closer to the target, pointed her pistol at the floor and fired of another round, killing the mercenary and causing his tactical cloak to reveal his dead body.

"Only two left," she said as she looked around herself to spot any reflection of light. Her eyes scanned the area and snapped back to a previous spot. She threw herself to the floor just as a high powered sniper round tore through the air. Redford mimicked the motion, still very fond of his head and not yet willing to lose it out of placing too much faith in the shield hybrid and made a move for better cover.

"Well there's one," he called through the lobby. "Now where's number two?" he tempted faith only to see the flicker of light on his right closing in.

The figure tried to fire his assault rifle at the specialist but didn't expect the unusual swiftness with which he rolled himself to the side before launching himself at the ghost, hoping that the sniper wouldn't have an angle at him. Redford felt his impact, certain of having managed to down the batarian until he felt a fist smash against his helmet. He forced his hand to where he suspected the mercenary's eyes should be while slapping aside the assault rifle. However he only felt the hard surface of a helmet and wasn't even sure if he had managed to remove the rifle out of the hands of his opponent.

So much for eye gouging and removing the threat.

He still pressed down the head as more blows smashed into his chest piece, knocking the air out of his lungs. He tried to grab a hold of the striking arm but due to the lack of visibility he narrowly missed it and decided to finish this before he found out if the mercenary still had his rifle or any other weapons that could kill him at any moment on him. He forced his other hand to what felt like the chin of the batarian and started to apply pressure until he forcefully twisted his neck, causing the blows to simply cease as the mercenary's arms dropped to the ground with a thud. Instead of standing up he rolled off the body and started to crawl back to the edge of the cover from where he had previously seen Vasir. He peaked his head around the corner to find her gone and instead standing further ahead, right where the sniper should have been.

He saw her mouth something before firing her pistol into something roughly the height of her knee. The cloud of blood that appeared in the air confirmed his suspicion that Ka'Anto was no longer going to be an issue. He started to walk towards her as she wiped of some blood of her pistol with a curtain.

"The janitor asked you not to make too many stains," he reminded her, sounding somewhat condescending.

"Can't fight if the bastard's brain is blocking the barrel," she replied nonchalantly. "There goes their probing attack."

"So who's next, Eclipse or the cops?"

"I believe Eclipse will throw some mechs at us, maybe some tech support. I didn't actually piss them off as far as I know."

"So they aren't going to fully commit," Redford reasoned, assuming that STG had simply paid a small fee to the organisation for taking out two trouble makers. "Police is going to be an issue though."

"Why?"

"They are all biotics, just like you."

"And?"

"I am not a biotic. If the HSA learned anything while engaging Eclipse it's that biotics are the single most dangerous infantry unit the average human soldier can face," he explained as they began to walk to the exit. "If they are anything like you, I'll probably be thrown around like a pillow."

"Seeing as I'm one of the strongest, non-Ardat Yakshi biotics I don't think this will be an issue." she replied before cracking a small smile. "Besides, you can handle yourself."

"Ardat-what now?" he tried to repeat the name, his translator failing to do its single job.

The Spectre simply didn't reply to his question, instead walking straight to the door and opening it with a swipe of her hand, an orange glow betraying the activation of her omni-tool.

"Never leave home without it," she said as they walked through the gap. "Where's your friend going to pick us up?"

Redford looked at the watch and sighted. "He'll come as close to us as possible but he'll only be here in forty five minutes."

"That was fifteen minutes? Time really does fly when you're having fun," the Spectre slightly slurred.

Of course he'd get stuck escorting the somewhat drunk crown witness with a thing for casual violence.

"Come on, we can't stay in here," she called from the other side of the door. "Can't risk Eclipse bringing down the whole building complex."

If the comment was made out of empathy for the people in the building or made simply because she didn't wish to be buried by rubble was something Redford wasn't ready to judge just yet.

* * *

 **10\. April 2388 AD** **, Tasale System** **, HSASV Hastings**

The ship appeared out of the Mass Relay network and opened it's hangar doors.

"Good luck down there, Shepard," it sounded over his helmet as he felt the Kodiak ascend from the floor of the hangar. "Unfortunately, this is as far as I can get the Hastings."

"This is close enough Captain Faye," Alec assured him as he sat down on one of the seats in the crew compartment of the shuttle which by now had left the ship and began its journey to Illium. The pilot had assured him that the trip wouldn't take longer than ten minutes. His claim was backed up by the ever growing outlines of Illium.

The specialist once more checked his gear, the M-83 resting at his side. It was unusual for a specialist to bring along a weapon that couldn't easily be disguised or fired while on the move but Alec Shepard had long since learned to compensate for the disadvantage of restricted mobility. Every specialist had a different fighting style after all.

The shuttle pilot informed him that they'd breach atmosphere soon and that they'd drop within a hundred meters of Redford's current location, only being delayed by him somewhat trying to blend into local traffic.

As if an armed military shuttle with the sigil of the HSA printed on it could blend in on Illium.

He felt the entrance into atmosphere as the Kodiak began to shake slightly due to meeting air resistance and grabbed a hold of a sling attached to the ceiling of the craft, stabilizing himself while getting up, looking out of one of the windows, which in reality were screens linked to high resolution cameras on the outside of the shuttle, and seeing the orange flames engulf the Kodiak.

"Three minutes," the pilot said. "One if I dive straight through the traffic."

"Let's not cause a multiple-vehicle collision," he called back into the direction of the pilot, a thumbs up being his only reply. While Alec didn't doubt that the Kodiak could take a hit from a skycar flying at the speed limit of urban traffic, he didn't intend to cause dozens of deaths by making a military craft shoot straight through organized aerial traffic. The shuttle began to 'blend in' as it made it's way to the surface, closing in on Redford's moving signal, the lack of explosions giving Alec hope that the man had for once actually managed to avoid trouble.

The hope was crushed as the specialist released the hatch of the craft and immediately realised that Redford had to be close by when he saw a squad of Eclipse mercenaries rush over an abandoned plaza littered with destroyed mechs. He waited for the pilot to fly next to the edge of a platform attached to the large, city-like skyscraper and jumped from the shuttle's crew compartment, landing on one of the hundreds of balconies of the arcological complex, the mercenaries ahead of him unaware of his presence. Alec crouched down behind the wall of a store and raised his M-83 so that his scope would align with the lone mercenary at the back, apparently guarding the rear of his unit. He squeezed the trigger and the first burst smashed into his barriers while the second one bounced of his helmet, causing the salarian to dive to cover behind an advertisement board, saved only by luck.

Alec however didn't plan on letting him call reinforcements as he fired through the board, the full metal jacket bullets successfully penetrating the object and by the sound of it hitting the mercenary. He left his cover and walked up to the board's opposite corner, peaking around it to find the mercenary aiming at him.

Apparently this one wasn't as dense as others.

Mass accelerator rounds left the barrel of a submachine gun and Alec was saved from relying on his armor thanks to the shield hybrid deflecting the rounds. He twisted around the corner and fired through the same spot again until he heard the sound of a gun drop. Then he swiftly jumped around the corner of the board, prepared to finish the mercenary only to find him lying dead in a pool of green blood. However he had succeeded in guarding the rear long enough for the squad to realise that they were now caught between two sides, having been alarmed by the gun fire of their fallen comrade. Two salarian Eclipse members turned their attention towards Alec and one of them sent an electric current towards him. Not able to dodge as fast as the situation required, his HUD began to flash red as it informed him that his shielding hybrid had been overloaded. A series of mass accelerator rounds only narrowly missed him as they reflected of his left shoulder, scratching away parts of the red dagger emblem in the process.

Alec slid away from the board and into cover behind the walls of yet another store while firing his M-83 into the general direction of the two salarians, one of which hit the ground as his barriers broke, waiting for them to recharge. Alec didn't waste any time trying to hold at his current position though as he dug out a disk shaped charge from one of his pouches. He pressed a button on top of the object and sharpened fins extended themselves out of its side before he pressed another one that would set the detonator to trigger three seconds after impact.

The specialist moved around the small kiosk and found his target in the form of the salarian without barriers. The disk left his hand in a practiced throwing motion and the Mark-14 got stuck in the salarian's leg as the sharp fins penetrated the slightly less armored knee joint. The mercenary, apparently familiar with the device chose to throw himself away from his comrade, instead of trying to remove the explosive.

This action most likely saved the life of the other salarian for now but eliminated any chance of survival the struck mercenary had. The grenade exploded, tearing away the mercenaries legs and sizeable parts of his lower body. Green blood stained the surrounding area as Alec twisted back around the corner, lowering the risk of being shot. The other salarian mercenary, after a second of shock, activated something on his omni-tool, causing him to be surrounded by an orange suit of armor, effectively boosting his barrier strength. He then leveled his submachine gun at the kiosk and began to fire on Alec's position while walking up to him in the process, several of the rounds managing to find their way through the entirety of his cover before zipping past him.

Alec saw something orange close in on him and dove away just as an incendiary projectile exploded on the ground, parts of the chemical still making contact with Alec's boots. Luckily for him, the armor suit of specialists was designed to be resistant to flame attacks and he only had to endure the heat while the burning liquid scorched his feet black until rapid stomping to the ground extinguished the flames.

The salarian, apparently believing the hit to have injured the human came around the corner while his weapon began its cool down process. Instead of seeing the burned remains of a human however, he was greeted by a hand smashing his unarmored face into the wall of the small store. Green blood leaked from his nose as Alec dropped the M-83, now only held in place by the sling attached to his combat rig. He tried to go for his pistol but was interrupted when a hand grabbed a hold of him, Alec spun around, ready to smash his elbow into the face of the new mercenary.

"He's the last one," Redford said as Alec snapped out of the adrenaline fueled motion just in front of his helmet.

"Knowledge is half the battle, Praetorian," he reminded him, using the codename given to him after being assigned his posting on the Citadel. "You taught me that."

"All yours, Lal Qila," he said, not yet realising his hold on the salarian.

"Are there any more of you?" Reford questioned as he grabbed onto the salarian's armored collar while walking into the direction of a very long drop.

The mercenary chose not to reply while Redford closed in on the railing. "When are the cops going to make their move?" he asked his captive who answered by spitting green blood on his visor.

"Are you really going to make me do this?" Redford insisted. "What's with Eclipse mercenaries never willing to talk to me? Is it something I do?" he joked as he reached the edge of the skyscraper.

Alec however had another idea. "So this is what your friend died for?" he asked, recalling the mercenary he had killed with his grenade throw. "Just so you'd end up dying out of spite?"

Redford shoved him against the railing, informing him of its location.

"He wanted you to live," the specialist argued while Redford became increasingly lax in his hold of the mercenary. "Don't throw that chance away."

The salarian's eyes stared back at Alec and he opened his mouth.

"Right about now," he smirked as sirens became audible.

Redford pulled the salarian mercenary back from the edge and threw him to the floor before kicking him in the face.

"He did talk," Redford reasoned. "No reason for me to give Illium's cleaning crews even more work."

"What's with the police making a move? What did you do Lal Qila?"

"He didn't do anything," the voice of an asari said. "They are after me, I pissed of a high ranking police officer a long time ago."

"Your package is the rogue Spectre?" he said as he recognized her from the Council meeting, looking at her for a moment before once more turning his head to Redford.

"My package is the information she has," Redford replied. "Trust me on this one."

"Done," Alec nodded as the skycars of Illium's police drew closer. "So how are we playing this?" he asked.

"When they start shooting, try not to kill them, they are just cops with an evil boss," Redford said.

"I assure you most of them won't be as innocent as you make them out to be." the Spectre said as a squad car came to a stop right above them, shining it's spotlight on them.

* * *

 _Codex: UT-47 Kodiak/ UT-90A_

 _The combat shuttle UT-47 Kodiak was first produced in 2347 after leaving a straining development phase. Designed to withstand enemy fire as good as possible it is heavily armored and equipped with a shielding device similar to that of the Paladin. The craft, called 'Combat Cockroach' by human marines, served the HSA for over 40 years until slowly being replaced by the Kodiak UT-90A, the first models having left the factory in late 2389._

 _The UT-90A, like it's predecessor, is capable of limited FTL travel but instead equipped with the shielding hybrid developed by joint turian-human research teams. Furthermore the vessel is capable of disguising its signature, making it viable for short-ranged stealth missions. Optically almost identical, the craft was designed in a way that would allow the HSA to retrofit their existing UT-47 to the newer model, a process finished on most craft by 2408._

 _The UT series doesn't stand out among the drop shuttles of other Council Races in any way besides the fact that it is slightly smaller, a decision made to limit the casualties taken should one shuttle be downed._

 _A number of shuttles have been modified to serve as transport vessels for Paladin Suits._

* * *

 **A/N: I've been accused of the apparently jumping around centuries in my story.**

 **Listen Mr Guest. There are two dating systems, Council Era (CE) and AD, the human one.**

 **If a paragraph begins with a CE date, it means that it's from the point of view of a council character, if it's AD it's a human one. I though that was obvious, but apparently you didn't get it, it's fine though.**

 **Other than that, I'd ask you to review with accounts so I can answer to you directly.**

 **I'd also ask you to review more, we are now 149 favs and 187 follows. Show me where you at people.**

 **Hope you slide well into 2017.**

 **I hope that even makes sense in your language.**

 **See you around next time.**

 **Edit: As of 25.7.17 Chapter 9 has been remastered.**


	10. From The Shadows

**Chapter 10. From The Shadows**

* * *

 **10\. April 2388 AD, Illium, Nos Astra**

"The shuttle is waiting on stand-by," Redford heard Alec's voice inside his helmet. "Two minutes until it can get us."

The two specialists stared ahead at the ever growing number of police cars slowly beginning to land while still engulfed by the light of one hovering above them. To an outside observer, it didn't look like they were actively plotting an escape.

"The car's armed," Redford countered. "We're right in it's line of fire."

"The Hastings is ready for armed extraction. I'd like to avoid that though."

"Define 'armed extraction', we can't exactly afford them killing half the law enforcement of Nos Astra."

"I was thinking more of a show of force actually."

"It's a frigate, not an assault carrier."

"It still has a reinforced platoon ready to make an entrance."

"That one looks different," Redford noted at the larger transport shuttle landing in the distance, this time audible for the third person caught in the light.

"It's Nos Astra's Special Response Unit," the Spectre explained. "We can't exactly afford standing around any longer either."

"How deep is that drop?" Alec asked.

"The lethal kind of deep," the asari replied. "You would have to be stupid to even come up with that idea."

"What about that one?" he nodded his head slightly to the left, towards an angular roof of a building attached to the skyscraper. "Like the old days, Lal Qila?"

Redford looked at the glass, contemplating the idea for a moment. Then his gaze moved around them as the heavily armed police officers appeared. They were clad in heavy armor and not only possessed something that reminded Redford of a grenade launcher but also devices that were most certainly assault rifles.

"Prepare to make a break for the railing and jump. Try doing what we do," he said to the Spectre as he slowly lowered his hands against the orders of the police officers, coming ever closer to the smoke grenade that would hide their movements to the naked eye. The police officers moved closer as Redford saw Alec reach for his own grenade, a disk-shaped Mark-14 charge.

Redford dropped the smoke grenade, specifically modified to release as much smoke as possible and large cloud of white, heated smoke immediately began to spread as the device worked itself to death to conceal the next move of Alec. With practiced swiftness the specialist threw his explosive disk at the police car and the moment it left his hand the two humans, closely mirrored by the sole asari, began to run left. The explosive impacted with the car, causing it to shake as the kinetic barriers couldn't disperse the shock wave, now they didn't just have to rely on the smoke disrupting the heat sensors of the vehicle. The explosion would cause enough confusion for them to make their get away. Up front Alec leaped over the railing and during his jump he reached for his pistol, sliding down the roof just as Redford repeated the motion behind him, throwing himself over the separation between the plaza and the glass ceiling. The moment he felt the glass underneath him, he started to what Alec had already begun doing a few moments ago.

Frantically emptying his weapon's magazine into the glass in front of him as he slid across the roof.

Alec was the first to have success as a bullet shattered the integrity of the glass below him, causing it to crack before the human vanished into the building. Redford heard the gunfire of the Spectre behind him, signaling that she had understood the general idea behind the maneuver, while he himself broke through the roof after a well timed round hit the glass in just the right spot. While falling, he looked down and realized that the ceiling had served the purpose of covering an indoors swimming pool from Illium's summer rainfalls. He braced himself for the inevitable impact with the water and once he connected with the surface, he started sinking. As his fall was slowed by the pool, he saw Alec dive up next to him and once his feet touched the floor, he pushed himself from the bottom of the pool so he'd be able to escape their exposed environment. On his way up, he saw another figure dive into the water and recognized her as Tela Vasir, her lack of armor causing her to sink not nearly as deep as him.

Redford relieved his vision of the blurred perspective caused by being underwater as he broke surface, small drops running down his visor while he began to swim towards the edge of the pool. When he came close, he reached for Alec's hand, who was already waiting for the others to leave the pool and the specialist pulled his fellow human out of the water before returning to observing the area with his submachine gun. The inside of the spa they were in tried to emulate a tropical setting, that much was clear. Decorative plants and rocks littered the area between the different sized pools, serving as potential hiding spots for enemies, while the walls were painted to mirror a clear midday horizon.

"That worked better than expected," Redford admitted as he tried to remove the water from his pistol by pointing it to the ground and allowing it run out of the barrel unobstructed. Even if the weapon could technically fire after being submerged, there was no reason to risk it.

"Did you even know that we'd land in a pool?" Vasir questioned as she pulled herself out of the pool, her clothes now soaked by their unexpected dive.

"Nope," both of them said in unison before Redford turned to Alec. "Let's get moving. They're bound to have figured out our little party trick by now. It's not that creative."

"You people are insane," the Spectre muttered as she checked her borrowed gun for damage.

Ignoring the comment, the second specialist rose from his kneeling position at the side of the pool and began moving up with Redford close on his trail, eyes scanning the false jungle. When they spotted none of their pursuers, the group began walking towards a window overlooking parts of Nos Astra, attempting to find a potential landing spot for their Kodiak. As they walked alongside the pool's edge, Redford took a closer look at their destination. The window separated the spa from a balcony, most likely used to sun bath, and there was definitely something below it, something that may just fit a Kodiak.

"They'll be here any minute," Tela Vasir said from behind them as her otherwise silent footsteps were betrayed by the sound of water dripping down her clothes.

"The doors should buy us some time," Alec reasoned.

"Nos Astra PD has override codes for every public building in the city. It doesn't matter if this place should be closed."

Just as she finished that line of thought, flash lights appeared in the dark of the spa and voices became audible. Three light cones moved through the darkness as police officers entered the bathing area through the door separating them from the dressing rooms. So much for buying time. The two specialists and the Spectre pressed themselves against the rocks separating the pool they had landed in from the rest of the spa as rays of light penetrated the decorative plants.

"Roof is broken. This could be the place," one police officer said as Redford risked a glance. The group that had just entered consisted six patrol officers, not nearly as armed as the unit they had just escaped from.

"Call it in," another voice, sounding slightly older, instructed as one of the light cones barely missed him.

He lifted his right hand towards Alec who was resting his back against one of the rocks on Redford's left and connected his pinky finger with his thumb, only showing the index, middle and ring finger. The specialist nodded as he undid the safety of his submachine gun. Redford then turned towards the asari and repeated the motion who stared at him in confusion, as she took a look at the group. Redford mentally smashed his hand into his face for believing that the asari would be used to the same hand signs as human forces and adapted. Instead of standardized HSA hand signs, he opted for once showing her all of his fingers and then reducing them to only his index finger, displaying the number six in a more time consuming but slightly simpler way.

Her nod confirmed that this got the point across.

"One patrol is closing in," the voice of Alec informed him via the comlink separated from the outside world.

Redford risked another peak and saw the light come close as he slid back to the side to prevent his left leg from being illuminated. The two police officers, apparently not completely focused on the task, and instead talking about a person Redford didn't even know, walked ever closer to their hiding spot until they were basically right on top of them, looking at the ceiling and making their light cone travel ever closer to the pool. If he wasn't mistaking, their light should soon reflect off the wet spots on the floor their small walk had created. They had to act now and his partner realised that just as much as him.

"I take one, you take one," Alec suggested, slowly lowering his submachine gun and moving one of his now free hands to his knife.

"Non lethal. They are just cops, mate," Redford urged him, ignoring Vasir's comment regarding their innocence. The specialist stopped the motion and instead prepared himself to restrain the asari officer.

"No need to cause an even bigger incident," he spoke through the helmet, inaudible for anyone but Alec before motioning for the Spectre to lower her gun which was already trained on one of the patrol officers.

"Hey, those look like foot steps," the one with the light said as the cone began to travel along the trail.

That was their signal.

"Engage," Redford called and instantly both Alec and he himself shot up, each grabbing one of the asari. In surprise, his target didn't resist much, only somewhat struggling until his fist found its way in her face, causing her to drop the flash light in her hand. He caught the falling tube just in time to stop it from connecting with the floor and set down the now stunned form of the police officer just as Alec finished choking out the other police officer. Apparently incapable of remembering her biotic abilities when confronted with a diminishing oxygen supply, the asari only glew purple for a short moment before her eyes rolled back. Alec dragged the body of the police officer behind the rock he had used for cover and leaned her body up against it in a way that would keep her out of the sight of her colleagues. When he turned back to Vasir to check on her, the Spectre to his right was gone, causing him to grunt before scanning the spa. After far too many seconds, he finally spotted her creeping up to a group that had walked up the the ally from the dressing rooms to the pool next to their own.

The two officers would only have to turn a little bit to actually spot her at his point and once his partner realised that, he lifted his submachine gun, not having complete faith in the Spectre. Unlike him Redford had seen this before. He placed his hand on the barrel of the M-83 as the asari began to glow purple, placing both of the officers in some form of stasis. Upon contact with the biotic fields they simply froze, not a single muscle giving as much of a twitch from it. The Spectre looked back at them and pointed into the direction of the last cone of light, causing Redford to shift his attention to the final patrol in the spa. Having split away from the other two couples, the two officers had walked into the opposite direction, instead investigating an area that reminded the specialist of some form of restaurant, presumably existing for the sole purpose of getting more money out of the guests.

He waved his hand at Vasir, trying to get her to turn back but she was already well on her way towards the last patrol.

"This isn't good," Alec commented as he once more got into cover behind his rock now shared with an unconscious police officer.

"Cover me," Redford nodded as he began to creep along the same route Vasir had taken. He took care to avoid making more sounds than necessary as he slowly closed in on the restaurant himself just as the Spectre was about to make a move. He closed the last few meters as fast as possible and caught her by the shoulder. She turned around and he shook his head at her, moving one of his fingers to his chest before pointing at the slightly bigger asari, her skin a shade of purple as far as he could tell in the dim light of her torch before he poked the Spectre and pointed at the other asari, trying to tell her that they should go with a synchronized takedown, instead of risking exposure by letting her do all the work.

She nodded, apparently understanding the simple sign language and Redford let go of her shoulder before moving into position.

The two asari were currently standing next to a table, the one with the flash light shining it into the visible parts of the service area, trying to figure out if someone was hiding behind the counter or not, while her partner seemed to keep an eye on the pool nex to them, both their backs facing into the direction of the two people slowly but surely sneaking up on them. The beam of light reflected of the glass and both the Spectre and Redford managed to avoid being seen in it until they rose up from their crouching approach. Redford saw the shocked expression on the face of his target as he forced her to the ground by stomping into her knee while throwing his arm around her. Purple bursts of biotic energy crackled on the skin of the alien police officer as blood quickly stopped flowing to her brain. Redford applied more pressure in hopes of avoiding a fight with a biotic, a numb feeling already crawling up his legs. He kept choking her as a thud echoed through the spa and as quickly as it had appeared, the feeling of not being able to move his legs vanished. He placed the unconscious asari in his hands on the floor and found a bleeding but still breathing police officer lying on his left.

"That could've gone wrong," he turned to the Spectre who had simply overpowered her target through pure force.

"It didn't," she shrugged while looking at her knuckles.

"I can't get you of Illium if you die, you know that?"

Redford didn't get a reply as the Spectre began to walk towards the balcony window. The specialist threw a glance to the injured cop and back to Tela Vasir before shaking his head. Returning to the window, the two shifted their attention to Alec who had already moved up to it and came to a halt slightly behind the other specialist.

"See that platform over there?" Alec pointed his still wet finger at the glass, causing small drops to run down the window. "Like it was made for a Kodiak."

"We'll have to cross the open area fast though. Their skycars are a huge advantage out there," Vasir argued as Redford looked at the proposed landing zone, which was by the looks of it an access area to some form of storage unit.

Alec backed away from the window and pulled his knife from his shoulder before turning it around, the small metal pin at its end which served as a glass breaker now pointing directly at the window. He smashed the metal pin into the glass, creating a noticeable crack in its surface. Unsatisfied with the result, he struck the crack again, causing the glass panel to crash to the floor. He sheathed the blade once more before using the barrel of his gun to remove the remaining pieces of glass from the frame. Normally Redford and him could simply walk through the shattered remains, small pieces of glass wouldn't be able to penetrate their hardsuits in any way, but Vasir didn't enjoy the privilege of either armor or cut resistant fabric. If she were to attempt such a feat, she'd most certainly be injured. Alec stepped through the window, entering the balcony area just as the lights of the spa turned on behind them.

"Looks like we got more company," he argued as Redford and Vasir followed him through the frame. They walked over to the edge of the balcony and looked down. It was situated roughly ten meters above a small shopping area and both specialists knew that such a drop may very well end badly for either of them. Redford looked back and saw figures clad in heavy armor move into the building.

"Special Response?" he asked, receiving a nod from Vasir. "Great."

The figures, apparently aware of the general area where the three fugitives would've dropped, spotted them just as Alec prepared a rope to descend from the balcony.

"No time for that," Vasir argued as Redford felt himself getting lighter, now engulfed by purple energy, before flying forward. He looked at Alec, who was now floating above the railing as well, and figured out Vasir's plan. The two humans shared looked at each other before they fell down the balcony, only coming to a sudden stop mere centimeters above the ground where the floated for a few moments. Then both he and Alec smashed face first into the ground as the biotic fields disappeared when an asari gracefully lowered herself from the higher spot, shouts of police officers echoing behind her. Vasir's feet touched the ground far softer than either of them and the Spectre jogged over to them.

"Hastings, requesting evac at my coordinates, you're looking for a cargo platform, over," he heard Alec mutter next to him while Redford placed his hands on the ground and pushed himself up at once, neither of wasting the breath to complain about the uneasy end of their little flight. After getting to his feet Alec, Vasir and him started to run towards the platform. "Shuttle should be here any minute."

The specialist heard the heavy foot steps close in from the balcony behind them and without even as much of a warning, the cracking of gun fire broke out behind them. Granted, they were armed and dangerous fugitives who had assaulted several officers already but as he continued his dash, rounds not only impacting in the ground around him but also making contact with his shields, but a warning would've still been nice.

He spent a short moment considering if his shields would hold for the last part of the dash or if he should deploy another smoke screen to avoid being shot in the back but before he could come to a conclusion, he saw something familiar. A purple ripple smashed into Alec, catapulting him to the side and away from the cargo platform. He came to a stop instantly, lifting his pistol just in time to see an asari in heavy armor descend on his partner. She managed to smash her fist, glowing with biotic energy, into Alec's ribcage exactly once before another purple streak gave her a taste of her own medicine. While the Spectre charged at the police officer ,which he now recognized as the one that had taken part in plotting against them, he opted for sliding behind a piece of cover, reaching it just as a red warning began to flash in his HUD. Choosing to ignore the voice that was telling him that he should be dead, he threw the last smoke grenade at the balcony, effectively blocking the view of the Special Response Unit, before beginning his run towards Alec.

While Redford made a move for the other specialist, Vasir tackled the armored police officer, stunning her with the impact and causing her to move away from the fallen human. The two asari fighters began to come to blows, the Spectre making up for her lack of armor by simply being faster than her opponent and dodging all of her opening strikes. The police officer threw a biotic fueled kick into her way, only to find nothing but air as the Spectre side stepped her and during the motion releasing her own series of strikes into the heavier armor of her opponent. While the layers of kinetic protection absorbed some of the punishment, the force of the impacts still showed on the asari's face as she twisted around, trying to get a hook to connect with Vasir, who simply slipped below the punch in a practiced motion.

He wasn't an expert in either asari fighting styles or biotics but from his perspective the skill gap between the corrupt police officer and the Spectre was rather evident.

Vasir capitalized on the fact that the hook had placed the other asari in a bad spot and her right hand began to glow purple, increasing the force of what was about to come. She used the momentum of the motion and naturally translated it into a hook aimed at the area where a human would have his kidneys. The punch connected and by the sound of it cracked the armor of the police officer, causing her to lean forward in pain. But the Spectre wasn't done. She once more applied the energy created by her move to her next strike, her left hand glowing as the uppercut broke the asari's skull just as Redford reached Alec side. The body hit the ground as the Spectre turned away from her now dead foe, paying no attention to the nearly decapitated corpse.

"That was the 'evil boss' you talked about," she explained, apparently feeling like she need to justify her actions to Redford, who now grabbed his comrade just as a green vessel began to break out of Illium's traffic, disrupting the flow of skycars above them by breaking just about every basic traffic rule.

Mass accelerator fire from the police officers, provoked by the death of their superior, began to pour on his position as the asari left the cloud of smoke Redford had put between them, his shields starting to flash red once more as he dragged an unconscious Alec back to the shuttle. The small box in his HUD, informing him of the imminent collapse of his protective bubble, suddenly turned silent just as he considered throwing Alec into the shuttle before leaping after him. Redford looked behind himself and saw the Spectre slowly back up with him, facing the balcony now swarmed with police officers of the Special Response Unit, a purple barrier shattering every single round being fired at them. The green Kodiak touched down, doors already open for the three passengers, and Redford somewhat threw the injured Alec into it before climbing inside and borrowing the submachine gun to return fire towards the asari that were steadily closing in on them. Vasir, the strain of keeping the barrier up noticeable on her face, threw herself backwards the moment she felt the shield of the Kodiak take the impacts for her and landed inside the crew compartment. He smacked a button that sealed the door just as several officers made a run towards the shuttle.

"Go!" Redford shouted to the pilot looking at them from his seat. The moment the words left his mouth, the shuttle began to rise and Redford managed to secure Alec and himself just in time to avoid being thrown into the back of the vessel by the hard climb it began through Illium's traffic. As he was pressed into the seat, taking care to ignore the skycars only narrowly missing them, he noticed a positive consequence of this rather insane evacuation.

It managed to wake up Shepard.

As his body told him he was rapidly moving, his head shooting up from the place Redford had strapped him in and the specialist looked around the shuttle, noting that both his colleague and the package of said colleague were present, visibly relieved.

"Getting slow?" Redford chuckled.

"God damn that's gonna hurt" he sighed as his hand reached for his ribs.

"Hastings has a Medbay you know?" Redford argued before throwing a glance at hsi watch. "Harper wants us at Arcturus in a couple hours, you could easily get treated," It was true, Harper had informed him that he should retrieve the package and deliver her to Arcturs, not Cronos Station. 'We can't just let a potentially hostile agent walk around Cerberus's and Section 13's headquarters,' his former superior turned director of Cerberus had reasoned while explaining why he was asking Redford to go to Illium.

"I'm not letting her out of my sight until we drop her off at Arcuturs," his partner countered. "Now that she's off of Illium, we don't know what she's going to do."

"I did just save you from death at the hands of a corrupt police chief," Tela Vasir shrugged. "Doesn't that earn me a little faith?"

"She's right you know?" Redford joined in. "Totally saved your ass there."

"Not even going to change out of my armor," Shepard protested as he folded his arms. "For the next few hours, I'll be her shadow."

"And I thought I was paranoid," Vasir rolled her eyes.

* * *

 **2130 CE, Arcturus Station, Security Hub**

"Congratulations!" 'Bradford' shouted as the shuttle with the other human specialist shot off into the direction of a hospital after dropping them off on top of a military installation aboard their space station. Roughly ten minutes ago, the human who had previously claimed to become her shadow had received a message, saying that his bond mate would give birth any time now.

The building within the space station shared the same grey metal look of the insides of human vessels, one of the only differences being its size and the artificial blue sky hanging over it. It reminded her of the Presidium, only the lack of skycars traveling through the air and the choice of architecture setting the two places apart. Instead of civilian traffic, only a few military shuttles flew between the large buildings around them and instead of the smooth, almost clinically white design of the Presidum, the area around them was angular and uniform grey. The stretch between the landing pad and the entrance to the building was rather short and she could already see the armed guards moving to meet them half way to the entrance. The guards wore a lighter sort of armor and she noted the fact that both of them were also carrying batons along their sidearms, forgoing the typical human assault rifle and helmets in favour of a more approachable appearance.

"He's waiting for you, Sir," one of the guards addressed her human companion. "Level Seven, Room 718," she saw how he reached for handcuffs. This was bound to happen, no point in fighting it.

"Thank you Lance Corporal," the specialist shook his head, "but I don't think those will be necessary. I will accompany our guest for the duration of her stay."

"Sir," the human soldier said as he stepped aside, allowing them to enter the building.

Apparently her companion carried more authority than she had assumed.

They came closer to the door as the specialist's armored feet made a metallic sound every time he took another step. The door ahead of them opened as they moved to it only to reveal nothing but an empty elevator cabin. He held up the watch still included in his armored gauntlet and the red light turned blue as a device on the wall and the device on his wrist exchanged beams of light.

"Section 13 clearance recognized," a disembodied voice said. "Override accepted."

Then the elevator doors shut close and it began to move downwards.

Very fast.

Caught of guard by the rapid motion she instinctively grabbed on to a rail attached to the wall while her companion simply didn't move, already expecting the speed at which the elevator began its descend. As fast as it had started the journey, she felt it slow down on the level which the display over the door called 'seven'. The door hissed open and she got blinded by very bright, very white light. What was it with humans and bright, white lamps? Did they simply enjoy torturing their eyes or had they grown insensible to their output?

"You good?" the human asked as he realised that she had stopped for a second.

"Asari are much more sensible to bright light than you are," she explained as she brought a hand between her eyes and the lamp. "Our pupils don't adapt as well to brightness like yours do, they can't decrease the amount of light as fast or as effective as yours can," she explained. "it's why most asari lamps are slightly blue, they are not as bright as this."

"And here I thought it was a fashionable reason. Look on the bright side, evolution gave you biotics." the human chuckled at his own pun, unaware of the issue and ignoring the majority of things she had just said.

"I'll just ignore that horrible joke," she replied, slowly adjusting to the light as she followed the specialist through the hallway while they passed by numerous rooms. They all looked identical, expect for the small difference of the numbers written on the doors.

"Well if it's any consolation, in here it's way darker," he said as he came to a hold in front of room '718'. 'Bradford' placed his hand on the door handle and opened the door for her, revealing a simple interview room instead of the holding cell she had expected. Vasir stepped into the room, which really was less bright than the hallway, and heard the door shut behind her, her human companion closing it while still on the outside. She waited for the sound of it getting locked but when it never came, she decided to look around.

Then she noticed the human sitting at the table in the middle of the room.

"Please, sit," he said and she immediately noticed how his eyes simply looked incredibly 'inhuman'. Three small blue dots circled a black pupil, already a very unnatural combination and structure for an eye, and when she realised that there was a slight glow to them, her analytic mind told her that they were most likely cybernetics. Only quarian eyes were bioluminescent. She reached for the chair and pulled it from under the table so she could sit down on it as the human lit a cigarette on fire.

"I'm the friend who'd like to have that 'little chat' with you," he explained as a grey smoke cloud left his mouth.

"Do you expect me to thank you for getting me of Illium?" she asked for a moment before figuring that she should just get to the reason why someone had been sent after her in the first place. "I know that you want what I have on your people."

"While I am certainly interested in retrieving the data cache you stole from under our noses, I am much more interested in how you'll be able to help me prove that you're not responsible for the Eclipse and Blood Pack attacks last year."

"Why would you want to help me prove that?" she asked. From a pragmatic point of view it made sense that the humans would want a face to blame, after all they had been fighting a war with mercenaries for months, a war which had yet to claim the person responsible for the reason it was being fought. Here she was, the face to blame. Even if she was innocent, why should they care? As far as most people were concerned, she wasn't.

"I managed to follow the trail the master mind behind all of this left right up to the Citadel," he said, causing her to consider just how he had done so. "And you are the missing piece. Either you actually went rogue, which I doubt, or someone is pulling your strings. All of this started with you stealing that cache, I need to know who did it."

He probably expected her to cover for the culprit and she probably would've done so if Tevos hadn't decided to sent STG after her.

"Councilor Tevos," she said nonchalantly. "Black mailed me into stealing it, delivered the cache and then told the last salarian councilor how she's going to make the turians hate you by showing them your weakness. My guess is that she used the data on the cache to plan the attacks."

The human lifted an eyebrow at that, as surprised as she had expected him to be.

"Can you proof those claims?"

Vasir lifted her arm and brought up the omni-tool, bringing up one of the recordings she had made and illuminating the room, allowing her to get a better look at the man in front of her. He wore a black uniform and unlike her companion, his hair was brown and combed backwards.

"By provoking humanity to attack some of the most established factions in the Terminus Systems we'll make them pick a fight that will show the Hierarchy that the humans are not nearly as strong as the turians make them out to be. Adding to that we will take steps destabilize them by giving their separatists something to rally behind," the voice of Councilor Tevos echoed through the room devoid of anything but a table and two chairs.

"Councilor offices are quite easy to bug if you're one of the Spectres supposed to prevent them from being bugged," the asari explained. "She thought she could black mail me, she didn't think that someone would do the same to her," Tela shrugged before a smirk appeared on her face. "Originally I wanted to use this to get her to back off, now I'd love to see it ruin her life."

"We are going to need to proof that this isn't a forged recording," the human said as his eyes narrowed.

"Do whatever you must," Tela said as the orange hologram disappeared. "If I'm going down, I'm taking her with me."

"I believe we are going to have a very lucrative partnership, Ms. Vasir."

* * *

 **2\. May 2388 AD, Citadel, Office of Councilor Ioventus**

"This is outrageous," the turian voice flanged. "How could she betray the principles of the council like this?" his talons dug into his table, a very sure sign of turian anger.

"And as my last point, I need to inform you that we'll keep Agent Vasir in custody until further notice," Ambassador Goyle flinched ever so slightly as the turian got up from his now damaged table, long scratch marks now clearly visible on its surface. There was something strange about seeing the usually collected Ioventus this angry.

"Excuse my demeanor, Ambassador Goyle," he said as he straightened his clothing while his talons visibly retracted. "Councilor Tevos and I hardly ever saw eye to eye on anything but I always thought I could trust her to act in the interest of the Citadel Council. This is very worrying news."

"I understand, Councilor Ioventus."

"I need to send this to C-Sec and the Spectres," the turian said as he turned to look out his window. "Truthfully, I hoped that Vasir was guilty, the revelation that both my former colleague and Tevos plotted against the politics of the Hierarchy is not something I look forward to telling the Primarchs," he shook his head. "She'll be punished by the laws of the Council."

"Chancellor Noé expected you'd say that." Goyle replied, "but the HSA would like to have her transferred into our hands as soon as possible."

"It is not possible, Ambassador."

"She ordered the deaths of thousands of humans."

"And for that you have my condolences but the law is absolute on matters like these. Should any member of the Council, C-SEC, the Spectres or any other related institution breaks the laws they swore to uphold, they will be punished by the Citadel Council's supreme court, not the party they wronged or the party they served."

"Our people are demanding justice, Councilor," Goyle replied.

"The Council will deliver your justice for them, Ambassador. I will make sure of that."

"It's also about being the one's to deliver it," she said.

"That I can not give you," he sighed. "Now I'd ask you to leave but I already know that you will want to be there when she gets arrested."

* * *

 **2130 CE, THS Silus**

"We'll drop along side the mechanized elements of the THS Ultus and execute the raid. They will provide perimeter security for this operation," the briefing officer said as Saren looked at the map of the planet. "Our target is Elanos Haliat," he went as the picture of the turian came up on the briefing screen. The turian's brown plated skin was scared by previous engagements and the only thing Saren recognized in the picture were the green facial marks of a taetrian and the eye piece covering the left side of his face.

Standard turian military equipment.

"Formerly known as Captain Haliat of the 26th Armiger Legion, he apparently got a better offer from someone outside the Hierarchy. He killed half his platoon, abandoned his post during an engagement with pirates and to top it all of joined said pirate group along the way.´," Saren's mandibles twitched in anger as his crimes were listed. There were few thing worse than treason and cowardice. Especially in service of the Hierarchy.

"He's considered armed, dangerous and expendable, if you get a shot at him, take it. You'll leave first thing tomorrow morning, get something in your stomachs and hit the barracks. Questions?" the officer finished and let the words linger in the room for a minute. "Alright. Dismissed."

The cabal platoon rose from their seats as the lights turned back on and Saren followed Bassilo Kandros out of the room, itching to continue the conversation they had before being summoned.

"So how is she?"

"Words can't describe it Saren," the older turian chuckled. "It's amazing, you have to have one of your own to understand it."

"It's hard to imagine you actually found someone willing to father your offspring, Kandros," Hepsus injected as he extended a hand to Bassilo. "I didn't get the chance yet, congratulations," the recently turned father turian took the hand and shook it.

"I am sure you will find someone eventually Hepsus. It's as easy as booting an omni-tool really."

"Yes I have fai- Hey!" he interrupted himself as he noticed the jab at his technical skills. "Rude!"

"You did walk right into that one, Hepsus."

"I guess, still hurts though," the turian shook his head.

"We both know it doesn't."

"You got me there Arterius."

The three cabals began their walk towards the cafeteria to get some meat between their teeth and navigated the halls of the dreadnought as they ignored the few looks some of the less disciplined regulars threw into their paths.

"Am I the only one who thinks it's weird that they are sending a dreadnought and a platoon of cabals reinforced by a mechanized company after a bunch of pirates led by a deserter?"

"You heard the briefing officer, we're the one's closest to him. Stop questioning orders, Hespus. You're too good of a turian to do that," Bassilo replied. "You spent too much time on the extranet, not everything is a conspiracy."

"I consider myself a smart turian, which is precisely why I am suspicious of this guy. Something just feels wrong about all of this. Armiger Legion or not, those are a lot of troops for one guy."

Saren chuckled at that. "Didn't think you'd get this nervous over a regular raid."

"Saren is right, Hepsus. Don't overthink this, it's nothing. The reason behind going in in force are the pirates he joined, not Haliat."

"We are talking about a decorated turian officer from one of the most prestigious units in the Hierarchy that just suddenly decided to desert? Doesn't sound right to me."

"The mind of a traitors are strange ones," Bassilo offered. "That's what makes them so dangerous."

The door to the cafeteria opened with a hiss to reveal dozens of turians in the process of either eating or still waiting for their food. The three cabals got into line to wait for their turn and Hepsus continued his line of thought as he grabbed one of the plates on his left.

"We've never had mechanized support when raiding a pirate base," the turian started. "Why now?"

"Since when do we complain about getting mechanized support?" Saren countered with a chuckle.

"You know I am right, Arterius, something about this is off."

"Do I?"

The line moved up and Saren grabbed the first meal he could, not really bothering to see what it actually was, serving in a special operations unit made you less picky every day As long as it was food, he'd eat it. He grabbed a bottle filled with juice and went for the first empty table he saw. After all, their fellow turians tended to avoid cabals as much as possible and the cabals themselves didn't feel the need to cause tension by interacting with them more than needed either. Bassilo and Hepsus followed him and soon more of their fellow cabals joined them at their table, beginning to eat. The conversation about hidden meaning behind the amount of force they deployed died down as Hepsus mouth got occupied with tearing meat apart and Saren saw no reason to remind him of the subject while he enjoyed his food.

The cabals finished their meal and left as a group, their destination the separate barracks assigned to them. While turian regulars slept in the crew quarters located on the same deck as the cafeteria, the cabals enjoyed no such luxury, instead being placed in quarters closer to the drive core, away from the majority of non-biotic combat personal or personal in general. Saren got used to the humming of the core, every cabal did so eventually. Otherwise they wouldn't be able to sleep during their duty rotations on naval ships. The group only passed by a few engineers on their way down, one of them actually acknowledging their existence with a short nod towards them, and reached their barracks shortly after.

He climbed into his bed and prepared to drift off to sleep, repeating the briefing in his head as a way to do so easier. Some counted, Saren analyzed details. The planet they were going to deploy to was located a few light years outside Hierarchy space and the pirate gang they'd be fighting against wouldn't have any sort of heavy artillery, just a few possible biotics and outdated military gear, maybe a few gunships if they were unlucky. They'd be made up of several races, their basecamp would most likely not be very fortified and the mechanized company should be more than capable of providing cover for the cabals as they pushed. The chance of completing the assault without casualties was actually pretty high, which of course was a good thing, especially for the cabals who'd take the brunt of enemy fire during their push into the camp. He went over the planned attack strategy and imagined every detail of the mission.

Until he came to the part he and Hepsus had argued about.

Elanos Haliat, his brown plated face,the heavy scars and the green facial marks appearing before Saren's eyes as he recalled the name. He repeated the talk about how Hepsus thought something was off about him in his head. The cabal might have been a little bit slow with an omni-tool but his gut feeling was usually right. Realising that he wouldn't be able to catch a single minute of sleep before putting his mind at ease, he opened his omni-tool and punched the name into the service records of the Hierarchy, only accessible to him due to a few tricks he had picked up in his time with the cabals and the fact that his oldest brother either didn't care about the security of his access codes or chose to allow Saren's 'private investigations'.

The file appeared in front of him and he began to read.

It wasn't anything special at first glance. Haliat had completed his regular service of fifteen years, as expected of any healthy turian and after its conclusion, like any career soldier, Haliat had applied for life-time service, being accepted due to 'exemplary service in the line of duty'. A file was attached to said commendation and Saren tried to access it only to be hit by a notification telling him that his clearance wasn't high enough to do so, throwing him back to Haliat's record.

Strange.

Normally career officers stayed in their legions and ,while a renowned unit, nothing the 26th had done could be beyond Saren's 'borrowed' security clearance. They were shock troops but they were also regulars. Even as a cabal he enjoyed a higher level of classification than the Armiger Legion.

He decided to try another angle, read the record and go on from there.

Elanos Haliat, Service Number 20920102-HE-26921, accepted as a lieutenant trainee in 2119CE, Saren did the math in his head. So Haliat had been sent to the officer training course during his regular fifteen years of service, this was anything but normal. No regular legion, especially one as prestigious as the Armiger Legion, would require to fast track a conscript into the officer corps in the time of peace, far more experienced soldiers applied for these positions. Why was he already training to be an officer during his obligatory term of service?

Saren went back in time. Maybe there was something he had missed.

Elanos Haliat, born on Taetrus in 2092 CE to a middle-class family with the highest level any of his ancestors had ever reached being the 12th tier of citizenship. His father was a maintenance technician and his mother a nurse in a military hospital. The turian had two sisters and he himself was the first born son and sole heir to his family's name when his father died during an accident in the power plant he worked at when Elanos was only eleven years old. From there on his life had been tough, his mother falling ill after a botched decontamination and putting the family into a position where they had to depend on the Hierarchy's veteran care until Haliat himself could provide for them.

In spite of his situation, Elanos Haliat was one of the few turians that scored a 'perfect 100' on their tests upon entering boot camp, something even Saren hadn't done so at first. Which was strange not only because everybody learned something in boot camp which their fathers hadn't been able to teach them but also because Haliat's father had died long before turian parents usually started preparing their children for the obligatory service. Saren kept reading and recognized a very familiar digit in the year 2108, a digit also present in his service record. '084', the number of the process known as 'fast tracking'.

Someone had recognized the fact that Haliat was way above his fellow trainees and had sent him to a combat unit, claiming he had learned all he could learn in basic training. With sixteen years, Haliat began taking part in operations against slavers, pirates and even turian separatists, climbing through the ranks at a near impossible speed and his superiors pointing out his bravery, talent for leadership and tenacity time and again. This explained why he had been accepted as an officer trainee within his obligatory term of service, by all means Elanos Haliat bore the resume of someone that would be described as having performed 'exemplary service', even by turian standards. But none of this answered why Saren couldn't access the file attached to Haliat's latest commendation. Desolas clearance should be more than sufficient, after all the first born of his father was already on his way to climb into the 20th tier of citizenship, commanding his own legion after nearly twenty five years of service.

Surely there had to be a logical explanation for that?

He kept reading Haliat's service record and the resume continued, several combat deployments with Armiger Legion, several commendations for 'bravery above and beyond the call of duty'. Then in 2118 CE there was another digit, a transfer order, Haliat had been ordered away from the Armiger Legion and back to Palaven.

But why?

He decided to employ a little trick a fellow cabal had thought him and with the press of a button and anoter entry of Desolas' clearance codes, a sigil appeared in front of Saren. He instinctivly read the sentence written below it, not noticing the details on the sigil at first.

'From the shadows we preserve the light.'

A tingling climbed through his spine.

"What you looking at, Arterius?" Hepsus asked from below, woken by the orange glow of the omni-tool. "Is it the medical assistant from Palaven?"

"No, just checking the time. Sleep well, Hepsus," he lied.

"Alright, see you in the morning, Arterius," the turian replied.

The black, angular shield, a single golden Mexta, an old sword created by the turians native to Palaven's mountains, crossing from the top left corner to the bottom right, disappeared as soon as Saren shut down his omni-tool.

This couldn't be possible. He must have dug into the wrong record by mistake.

* * *

 **Four Hours Later**

"Rise and shine cabals!" Kabalim Vitallion declared as the bright light awoke Saren from a surprisingly dreamless but short night. "Time to get to fighting!"

He pushed himself out of the bed and his feet met the cold metal ground of the dreadnought's interior, sending chills through his body but also serving to wake him up completely while reminding him of his late night investigation on their target.

"Grab some ration bars on your way out and get your asses into gear. We're going hunting!" the already armored squad leader declared as his unit began to dress.

The sole advantage of the cabals being separated from the rest of the turians was that they were given the responsibility of storing their own gear. This meant that Saren could start the familiar process of putting on the modular armor, something they were jokingly supposed to be able to do in the complete darkness while under fire and not being able to breath due to a chemical attack having its impact on their bodies at the same time. The cabals were one of the few units that actually lived up to being able to do that as the past had proven. He finished the diagnostic run on his armor as his omni-tool linked itself to his helmet and soon afterwards every cabal was ready to go. They lined up in the room and when Vitallion gave the signal, they started marching forward. When he walked out of the room, grabbing the ration bars as he was told, he already heard Hepsus eat the first one on the way to the shuttle.

"I didn't have any breakfast," he stated as Saren's head, now obscured by the cabal's helmet, turned to look at the turian who held one of the bars at his mouth while the other hand carried his Phaeston rifle.

"Just don't choke on it when the shuttle enters atmosphere," Bassilo offered from behind Hepsus. "Like you did last time."

"It happened once!" Hepsus said. "When are you going to let me live that one down?"

"Never," the older turian whispered as the door to the hangar opened up and the cabals walked to their assigned transports. The engines of the shuttle's already coming to live as Saren's armored foot connected with the interior of the white craft, allowing him to step inside. He sat down and went over his rifle once more. Everything checked out on the Phaeston. Repeating the process on his Carnifex, he found it as well maintained as he had left it. Kabalim Vitallion was the last one to enter their shuttle and just as the door closed, Saren's HUD informed him that the other squads had boarded their transports as well. The shuttle began to lift of as the he heard the alarms on the outside informing the staff of the hangar bay that it would soon vent atmosphere. When the alarms died down, their transport began it's journey to the pirate base.

Saren pushed the thoughts that had kept him awake last night into the back of his mind. There had been a glitch in the system or the trick he had been shown hadn't worked. Haliat was just an unexpected deserter who, corrupted by the notion of money, had turned one everything he had ever stood for.

It was just a regular raid. No reason to become nervous.

How wrong his own statement would feel to him in the hours to come.

* * *

 _Codex: Turian Military Service_

 _By law every turian citizen that is able in body and mind is required to enter basic training in the 15th year of their life and spent the next fifteen years in the service of the Hierarchy. Basic training, covering not only military subjects like fire arms instructions and squad tactics but also serving as the last stage of any turians public education, takes three years and is sometimes compared to human military schools on Terra Nova. As a way to quickly utilize the full potential of remarkable trainees, turians that display an unnatural talent and level of education may be fast tracked out of basic training and into a combat outfit under Directive-1112-084. This directive is also used to reassign turian biotics into the Cabal Corps._

 _Until the arrival of the HSA, which still claims the right to draft its citizens in case of armed conflict, the Turian Hierarchy remained the sole galactic government body to conscript its population, t_ _he Salarian Union and the Asari Republics having abolished their own draft laws after massive casualties in the Krogan Rebellions and the Rachni Wars, other races following their example. Furthermore the turian draft causes the Hierarchy to have the lowest age requirement that has to be met before someone can legally_ _enlist in their military, the HSA being a close second with every soldier having to be at least seventeen years old before being allowed to enlist._

 _It should be noted that unlike in the HSA Armed Forces, which requires all of its soldiers to be human, turian military service is not limited to turians. Any individual that meets the standards set by Turian Hierarchy may enlist for fifteen years of their life, earning the turian citizenship upon completion. Currently four percent of the Hierarchy's soldiers are of non-turian origin, making them the most racially diverse military in the galaxy._

 _Other governments have long since criticized the Hierarchy for training 'child soldiers' with asari voices for example calling the practice outdated and batarians being offended at the notion that everyone is allowed to enlist due to the fact that their caste society limits military service to certain castes._

 _The HSA has since stood as the sole government supporting the practice, reasoning that any fifteen year old turian is considered a legal adult and as such eligible for military service._

* * *

 **A/N: First of, I didn't update in the last few weeks to finishing my A-levels. Sorry about that but school had priority. I'll be able to invest more time now though, the worst is behind me.**

 **I don't have much more to say though, as of right now the story is at 224 follows and 172 favs. That's amazing guys, I really hope this chapter is enough to make up for my 'absence'. We'll soon be moving into the future a bit so stay tuned!**

 **Coming up next, more Saren. I like writing that guy.**

 **Edit: As of 30.7.17 Chapter 10 has been remastered.**

 **Once more fixed some very conflicting phrasing that made it seem like Harper does way more than he actually does.**

 **Also added a few words to make the scenes flow better.**

 **Also added a little justification as to why the HSA stands with the practice in the codex.**

 **See you around next time.**


	11. We Preserve The Light

**Chapter 11. We Preserve The Light**

* * *

 **2130 CE, Unclaimed World 'Tunea-Prime'**

The shaking when a transport broke atmosphere at high speeds was something one never quite got used to, sure some didn't show it as much as others but deep down everyone had the thought that the craft would give in to the force causing the soldiers inside it to burn up along its wreckage. Saren clutched his rifle a little bit tighter as the rattling moved up to his teeth and he pressed himself into the seat. At least the speed of deployment lowered the chance of the shuttle simply being shot down by surface-to-air weapons. If it meant getting to the ground in one piece, Saren could endure the unpleasant way down.

The turian shuttle began to slow down and Saren's direct superior, Kabalim Vitallion, removed his harness and grabbed a sling attached to the ceiling of the crew compartment with one hand before pulling himself up. Following his example the rest of the unit undid the locks on the devices keeping them in place and prepared to leave the craft.

Turian doctrine was rather clear on air deployments, in order to minimize the time in the landing zone and exposure to enemy fire, the shuttle would not even touch down unless the area was already cleared, instead only flying along the ground at a height that would allow the troops it was carrying a rather safe drop. This had the advantage of the craft being able to immediately begin a sharp climb, away from any potential fire or the risk of blowing the soldiers it had just dropped up along side itself in the event of a hit.

In accordance to said doctrine, Saren jumped out of the door as his helmet blocked the bright light of the sun rising in the distance. His feet touched the ground and the cabals rallied to their squad leader as he heard the whine of a frigate's air brakes deploying to allow the mechanized support to drop. The duo of Jiris IFVs dropped out of the hangar of the frigate just as another began a similar maneuver. Their perimeter security was moving into position.

The cabals began to rally around their leader and Saren could make out the outlines of tents, colonial prefabs and vehicles on the hill ahead. The position was chosen well, the hill would allow the defenders to pin anyone that tried to take it from them in the barren land around it. A barren land that had been created by force if the ashes around the camp and the few remaining tree stumps were anything to go by.

"Orbital scans show no explosives on the climb, heat signature scan on the camp is inconclusive." Vitallion informed his squad as they joined him at the line of trees which had survived the forceful clearing, his armor already slightly blacker due to the wind transporting ash into their direction.

"The clearings fresh," Bassilo said as placed a hand on the black stained ground. "It's still hot," he withdrew the palm as he undid the seal on his helmet. "Does anyone else smell this?"

"Like someone welded two plates of metal," another cabal said as he revealed his green marked, grey-plated face to the air and distinctive smell.

"Strange," Bassilo replied. "Doesn't smell like any explosive I ever encountered. Kabalim?"

"We'll be the second squad to cross, time to focus," Vitallion replied as he lifted his rifle to look at the camp and the way ahead of them. "I don't like this. Suggestions?"

"This reeks like an ambush, Kabalim," one of the cabals interjected as he took position to cover the first squad. This was one of the things Saren liked about serving in a special purpose unit, the individual soldier was able to discuss matters with their leaders. Regulars were simply expected to fall in line with their superiors. The cabals had to rely on every set of eyes, their assignments required as much.

"Aganian's right," Hepsus said. "Inconclusive heat scan, kill zone, I'd rather call a couple Jiris to take point."

"Can't do that, they are bound to perimeter security. We can't do our job if they just shoot us in the back. Especially because the scan of the camp sight turned out inconclusive we can't risk it," Vitallion explained.

"Slow advance with full powered barriers?" another cabal proposed. "If we draw fire, we can hunker down while we eliminate the threat. Since there's nothing buried on the way to the camp, we won't get blown up while walking up."

"But we'd spent a lot of time in the killzone, if the enemy has anti-biotic weapons we'd be annihilated."

"Kabalim Vitallion, this is Kabalim Barscus," the leader of the first squad that would cross voiced. "We are preparing to cross the clearing, are your soldiers in position?"

"Affirmative Barscus," Vitallion replied as Saren turned his attention back to his rifle and away from the discussion. Kneeling down usually had the advantage of stabilizing one's aim, yet he found himself somewhat shaking as the image of a single black patch with a golden Mexta visualized itself in his brain.

"Anything on your mind?" Hepsus asked from his left, adjusting the sights on his Phaeston.

"It's nothing," Saren said after a moment, choosing to stay quite. After all it was simply a mistake, a wrong turn in his personal, very unsanctioned investigation.

The cabals of Barscus's squad began to move away from the tree line and Saren saw their dark grey armors glimmering in the light of the sun rise. The unit advanced slowly but steadily under the cover of their allies and began the climb.

"If they are going to launch an ambush, it's going to happen now," Vitallion said. His words caused Saren to tense up, expecting the universe to reward said statement with a hidden explosion and the death of the entire squad.

The universe only delivered one of these events.

A detonation rocked the forest behind Saren as his radio came to live, the line originating from the perimeter security.

"We got contact. One Jiris down," the commander of the mechanized element informed him just as the sound of heavy mass accelerator fire echoed through the forest as the IFVs returned fire, their target not visible to Saren due to the trees blocking his line of sight.

"Cabals continue with the attack on the camp," the overall commander, he himself within the safety of the Silus' hull, ordered. "5th Mechanized will deal with the ambush on their own."

Yet another explosion followed by a casualty report drowned out anything else he had to say. "Spirits what is that thi-," the line was replaced by static.

"Kabali-" Bassilo began.

"You heard the Colonel, we continue the mission," he shot the interruption down and Saren tore his eyes away from the smoke clouds rising above their perimeter security.

"This is Barscus, we've reached the edge," Saren spotted the grey kabalim and his squad waiting at a wall of one of the bigger prefabs of the camp. "Lot of smoke above 5th." he informed them.

"Copy that, we'll cross now," the Kabalim replied. "Alright third squad, double time it!" he ordered and Saren shot to his feet, following his leader across the clearing as fast as his legs would carry him. The cabals cleared the killzone in record time and Saren turned around and took a knee, finally able to see the smoke rising behind them.

"The remaining two squads should get up here as fast as possible." he heard Vitallion inform the leader of their platoon, Lieutenant Kamur. "Affirmative." he replied to the unheard voice on the restricted command channel. "We're going into the camp now, the other half of the platoon are moving to assist 5th."

"I though they could handle it?" Hepsus questioned.

"Cut the trash talk, cabal. Barscus you'll clear this prefab, we'll move around the tents," Vitallion ordered the younger Kabalim who gave his elder a nod before his squad prepared to break down the door.

The sound of the battle their perimeter security was currently fighting was once more dominated by an explosion of an unfortunate Jiris and Saren could make out the weapon that had fired the shot, a red-black smoke trail still visible from a plateau situated in front of the rising sun, a well chosen position, even with the light blocking visors, the height and sun would give the shooters enough time to withdraw.

Saren saw how mass accelerator fire smashed into the very same spot the missile had just appeared from.

Or not.

A smirk crossed his face as he felt satisfied at the notion of the crew being avenged.

He moved behind Hepsus as the squad of cabals turned the corner of the prefab and began to move up to the several tents located between this prefab and the smaller one on the other end of the camp. He pointed his Phaeston at the first tent as Hepsus tore it open.

"Empty." he declared so his squad would hear him before moving inside. A single field bed and some bottles of water and cans of food were the only things visible inside the tent as of right now. However Hepsus, experienced by past raids, pulled the covers of the bed and bent down to look underneath it, his Phaeston pointing at the gap between bed and ground.

He reached for something under the bed and Saren saw him pull out the helmet of a turian, red marks drawn on the side.

"Why would they leave that here, if they are going to attack us?" Saren asked him as Hepsus threw the object on the bed before pulling out an old Mantis sniper rifle.

"This doesn't make any sense," Hepsus says as he produced a bandoleer of grenades from the hidden stash of weapons. "Kabalim Vitallion, I'm looking at a small arsenal over here."

"Not just you," his superior radioed back. "I'm currently facing a batarian gunship, hidden in an underground hangar. Beaten up but still functional."

"Why aren't they using this stuff?"

"No fuel maybe?" Vitallion replied. "Keep searching."

The two moved out of the tent just as Bassilo and another cabal left theirs.

"This is beyond weird," Bassilo's partner replied.

"No kidding," Aganian muttered as he emerged from a third tent and set a beaten but very much functional heavy machine gun to the ground. "This is a lot of hardware that should be used right now."

"You heard the Kabalim, keep searching," Bassilo said as he pointed at another, bigger tent. "Let's make our way through there."

"Third squad be advised," Barscus suddenly radioed. "We've got dead pirates behind the prefab. Claw marks, lots of blue blood. Watch out for wild life."

"Maybe they got attacked by their own varren? Pirates like to use them for terror tactics, could be they forgot to feed them? " Aganian suggested as he pointed his Phaeston at the tent fabric Saren tore open. The four cabals moved inside and found a bigger sleeping area, equally devoid of any life. Repeating the process, they began searching the most obvious hiding spots and once more found weapons that should be used against them. and armor any reasonable fighter would put on before engaging a turian force.

"Perimeter security is reporting that the enemy is drawing back," Vitallion's voice said as the battle noises disappeared from the air. "Arterius, Bassilo and Aganian I want you at the prefab, the rest keep searching the tents."

"Casualties?" Bassilo asked as he ditched an assault rifle to the ground on his way out of the tent.

"Three Jiris out of the fight, seven wounded, nine dead," the Kabalim replied. "Six of the dead are crewmen." he explained.

"Damn," Hepsus asked. "If you find someone," he said as he kicked a helmet decorated with a rather badly drawn batarian skull with his foot. "Make them pay."

Saren gave him a nod before he followed the other two cabals out of the opening they had created minutes before. The squad moved through the camp, the air now eerily silent compared to before, making their way to the prefab at which Kabalim Vitallion and another cabal were already waiting for them. Saren threw one glance back to the forest, the smoke now black and thick in the air, and turned away just as evacuation shuttles broke through the clouds above.

"Not our battle right now, Saren," Bassilo said. "You're sure that there's nothing on your mind?"

"Just surprised," Saren said, technically not lying. "Honestly, I expected us to be the one's getting engaged."

"That's the purpose of an ambus,." Aganian chuckled dryly as he aimed his Phaeston at the window on the side of the prefab that was facing them, Saren himself keeping his eyes on the tents on their way. The smaller prefab, quite like the one they had originally taken cover behind, looked run down. An old, batarian model in use for centuries, the rather resilient building surely had seen better days. The brown paint appeared to have been beaten by the weather on this world, spots of the grey metal underneath visible where the paint job was starting to break away, one of its windows had been sealed with a large metal plate, presumably to cover a destroyed glass panel, and there were several dents in its side. The door was half-open, an orange glowing circle informing anyone on the outside of the fact that the locking mechanism was supposed to be in place, and as far as he could tell the lights inside were either defunct or turned off.

"Aganian, the door," Vitallion ordered as the turian cabals stacked up in front of it. The soldier did as he was told and lifted his left arm, his omni-tool coming to life as it linked itself with the locking mechanism.

"The locks are a bust," he said. "Nothing to override here. We could just force it open."

"Do it," the Kabalim said as he stepped next to the turian and pointed his own Phaeston at the door while Bassilo moved behind him, covering the other angle. When both where in position, Aganian began to radiate biotic energy and soon after the doors began to move as he decreased the mass of the metal blockade while pushing it open with all his might until the doors opened completely. The cabal stepped inside, looking to each side before waving them in.

"Clear the first floor, Bassilo cover the staircase," Vitallion ordered as the squad moved into the prefab with practiced speed. Saren and the other cabal which had already been with Vitallion came to a halt in front of one of the rooms of the prefab, the door to this one still open. He felt the hand of the soldier behind him tap him on the back and stepped into the room, finding it to be the one which had its window replaced by a metal plate. His helmet allowed him to see in spite of the terrible lighting conditions and when nothing appeared in front of his rifle, he twisted right to check the rest of the small room.

Nothing.

The room itself looked like it had been inhabited by someone that, unlike the pirates, understood the concept of order. The field bed was neatly made, the thermal blanket folded in a way all to familiar to Saren, and besides the destroyed window, the room was in a surprisngly good condition.

"Haliat was here," the younger turian said to the cabal who had entered with him.

"No doubt there," he replied as he lowered his rifle and nodded at the desk, the familiar eye piece sitting next to a disassembled and polished Phaeston, the cleaning equipment still sitting under a desk lamp right next to a terminal.

A personal terminal.

"I'm going to take a look at that," Saren said as he moved up to the desk, his fellow cabal silenced by the determination in his steps. He flicked on the lamp and turned on the terminal

"I'm getting the Kabalim," he said as Saren ignored the soldier, his curiosity getting the better of him. He brought up his omni-tool, prepared to try and hack the device but found it still unlocked.

"It's got some video logs on it," he said to himself, not drawing the attention of the other cabal as he walked out of the room.

The first log was dated roughly three weeks ago, as far as Saren knew Haliat had still been a loyal soldier back then. He started the recording and a brown plated turian, the green facial marks of someone born on Taetrus clearly visible on the screen, appeared. The background looked like that of any crew quarter on any ship in the turian navy. However the armor rack visible in the background, showcasing a set that did not look anything like the telltale Havoc-armor of the Armiger Legion, was very different from anything in the turian navy.

"Fedorian suggested I should start doing this, to 'keep track of my deeds for future books', said his brother is already doing it. Damn political ambitions.'" the turian chuckled. "It's not like I can actually ever release this so I guess I'm doing this for my own amusement," his mandibles twitched into a smirk as someone in the background shouted something Saren didn't quite understand. "Today we got a new order. We're moving into the Hades Gamma. Rumor has it that the batarians dug something up on Jartar, some kind of prothean data cache. Basic reconnaissance," the turian expalined. "The things on the pictures our source sent us didn't look like anything prothean I've ever seen." A voice in the background interrupted him again, this time clearly stating that Haliat was no archeologist, no matter how many asari students he bedded. "Shut up Vakarian!" the green plated turian laughed as a turian hand formed into a rather clear, obscene gesture, appeared in the background from one of the bunks. "They weren't as angular, smoother really. And purple. They were purple, not the usual black you're used to. But who am I to judge what's prothean and what's not? We know next to nothing about them after all," he lingered in his thoughts for a moment, his hands playing with a military talon absent minded. "I think that's all I got today, gonna hit the bunks now."

The recording froze there as Haliat ended it. The second recording was dated a few days later, still before Haliat's betrayal as far as Saren was aware. He pressed play and listened.

"Deployed to Jartar today, turns out we weren't the only one's who our source worked for." Haliat said, a fresh wound now added to his scarred face. "Pirates got there before us, killed the batarian team and took whatever it was they were guarding with them. Got into a pretty nasty fire fight as well, the bastards threw themselves at us to slow us down. Never seen anything like it among their kind. Interrogated one of the wounded they left behind and got a tracker on their shuttle right as they left. We'll go after them as soon as our ship gets to their base," he said and turned leaned back in the chair, revealing the very same sigil Saren had previously seen during his investigation on the grey under suit Haliat was wearing at the time of the recording, the black shield with the golden Mexta.

Blackwatch.

Saren swallowed as Haliat stared at the ceiling. "Vakarian took a phasic round through his dominant arm, poor bastard," the turian went on, sounding almost detached from the violence. "Killed the shooter but he won't be in fighting shape for a couple months, the round did a lot of damage, he's still in surgery. Gonna raid the pirate's base without him," the officer sighed. "Spirits, this one might actually end his career for real this time. Anyways, other than that I got not a lot to talk about." the turian said as his mandibles clicked into a smirk. "Funny that after twelve years, I'm still impressed at the things our guys can do. That shot should've been impossible. Vakarian nailed the guy right between his four ugly eyes," Haliat moved his hand to his face and pointed a finger between his two, yellow eyes. "Damn impressive," the turian sat up back in his chair. "Ah right," he said to himself, "There is one more thing, I got a better look at spirits knows what the batarians found on Jartar and it sure isn't prothean," he said as he brought up his omni-tool. "Don't tell anyone I showed you this," Haliat joked as the picture of a round, purple object appeared in front of the camera. "It's like those guys were drawn to it. The pirate, a bareface," the term now stung less for Saren, "He begged us to take him back to it before we crossed him off. Said he couldn't live without it, that it had 'shown him the truth," the green marked face mockingly air quoted, "Never seen anything like it, spirits the guy looked half-dead even before we shot him. Maybe it's some sort of drug, a chemical weapon?" the Blackwatch officer stopped playing with the blade in his hand and looked at the text engraved in it. "No idea what it was, honestly, we got through screening so I guess we didn't get exposed to it," Haliat grabbed the blades sheat from the desk and put the blade back into it. "Didn't get one with it today," he said,"Been a long day. I'll go to sleep now."

The recording froze once more as the turian decided to end it.

So Haliat hadn't been an officer of the Armiger Legion, fighting regular pirates but instead a member of the Blackwatch on a high risk reconnaissance mission deep into batarian territory where they had encountered some kind of weapon. This explained why Desolas's clearance hadn't been enough, this removed the lie Saren had told himself about taking a 'wrong turn' during his investigation.

It also explained why an entire company was supporting them.

A rogue Blackwatch soldier.

He closed the recording and moved on to the third one. This next one was dated right after Haliat had deserted.

The turian pressed play and while beginning to download the files.

Haliat appeared, this time aboard another space vessel by the looks of it, and Saren immediately noticed how different the man looked. He no longer radiated the confidence of an officer of the Hierarchy's most elite unit.

"I had to do it," the turian said, this time looking like he had been beaten to an inch of his life. "They didn't understand, they didn't see what I saw. Had they just touched it like I did, they would've understood. They would still be alive," Haliat muttered, still playing with the talon but doing so at an even faster pace then before. "They were going to destroy it, if they destroyed it there wouldn't have been any proof!" he suddenly shouted at the camera in a fit of anger, slamming the military talon into the metal table with enough force to punch right through it. "I couldn't let it happen. I took an oath to uphold the Hierarchy! No one would believe me without proof. Spirits, I wouldn't believe me without proof," he said as he rose from the desk.

"I'll answer for what I did when I ensured that the situation is under control, when I ensured that they won't be back," the turian started to pace back and forth in the room. "I'm going to their base on Tunae Prime, there we're going to study the artifact. The pirates understand, they said they are going to help, said that they stole it because they knew the danger. At first I didn't believe them but the longer they talked the more sense it started to make," he came to a stop and suddenly clutched his head. "Why didn't my unit understand? They took the same oath! They- ,no. I had to-, had to what?" he questioned confused as he walked back to the desk and ripped out the blade, injuring himself in the process. An angry snarl escaped the turian's mouth before he threw the blade through the room. "I didn't want to kill them, I had to! I- I had to!" he stuttered as he slumped down in the chair, ignoring the blood flowing from his hand. "I had to," he repeated, defeated.

The recording kept going at what looked like a still frame of Haliat for a minute and Saren heard the steps behind him, only fortune allowing him to finish a back up of the terminal's storage disk before Vitallion slapped him on the shoulder.

"What are you looking at Arterius?" the Kabalim asked. "You're supposed to help Tallin search."

"A recording, Sir" Saren explained. "Didn't see much of it though, Spent most of the time trying to unlock it. By the looks of it just a traitor going on about how he didn't mean to kill his unit."

"Typical," Vitallion said, not able to pick up the lie. "Cowards always talk their way out of things."

Saren couldn't really explain why he lied, maybe it was because he didn't want to harm Vitallion's faith in the chain of command. Maybe he didn't want to reveal something the Hierarchy was trying to keep hidden. Maybe a part of him wanted to keep the truth hidden until he knew what happened. There were still two recording left, two recordings he would watch as soon as he could.

"The prefab's clear," Vitallion said. "Casualty evacuation is finished as well, no trace of Haliat though. Looks like your terminal is the only thing we can bag for TNI. Nice work but next time, don't leave your partner," the NCO tapped him on the shoulder and walked out of the room.

"Naval Intelligence can work wonders," Bassilo said from outside of the door. "Good catch Saren."

Saren himself followed his Kabalim, the terminal in his left hand and his Phaeston in his right hand.

The group walked out of the prefab and linked up with the rest of the two squads, Hepsus among them.

"Anything?"

"Just a terminal and his Phaeston. No trace of Haliat."

"Damn bastard," Hepsus said. "I didn't even get to fire a single round," the turian sighted. "Guess I was worried about nothing. Boring day for the cabals."

"You really need to stop complaining abou the lack of fire fi-"

Time slowed down as Saren's muscles moved him to the first piece of cover they could find as warm, blue liquid sprayed against his face.

"Sniper!" Aganian shouted. "Kandros is hit!"

Saren dropped the terminal as his eyes moved to the turian lying in a pool of his own blood, red facial marks stained by blood flowing from his neck, his hands desperately trying to close the wound just below his face as a deadly silence settled once the echo of the shot vanished. It was a common tactic among marksmen to use wounded to draw out more targets, Saren knew that.

As Bassilo looked at his unit with a weak expression, Saren didn't care.

His biotics flared to life as he powered up his barriers and began to run.

"Spirits, where are you going, Arterius!" he heard his superior shout. "Get back here!"

Bassilo was the first cabal Saren had befriended, the first one outside his family that had treated him as an equal, he couldn't simply let him die. He felt the strain on his body as a round smacked into the barrier but he couldn't let Bassilo die. He had to try, he couldn't live with himself if he didn't try. Saren reached Bassilo and saw another turian crouch down next to him, Kabalim Vitallion had followed his suicidal example. The NCO pressed one of his own hands on the wound as he reached for his first aid kit, jamming the blood stopping material into the wound while ripping off a piece of armor on the turian's arm. Then he stabbed the standard issue stimulant pack, meant to keep a turian from dying before getting treatment, into Bassilo's exposed skin, its thin needle slipping past his plates and into his flesh.

"We are going to have to move you! Keep fighting!" he said to Bassilo as another round caused Saren to wince, their enemy was using an powerful rifle, his back was to the sun and a flash cone was hiding the blue flashes created when firing a weapon, making him impossible to spot. They were dealing with someone who knew their craft.

He heard the weak grunting of Bassilo and when his Kabalim lifted the turian he saw the large pool of blood that had already collected on the ground.

This wasn't good.

A turian taking a round to the neck usually didn't have good odds at survivng, especially with the amount of blood Bassilo had just left on the grounds of the camp. But if they could just get him to the Silus in ti- Another round smashed into the barrier and Saren felt himself grow weaker.

"Hurry up, I can't hold this!" he declared as Vitallion picked his pace up, coming ever closer to the safety of the prefab's wall.

A last bullet fired by the sniper smashed through the barrier, its force being reduced by the biotic field, the kinetic shielding and Saren's armor. Yet it still tore through. He felt the sharp burn of a round hitting his chest, tearing away skin and tissue in itss path as he once more forced the barrier up, the taste of blood appearing in his mouth, he ignored it. He had to protect Vitallion and Bassilo. It was his responsibility, his comrades trusted him, he ignored the dizziness, the pure weight of his armor and the blackness starting to close in.

This was the treachery behind biotics, if used in moderation, they were very useful. However if one used them too often or too intense in too little time, they would start to eat at the user, burning through their body without restraint. Asari or krogan didn't experience this very often, their bodies either naturally adapted to biotics or simply too tough to experience the self-destructiveness of biotic power. While salarians weren't capable of producing biotics strong enough to experience it, turians were. During training Saren had always been told to never reach the point of no return, the point at which his body would go into shock due to the strain the biotics placed on it. Hours were spent studying the biological impact of passing the point in an attempt to dissuade eager cabals from destroying themselves by sending their bodies into a self-induced coma they might not survive.

This didn't even go into the process of using them to stop bullets of a high powered sniper rifle while bleeding out.

Saren reached the safety of the prefabs wall and collapsed against its wall, blackness drifting into his line of sight, the last image he saw before falling to the ground being of Hepsus reaching for him to keep him awake, trying to stop him from fading away. He tried to fight it but the blood loss wasn't helping, the darkness creeping ever closer from the edges of his vision.

Saren, for the first time in years, considered giving in as he saw the blue blood collecting below him, flowing from his mouth and chest far too quickly to stop in time.

This is what death felt like.

His unit would give him a nice funeral. His mother of course would be heartbroken at the thought of her youngest son never returning home nad his father would probably be disappointed in him. Dying in a raid against petty pirates, not even a single round fired out of his rifle, a disgrace to the family name.

"Ready for this?" it echoed through his brain, the flanging voice of Desolas perfectly mimicked by his near-death brain.

Desolas would take care of the family, he always did.

"Pleasure to meet you, Saren. Ready for this?" Bassilo Kandros asked him, his feet planted in a turian shuttle above a human world.

He hoped the older turian would get to go home again, he deserved it. His family needed him.

"Born ready." he recalled in his mind, the darkness clawing at his vision.

"I wouldn't mind falling for you though," he remembered the medical assistant, Siana. She had told him to call him when he was back on Palaven. That wasn't going to happen now.

Pity really, she was a pretty one. Nice too.

Hepsus said something as he removed parts of Saren's armor. He didn't feel the needle nor the material being stuffed into his wounds, his brain sparring him the pain due to the lack of blood.

"-th me, Arterius," he made out even thought it sounded very far away, "cuation. One ca-... eeding out fa-"

"Han-... there... -terius. You don't ge- ... die here," it sounded almost inaudible as someone turned him on his back, bright light shining in his eyes, blood stained dirt no longer touching his face.

Just a regular raid.

He almost would've chuckled if he still had feelings in his mandible.

Saren gave in to the blackness, no point in fighting after you gave everything.

* * *

 **2130 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

In his youth, he would've loathed himself for sitting in an office all day and since he wasn't ready to accept that that youth was coming to an end, he still despised it.

"It's a house in Invictus jungle, really," his adjutant said to Desolas as he described the new concept for turian ground warfare, idly throwing a ball against a wall. "I mean we can't just restructure all of our legions due to one lawgiver thinking his 23rd tier makes him a more competent soldier than the people actually leading those legions."

"How you made Commander is beyond me, Melion," the white plated turian chuckled. "Turians are supposed to have complete faith in their superiors," his mandibles twisted into a grin.

"Must be my charms, General. I trust your judgment, I don't trust the judgment of some bureaucrat back on Palaven."

"Be glad you weren't born an asari. The political games would be the death of you, Melion," Desolas replied as he scrolled through the tablet of news. The downside of commanding a large force was that he had long periods of not having anything to do. Especially with most of his legion on leave somewhere Aephus.

Times had been better when he had still been allowed to go to the field with his Blackwatch, not stuck by the chains of command. Sure he had to keep parts of the truth away from his family but technically he had never lied to them. His father had to have suspected something, one did not make general at thirty nine without serving in certain units, but even if he did, he hadn't bothered to tell anyone. Knowing him, the man probably thought Desolas had simply crept up the meritocracy through political maneuvering, not through the fruits of his labour.

The blinking message informing him of urgent news almost surprised him.

If he hadn't been briefed on the investigation two days ago.

"Speaking of asari, Councilor Tevos just got arrested," he said with a dry voice as he swiped the message away to keep reading the news section on recent dueling contests.

"Bitch had it coming," his adjutant replied, equally unsurprised due to his military clearance on the matter. "She's gonna find a way out of this you know?"

"I don't actually. The humans apparenty turned up a lot of evidence," he said, happy that he would be able to collect a few credits during launch seeing as the contestant he had betted one once more prevailed in the non-lethal adaptation of an integral part of turian martial culture, dueling. Usually he wasn't this lucky. Maybe today would be a good day? One politician he disliked less and a few credits, escorted by the knowledge of having the better instinct compared to his rival Admiral Tacitus, more.

"She has so much pull within her own government, I doubt she'll face anything worse than retirement."

"Time will tell, my friend," Desolas said as he took a sip of water. "I for on-"

The door was almost knocked down by the junior officer, his winded expression betraying the urgentness of his message. He tried to get words out but his breath got in the way of it.

"Take a few seconds soldier," Desolas assured him while reading his table. "You can't deliver your message if you suffocate," the turian general chuckled.

"Sir, the operation on Tunea-Prime failed to turn up the artifact. It's gone, along side the pirates," he said as he caught his breath. "And Sir, your brother was injured. Badly."

Desolas dropped the bottle of water, as he turned to look at the younger turian.

The operation itself was something he had been aware of, after all Desolas himself had sent the Blackwatch team which had been killed to retrieve the artifact. He was also aware of his brother snooping around the records, using his faked clearance brother had accessed the right records but closed them far too quickly to actually find anything Desolas would have to talk about, not that he actually would've found the whole truth. Spirits, he had almost guessed that the pirates would've moved the artifact out of his reach for now. He was also aware that Saren would deploy, a factor he had no control over, simply the spirits of fate steering his brother into its path.

What he hadn't guessed was that his brother would be injured.

Desolas threw the tablet against the wall as he grabbed his jacket.

"Melion, get me a link to my personal guard," he said as he donned the piece of cloth containing the same black sigil seen on the two other soldiers in the room. A sigil Desolas Arterius had earned by sheer force of will.

"Tell them we're going for a little hunt."

"Yes, Sir."

"Take care of my legion, Commander."

"You can count on me, General Arterius," the commander said as the older turian left the room.

* * *

 **20\. May 2388 AD, Arcturus Station**

"That's one problem less," the chancellor said as he muted the tv screen of the news broadcast talking about the 'sudden arrest' of Councilor Tevos.

"We do have enough of them already," Jack Harper replied as he sat in the familiar office. "When am I getting that lecture on going behind your back to retrieve Vasir?" he asked.

"Never," the chancellor shrugged, "and neither are the people you dragged into it. But only because it worked this time, Harper," the chancellor chuckled as he produced a bottle from his desk and walked up to the locker placed on the wall, extracting two traditional bourbon glasses from it. "I'd advise you to not do it again, I'd hate to fire you."

"I simply did what you created Cerberus to do, Chancellor Noé," the other man said as the light-brown alcohol was poured into the glass. "If I have to go behind your back to do that again, I'll do it."

"That's why I gave you this position," the man sighed as he sat down at his desk and raised the glass, shaking it ever so slightly and producing a small vortex of alcohol inside it. "The culprit arrested, the Blood Pack grounded and Eclipse on the run with only their leader escaping us."

"Cerberus is on her trail," the man with blue eyes said as he took a sip, letting the taste settle in his mouth.

"I know Harper," he replied. "But the biggest issue remains."

"The IFS," Jack Harper said the words with a tone of venom. "They've been recruiting form what I heard."

"Yes, crack downs in the Fringe doubled in the last months. HSAIS tells me there's potentially dozens of sleeper cells across our space with access to god knows what Tevos got them."

"Our vigil never ends, does it?" Harper questioned.

"That's the promise we gave," Noé replied as he too took a sip of the beverage. "When you find Sederis, it won't be Cerberus that'll execute the mission."

This took Harper by surprise.

"The turians offered their help on the last charge," the chancellor explained. "They want a joint operation between their own special forces and N7."

"Can hardly pass on that opportunity now, can we?" Harper replied. While he wasn't a politician, he understood the idea behind it.

Few placed forged friendship like the battlefield.

"They also gave us tons of intel on Eclipse hideouts, gathered by TNI, and before you ask, yes we double checked it. It checks out."

"It's nice to have someone on our side for a change," Harper chuckled. "Maybe there aren't just demons out there?" the man said, recalling how he sat in the very same office almost five years ago, back then the 'Cerberus Initiative' was nothing but a concept.

"We've come a long way since then," the chancellor replied, catching the hint.

"Our journey's just beginning, we'll soon have to deal with the veto on the number of our dreadnoughts running out."

"Navy proposed something."

"I'm listening."

"You won't like it," the chancellor said as he shoved a tablet across the table.

"They aren't actually considering giving in?"

"They are considering a loop-hole," Noe said as the director opened the tablet, the display showing him the process of removing a dreadnought's main gun and instead replacing it with a smaller cannon, filling the blank space with either hangars or additional smaller guns.

"They want to make a dreadnought-carrier-hybrid?" he asked. "That seems rather impractical."

"They are calling it Project Chimera, it's based on the fact that no one out there employs strike craft like we do. Our carriers have been racking up more kills than our dreadnoughts, at least against Eclipse."

"I figure we'd do this to every Everest Class? We can only have five 'real' dreadnoughts after all according to it."

"Exactly. The Kilimanjaros are going to fill those five slots. The process is expensive though."

"Is it reversible?"

"That was the condition I gave them."

"We'd lose fire power."

"We are currently building two more carriers Harper, technically we possess more ships the size of dreadnoughts than the asari do. Fire power is something that can take on many forms."

"Doesn't factor in technology."

"The number is still making them sweat. Call Chimera a project of good faith."

"How expensive are we talking?"

"I don't have the exact figures but it still beats deactivating eight dreadnoughts in the long run. When it comes down to it, the retrofit is out best option."

"And what would we do with these 'Chimeras', use them as something in between cruisers and dreadnoughts?"

"I'm not a naval officer, let them decide."

"I take it this is happening?"

"No, not yet. It's our last option. Goyle told me she might be able to turn in a lot of political capital she gathered over the last years. Saved civilians, crushed mercs, exposed corruption, turian sympathy, you know the drill."

"Still shooting for the seat on the council?"

"Of course I am" Noé muttered. "Might as well make sure that I go down as the most influential chancellor of all time," the man explained with a chuckle. "But realistically speaking I was thinking more along the lines of a little more delaying. A human Spectre, would be a good stepping point on our way the seat."

"Got someone in mind?" Harper replied as he took another sip of bourbon.

"Well pure logic would dictate it to be a Section 13 agent, but its not like we got a lot those lying around."

"Would've advised you against it anyway," Harper commented.

"Cerberus is of the page as well, you don't exist. So I figured we might as well take the next logical step."

"An N7," Harper 'guessed'. "More precise an N7 that's going to be part of the joint operation?"

"This is why I dislike spies," Noé chuckled.

"Got anyone special in mind?"

"In fact I do."

* * *

 _Codex: N7 Naval Interplanetary Combatives Training_

 _The N7 program draws its name from the fact that its selection process, open to all parts of the HSA military, consists of seven selection steps, together taking two and a half years to complete._ _These steps, mostly classified, consist of testing the recruit's resolve, skill, physical endurance, intelligence and ability to work as part of a team even under high levels of both physical and emotional stress._

 _With a technical success rate of only two percent it is often said that out of a thousand soldiers that apply to the process, only twenty graduate. This number however is inflated by the technicality that the actual training doesn't start until the third step of the program, known as the Crucible among HSA special forces, a test which only one of every ten recruits pass, is completed. Out of these one hundred, only twenty go on to pass the other four steps of the N7 program. Upon graduation a successful candidate is promoted into the rank of a non-commissioned officer, transferred to the navy and given the famous white-stamped, black coloured hardsuit._

 _The exact size of N7 is classified but estimations put their numbers at a fraction of the navy it is part of, counting no more than eight thousand operatives active at any given time, making the unit slightly more numerous than their counterpart in the army. (see Entry 'Army Special Operations Command')_

 _The unit enjoys access to the most advanced weapons the HSA can muster and has produced many famous human soldiers, Lieutenant Commander Emily Shepard among them._

* * *

 **A/N: So, chapter 11. I hope it's as good as I find it to be, really enjoyed writing it.**

 **We are now at 193 favs and 246 follows, I never thought it would get this far. Glad for every last one of you.**

 **Let me know what you think, so many people yet so little reviews.**

 **The plot isnow slowly starting to advancae and guess what? Shepard now has a first name ;)**

 **I did go back and change a little detail in chapter three, something that will come up later (it's related to me holding back on further parts of the Fringe Wars entries, since those are seriously spoilery and will only appear once their spoilery nature fits with the progression of plot.) I also forgot to write 'Codex' in front of last chapters Codex, shame on me.**

 **See you around next time.**


	12. Mopping Up

**Chapter 12. Mopping Up**

* * *

 **1\. June 2388 AD, Hourglass Nebula, Uncharted Planet**

The dark grey boot connected with the asari's rip cage, causing her to twitch and cough right until the soldier fired another round into her head, purple blood now colouring his armored foot. They weren't here for prisoners anyway. The fire fight up to here had been easy, Eclipse didn't suspect they even knew this place existed. They had met no major resistance, instead taking the enemy completely by surprise.

Technically they didn't, it had been a turian tip off.

They had dropped in the middle of the night and infiltrated with ease. A couple of guards, not nearly enough to stop the well oiled killing machine a Cerberus strike team was, had been dispatched in swift motion right before they simply rolled over the base like a storm.

He continued his stride across the corpse filled room and kicked another asari, purple skin made slightly more purple by the blood flowing from her mouth. Unlike the last one, she wasn't playing possum.

"Room clear," he called as his squad leader walked in, green stains of blood running down his left arm. He'd hate to see the other guy.

"Budapest, this is Strike-Lead. Location is secured, the turian intel was solid, they were completely unprepared. Over."

"Copy that Strike-Lead, commence intel retrieval. Over."

"Acknowledged Budapest, Strike-Lead over and out."

"I take it the salarian's dead, Holderman?"

"Didn't know anything useful anyway," Thomas replied as he let go of his rifle, the SR-8x now held in place by his combat rigging.

"Stupid lizards."

"I think they are amphibian, actually."

"Couldn't care less, boss." the Cerberus soldier said as he finished hacking into a terminal. "Would you look at that."

"Jackpot?" the leader of the strike team questioned as he started to work on another terminal while other members of his unit repeated the process around the small hideout.

"Damn right. This cell had a direct connection to 'Eclipse 1', also known as one 'Jona Sederis'."

"Budapest, this is Strike-Lead. Jackpot. I say again, Jackpot. We got what we came for. Over," Holderman said, satisfied with the result of this operation.

"Copy that Strike Lead, bag everything. Terminals, data caches, omni-tools. Over and out."

"You heard the man," Holderman called, "Don't forget about the usual hiding spot as well," he added as he tore a data drive from underneath the table, weighting the black box in his hand before placing it in one of his pouches.

"We're coming for you, you bitch," he promised as he tore an omni-tool from the wrist of a dead salarian engineer, green blood drops staining his gloves. "Just you wait."

* * *

 **3\. June 2388 AD, Arcturus Station, Central Command**

"The intel collected in the raid checks out," an HSAIS agent said as the projector in the room zoomed in on a region in the Terminus Systems. "We got a positive on Jona Sederis."

The blue projector closed in on the Hourglass Nebula."Ploitari Secundus. Uncharted world, right in the middle of Eclipse's favorite smuggling route. Scouts have confirmed that Eclipse has a presence in the system. The intel suggests she'll visit the installation in five days to meet with the head of the operations in the area."

"How certain are we?"

"Ninety percent, Sir. The raid has turned up reliable data as far as our analysts can tell."

"Deployment time?"

"We can have forces in the system in three days."

"I want this forwarded to the Hierarchy, they've got a cabal unit on readiness near the Terminus for this very reason. We're gonna need them to take down Sederis." Noé ordered as an aid of the ministry for alien relations left the room."Admiral Jun, I want the N7 team of the HSASV London on this one. One Lieutenant Anderson is among the people we are considering for Spectre status, give him a trial by fire along side aliens. Makes for good PR."

The admiral began to type away on her tablet as the orders of the commander in chief were set into motion.

"Is there any indication of the strength Eclipse can muster in the system?" the Chancellor questioned.

"The installation appears to be rather big by Eclipse's standards," the agent said as the projector displayed an aerial view of the site. "Going by the number of buildings, our analyst estimate anywhere between 50 and 150 mercenaries, not accounting for whatever escort Sederis brings along. However no space assets."

"Numbers like that push the thought of simply firing a dreadnought cannon at the planet very tempting," the Chancellor said. "Can they handle this, Admiral?"

"Frontal assault, guns blazing? Could be tough. Infiltrating, going around their defenses and waiting for the right moment to strike? Definitely. It's what N7 does, Chancellor Noé." the admiral said. "If you're worried about Eclipse's navy, don't be. We'll let her jump into the system and once our forward scouts have confirmed that whatever escort she brought cleared the relay, we'll blockade it with a fleet. Carrier Battle Group Tesla is in the area anyway. They are itching for a fight and they got the jammers needed to keep the ground side blind."

"Add in the turian support and I assure you we'll see a successful mission," the minister for alien relations said.

"Good. Let's end this one on a high note," The chancellor got up and rested his hands on the table. "Anything else?" he asked into the room but no one spoke up. "Time to make good on our promise then. Dismissed."

* * *

 **4\. June 2388 AD, HSASV London, Barracks**

"Wake up, you lucky bastard," he heard as someone threw a pillow in his face. He grunted and forced himself to sit up, taking care not to hit his head on the upper bunk again.

"Lieutenant 'Lucky Bastard' for you, Master Chief Abrami."

"The Admiral of the Navy wants to speak to you," the other man replied as he stood in the door way, the light from the London's corridors standing in contrast to the quarters Anderson shared with another junior officer. "If I were you, I'd get up David." he chuckled as he flicked on the light switch, causing Anderson to growl as his eyes were flooded by the change of brightness.

"Thinks his commission gives him the right to be sleepy. Yeah right. Always a bigger fish out there buddy," the NCO muttered to himself as he walked out of the door.

Santino Abrami.

Anderson had taken every single selection step of N7 with him, crawling through ice cold mud at his side during Crucible and standing next to him when both were still Petty Officers during First Contact, providing security for the poor guy selected to talk to aliens in the first formal meeting between the HSA and the Citadel Council. Their paths had only split when Anderson applied for officer training after said meeting, something Santino had considered 'boring', instead making a career as an NCO. However the N7 hadn't hesitated a second when Anderson requested him for his unit after completing the officer training.

He could forgive a little insubordination from the guy. Santino had earned that after dragging him thirteen kilometers to the evacuation point after Anderson had been bitten by some exotic snake-like creature during a two man infiltration exercise in the jungle's of the Fringe. Damn that beast for being smart enough to bite the soft joints and damn nature for giving it such a paralyzing poison.

He pulled on his naval uniform and fixed the collar as he walked out the door, heading for the elevator to get to the briefing room. Anderson pressed the button calling it down and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes while waiting for the doors to open.

Once they did he stepped inside and smashed the button to the second deck immediately.

Admiral Jun was one of the people you really didn't want to keep waiting.

The elevator doors opened up and he marched out the of the door, taking a left turn and walked to the grey door of the briefing room, the light over the door indicating that a transmission was in progress. He pressed the button to open it.

"There he is," the captain of the London said. "I'll leave you to it, ma'am." he said as he saluted the blue projection of the asian woman and turned to greet Anderson who in turn saluted him.

"Admiral, Captain," he said.

"At ease, Lieutenant," the admiral replied as the door closed behind the commanding officer of the HSASV London.

"You asked for me, Admiral?" Anderson said as he crossed his arms behind his back.

"We got a positive on Sederis," she simply explained. "The London is already heading towards the system. You will lead a team, which will work with a cabal unit of the Hierarchy, on the ground. You'll infiltrate the compound, take care of Jona Sederis, designated High Value Target 1, and kill anyone standing in your way."

Anderson was used to an influx of information, so he was not as overwhelmed as a normal person would've been.

"The details are on your personal terminal," the Admiral said. "If any questions come up, don't hesitate to use the communication code embedded in the file designated 'Operation Judgment'."

"Yes, Admiral," he said.

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant," she said and Anderson saluted her just in time before the projection disassembled itself.

That was one of the shortest briefings he had ever experienced.

He left the room while ordering his squad leaders to rally his platoon. This would be an interesting few days.

* * *

 **6\. June 2388 AD** **, Hourglass Nebular** **, Ploitari Secundus**

His feet touched the ground and Anderson began to collapse his parachute as he saw the rest of his unit land on the ground, their slow glide from above coming to an end some twenty kilometers away from their target.

"Anyone injured in the drop?" he asked as his second in command came over to him.

"No," the man that had landed next to him replied. "Clean drop, no one missed the landing zone."

"Good. Our allies?" he questioned.

"Turians touched down in their drop area," Santino said. "Kabalim Zatio and the rest of her unit made it to the ground undiscovered."

"Damn risky for them to just take a shuttle."

"Not every species has fully embraced the concept of airborne infiltration, Lieutenant." the other N7 replied as his onyx armor was illuminated by the light of Ploitari Secundus's two moons. "They'll meet us at the rally point in five hours."

"Our hours or their hours?" Anderson asked half serious, half joking as he extended the stock of his SR-7.

"Our hours, sir."

"Alright. Let's get moving people," he said, this time over the radio in his helmet. "We'll move to the rally point, meet up with the turians, adapt our tactics should the need arise and establish a small camp for the night if it doesn't." he finished his orders and his unit began the long march.

The uncharted world held a certain beauty to it, no light pollution messing with the night sky, no cities occupying the horizon. Only hills and mountain ranges in the distance.

Ploitari Secundus's atmosphere was breathable, the only reason for it not being classified as a garden world being the lack of life. Only hills, rocks and mountains littering it's surface.

The lack of trees reminded Anderson of his desert warfare training, with the small exception that Ploitari Secundus was noticeably colder and deserts had dunes made of sand instead of rocks, mountains and hills. The HUD in his helmet informing him of the 15 degrees below zero and his eyes telling him that the grey ground was no sand.

He set his eyes into the direction of their rally point, a hill inside a valley as far as orbital recon could tell, and scanned his surroundings.

This would be a long walk.

* * *

 **Five Hours Later, Rally Point**

Orbital reconnaissance had been right, their camp was inside a valley. If one would call a hill surrounded by noticeably higher one's a valley.

Damn them.

The turians had arrived shortly after Anderson's unit and he was currently face to face with Kabalim Zaito, the grey turian helmet with purple dots on its side staring back at his own onyx one.

"How much rest do your people need Lieutenant?" she asked, the flanging audible even through her helmet.

"We have to cover twenty more kilometers tomorrow but my men are still rather fresh. Six hours, tops," he said. "Are your biotics any more strained, Kabalim?" he asked.

"My cabals only need something between their teeth and a few hours of shut eye Lieutenant. We'll be ready for our mission after that," she replied. "I propose we go with your schedule and start marching during midday, that way we'll advance on our foe with the darkness," she explained.

"Sounds reasonable," Anderson said. "Sederis is scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow, we'll have a whole day for scouting their installation on the ground although orbital scans have shown much already. Once we begin infiltrating the base, we'll split into three teams. Team 'Judge' will be the majority of my platoon, moving towards Sederis directly, engaging in close quarter combat within the main building. Team 'Jury', which will be the majority of your cabals, will move with you and be the first to infiltrate. You'll be responsible for our biotic support when things go hot, you'll have to fight the majority of mercs outside of the base's headquarters. Finally Team 'Executioner' is going to sweep the rest of the buildings and provide long range security at the same time, being made up of both cabals and N7, they'll kill any lone mercs they come across while securing the perimeter as effectively as possible from a distance. They are our mobile reserve as well."

"If I may suggest that we execute the reconnaissance with mixed units as well, Lieutenant?" the Kabalim said, strangely formal given that they were both the leaders of their representative units, technically equals. "I've studied the field exercises of our ground forces, it seems that turians and humans both excel at a different form of spotting."

Anderson considered it, he too had read the reports but on the other hand his N7 were a well oiled machine, working as one squad instead of five soldiers.

Then again there was always room for compromise.

"We'll split it up, mixed units and regular one's working on the same objective," he replied. "Neither of our units is used to working with the other but they are both professionals. I think keeping some teams together while creating a few mixed one's is the best course of action."

"Yes Lieutenant. I'll inform my cabals," the Kabalim said before offering a turian military salute which caused Anderson to return the human one.

Then she simply stood there until it clicked in his head.

"You're dismissed, Kabalim," he said, causing her to turn around and leave the tent.

Turians really were a strange breed.

He locked the terminal displaying the intelligence they had just discussed to the outside world before placing it in stand by and dropping the device back into his backpack.

Another soldier, Abrami, walked into the quickly set up command tent, his hand lifting the piece of fabric dividing the inside from the colder outside to allow him an easier entry.

"So, mixed teams?"

"What did I tell you on eavesdropping, Santino?"

"Just cutting off a little time from the briefing, LT," the soldier replied as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "The guys are resting now, guards are up."

"Good," Anderson replied. "The squad leaders still up?"

"Yes."

"Rally them, time for that briefing you are looking forward to Abrami."

"Aye aye, Sir."

* * *

 **2130 CE, Ploitari System, Eclipse Cruiser 'Cutter', Bridge**

"No noticeable drift, system's clear, our escort made it through as well. Both vessels accounted for," the navigator said as Sederis drummed her fingers on the arm rest of her chair, her thoughts focused more on how she could turn this one around.

At first the humans had merely been annoying, hitting unimportant bases and focusing their effort on the Blood Pack, only bothering Eclipse slightly. Truthfully, she hadn't expected the level of redemption the upstarts had delivered up to now. After all, no one would dare to venture into the Terminus right?

She sighed, cursing her line of thought back then. No one messed with Eclipse, she had to make an example out of them. Massacre a few thousands colonists, show them who was the top-dog in the Terminus.

How wrong she had been. First, the humans were not responsible for the raids which had caused her to act, it had been the now disgraced Councilor Tevos of the Asari Republics making a political play. Secondly she had misjudged just how ruthlessly the HSA would commit to this fight, turning it into an all out war against the mercenary companies that had attacked them.

Scrolling through the latest casualty reports she dully noted the destruction of yet another three hideouts and one cruiser in the last week. Eclipse was slowly melting out of her hands, its navy shattered, its bases burned and its mercenaries dead or captured by the enemy.

Eclipse had prided itself on being the single largest private security company to ever exist in the galaxy, roughly 2.000.000 active combat personal and an equal number of supporting employees and even more black ops personal spread around the galaxy, their agents renown for ruthless efficiency and even the Hierarchy thought twice before provoking them. Disgraced huntresses, black listed STG agents, young, thrill seeking maidens, veterans of salarian ground defense forces, all of them flocked to Jona Sederis' calling, promising money and fame for any who dared to fight for Eclipse.

Now over half of these mercenaries had either routed, she'd have their heads for cowardice, killed or been captured. The supporting personal? Most of them had packed their bags after Eclipse cells started to disappear from the map once the Blood Pack had been reduced to a shadow of its former self.

Of course they too would pay in blood for betraying Jona Sederis, they, their families and everyone they ever held dear. She'd personally rip them apart with a joyful smile on her face.

"We'll soon be in orbit, Ma'am," the green salarian commander of the vessel informed her, now standing next to the chair and handing her a terminal."Ground control is reporting the activation of the relay a few days ago, apparently two quarian vessels traveled through here."

"Anything else?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Then why are you still wasting my time?" she questioned. "Go do something useful before I entertain myself with you. Come back when the shuttle is ready," a murderous grin appearing on her face.

The salarian didn't reply and simply withdrew from the bridge, trying to get as much distance between himself and her.

Ruling through fear was one of the many things she had become very good at running a mercenary outfit, criminals and veterans alike responded to it, her past as a huntress giving her a good foundation to induce said fear.

* * *

 **8\. June, 2388 AD** **, Hourglass Nebular** **, Ploitari Secundus**

"Jackpot," Santino said, the scope of his rifle hovering above the head of their target, of course the shot he currently had would go to waste, his target too well protected and too far away. "Call it in," he said to the turian accompanying him, "Sederis is on the surface."

The last major culprit of the attacks of last year strode away from the yellow marked gunship with her escort, four very menacing looking asari carrying shotguns, and made her way to the outpost's main building, a silver, asari-build colonial housing unit.

The two soldiers were lying under a heat-reflective blanket some 1.5 kilometers away from the edge of the base, last rays of sun light shining from the west and small pieces of rock and grey dirt glowing slightly orange as they were embraced by the dusk, the naturally grey armor of the turian looking not near as dirty as Abrami's onyx black armor, now dotted with lighter spots were the grey dirt had stuck.

"Copy that," the flanging voice replied, pressing a button on the side of his helmet. "Cabal Agitax calling Judge-Lead, over."

"Judge-Lead reading you, over."

"HVT-1 just touched down," the turian said. "We got a confirmed positive, over."

"Copy that Cabal Agitax, I'm relaying the orders to the navy. Operation Judgment is a go. All forces rally to your assigned posts, we'll move in 30 mikes, over," Anderson replied so everyone would hear.

"Time to get going then," Santino said as he slowly crawled backwards until the ridge they had placed themselves on fully covered their form. He got up and began to slide down, his turian companion closely behind him. When they arrived on the lower terrain again, Agitax folded the blanket back into it's tiny form and stached it in his belt.

"Those were Eclipse vanguards," he said. "Did you see the bony asari head on their shoulders? You only get that for over 100 years of service in Eclipse. These guys are the old guard."

"Trouble I take it?" Santino replied as they started to jog towards their position.

"Big time."

"Suggestions?"

"Anti-biotic warfare, wear them down or kill them from beyond their maximum range. They were carrying shotguns and pistols, they'll try to launch themselves at us, just engage from the hills and we're good."

"If we do that, the whole purpose behind our infiltration goes south and we'll have to fight an entrenched enemy."

"Turian cabal unit and human naval special forces platoon? I think we're good."

"I admire your confidence but I'd rather just creep in there and avoid a frontal assault."

"That is another option."

They reached their rally point and Santino spotted his lieutenant already lying prone on the hill, roughly 500 meters from the base. Eclipse had made a tactical error when they had chosen this position, their line of sight in one direction blocked by a large set of hills and rock dunes, perfect for closing the gap and ignoring the no-mans land in the west and north and the climb up the mountain range in the south of the series of prefabs.

"Navy dropped in two minutes ago," Anderson said as Santino dropped down next to him. "They have engaged the cruisers and the jamming gear is working like a charm. The base is still running normal, no alarms, no visible evacuation attempts."

"Nice. The lack of Kabalim Zaito's squad means they are already on their way to the base?"

"Yes, she just sent the word. Jury is now within 40 meters of the base's exposed side, just waiting for our go."

"Let's get crawling then?"

"Follow me, Master Chief Santino," Anderson said as he pushed himself into a sitting position and simply slid down the first hill, Abrami and his assigned unit following him swiftly. They reached the bottom and began to climb up the next hill, repeating the process until they too were well within the reach of the base.

Anderson led the way, his rifle pointing forward as Santino focused his scope on the bored looking asari guard up ahead, seemingly taking a break to smoke some sort of drug, her rifle not even within her reach, seemingly sure of the secure nature of the base.

He saw how Anderson slowly lowered the barrel of his SR-7 and his armored gloves reached for the asari's neck, swiftly dragging her down to the ground before a wet crushing sound followed by a last breath and the complete limbness of her body ensued. He set down the corpse as he brought up his rifle again, this time one hand pointing two fingers to his left, the entry to one of the prefabs. Santino and the man behind him followed the order and placed themselves on the wall next to it, a turian cabal unit creeping around the corner almost at the same moment, linking up with the two N7 operators.

Executioner was staring its work here.

One turian stepped up and brought up his, no her now that he took a closer look, omni-tool. The faint orange glow of the door changing to a green as it slowly opened. Santino stepped inside after the first turian and twisted left, finding only an empty storage area, open crates and dust littering the corner. Moving to his right now, his eyes ever focused on the door up ahead, he placed his hand on the shoulder of the other N7, who began to walk towards the door, Santino following each of his steps.

"All forces in the base be advised, Sederis is walking towards the main building, I'll lose sight of her shortly, Executioner-3 over," their lookout informed them over the encoded frequency, his whisper only audible due to the communication gear stored in the onyx N7 helmet covering the master chief's head.

"Cover the main entrance, once we begin to engage her let no one through, Judge-Lead over and out," Anderson replied, who should according to the plan almost be at the side entrance of said building, the lack of alarms informing Santino that up to now everything was going according to the plan.

Santino released the hand on the N7's shoulder and the man moved up through the door, his SR-7 twisting left and its suppressor pointing at a figure just out of Santino's sight while he crossed the gap towards the next prefab. Next through was a turian, walking past the Master Chief and repeating the N7's series of motion, ready to end whoever was standing there should the need arise. When it was Santino's turn, he finally saw just what they had been aiming at and recalled the conversation he had with the turian, the asari skull clearly visible on the yellow armor of the mercenary.

He kept walking, his sights aligned with the head of the enemy unaware of his presence right until he knelt down at the door of the prefab.

"It will make a sound when opened, prepare to engage," the turian informed him.

"All forces, this is Judge-Lead, we have entered the main building, making our way to Sederis," Anderson said. "They still have no idea we're here, over and out."

"Hold it," Santino said as he received that line. "We can't blow our cover now, cover me, I'll make this quick," he argued as he unsheathed his knife from the sheath on his belt, intending to silence the lone mercenary with its blade. He crept up behind her, his eyes focused on the softer parts covering her neck and forcefully grabbed her head, twisting it to expose the neck area even more. Lighting fast he jabbed down the blade, pushing it into the armor's soft spot, twisting it 180 degrees and ripping forward, resulting purple blood accompanied by a sickening gurgle sound spewing from the wound. He held onto the asari until he felt he get heavier and heavier, slowly walking backwards and leaving a trail of blood as he went to hide her from plain sight.

"I am sure they won't notice that," the other N7 said ironically.

"Better than letting a corpse lie in plain sight," Santino replied, pointing at the door. "Now you can open it."

The turian simply nodded, repeating the process already applied to the first door, once more turning the orange hologram green and entering the building.

Only to be faced with an equally surprised and angry looking salarian.

The bigger cabal began to glow purple just as the salarian went for his gun, a ball of biotic energy smashing the smaller, frailer alien into the wall of the prefab, bones cracking just after a single round had been fired.

But it was no use, the damage had been done.

"All forces, cover blown," Santino said just before several other salarians rushed into the room they had just entered.

N7 Operators, like any other personal considered important enough, had been equipped with the still rare hybrid barrier generator produced by joint turian-human research teams, therefore Santino escaped the deadly hail of bullets they unleashed instantly. His rifle barked as he threw himself sideways, a crate with asari writing his only cover from the sand grain sized rounds beating down on him, he heard the sound of the base alarms going off as gunfire began to dominate the air.

"Judge-Lead, this is Jury," Kabalim Zaito began, "Moving in to support," he faintly could hear the sound of biotic explosions in the background, the cabals already beginning their work.

"Copy that Jury," Anderson replied. "Executioner, get your ass towards the main building. We are fighting our way up, Sederis hunkered down on the top floor. Heavy resistance."

Santino reached for a grenade on his belt and looked at the other N7, the operator repeating the motion of his comrade.

"Give us barrier support," he called over the squad intercom, the cabal nodding and the strange feeling of mass effect fields engulfing him followed.

The duo rose in almost perfect unity, throwing the grenades, one flash bang, another a fragmentation explosive, at the salarian fire team. The mercenaries, seemingly too caught up in the fire and maneuver tactic they were currently using to advance on the mixed special operations team, didn't react to the flash bang until it exploded, causing them to be unable to react to the slightly later exploding fragmentation grenade, tearing them apart, one salarian's arm flying into Santino's direction, green blood splattering across the floor as it came to a halt next to the crate.

"Messy," the turian commented as he rose from behind his own cover. "But effective."

"Double time it to the main building," Santino simply said, his team following him through the door. He burst out in the open, grey dirt the only thing between him and the main building, parts of it already blackened by explosions. He peaked around the corner, ducking back just in time to not have a sniper round reduce his head to mush.

"Executioner-3, we got snipers, a little help?" he questioned, pressing himself back into the door way as another round tore past him, harmlessly digging into the grey dirt next to him.

"Copy that, Executioner-1," a neutral voice replied, then the sound of the HSA's anti-material rifle broke through the air, the gauss rifle PR-74 smashing straight through whatever defense their nemesis in the distance could've mustered. "Sniper's dead, switching position now."

"Alright. Deploy smoke, then dash for the building," Santino said, unhooking a smoke canister from his chest rig, throwing the grenade and waiting for the smoke to disperse itself into a cloud that would provide cover from regular and thermal vision.

He drew in a long breath and prepared himself.

"Follow me!" he called, throwing himself out of the door and charging across the open field now covered by a white, hot smoke cloud as sporadic mass accelerator rounds tore past him, the missed shots clearly audible to his ears as his breath became faster the closer he got to his target. He fixed his eyes on the door, opened by Anderson's infiltration team, and threw himself inside, his hard suit taking away the force of his jump.

He pushed himself up and raised his rifle just as the other N7 came stumbling in, red blood flowing from his left arm, the soldier already reaching for the Medigel syringe on his belt, slapping the medical agent on it to stop the bleeding. "They got lucky." he said as he rolled the shoulder of the injured limb as the turians threw themselves into the building.

"Everyone through?"

"I was the last one," the bigger turian tech who had previously opened the door on an angry salarian said. "Only he got hit, we got lucky." he added.

The gunfire above them began to grow more intense as the mixed unit of Executioner moved through the building, corpses of salarians and asari littering the silver ground, the sporadic onyx black body causing a twist in Santino's stomach as he walked past his dead comrades.

This was the nature of their work, people died in the line of duty.

That didn't make it easier though.

He started to walk up the steps, red blood flowing down and pointed his rifle at the first humanoid shape he saw until he registered the onyx armor, a lone N7 pointing his pistol at him.

"Friendlies!" he almost shouted as he lowered his rifle, noting the used Medigel containers next to the soldier.

"Next level," the soldier coughed, his voice weak, justified by the large puddle of blood surrounding him.

"Get him out of here, Rico," he ordered the already injured N7. "Make sure he doesn't die."

"I'll cover your back, Si-" the injured N7 protested as the man with a red trail of blood running down his arm began to pick him up.

"That's an order, Petty Officer," Santino reinforced his sentence with his rank, shutting down the complaint.

"Yes Master Chief. Give 'em hell."

"Aye aye."

The two humans began to walk down the stairs, leaving Santino the lone human among three turians now moving up the stairs, shell casings, blood and corpses, luckily most of them Eclipse, littering the ground.

He kept moving as the turians behind him followed, orange bursts of light visible from below. He rushed up the flight of stairs and immediately went towards the man identified as Lieutenant Anderson by his HUD.

"We're here, sir!" he shouted as he crouched down next to him, the cabals behind him starting their biotic work.

"Great," the N7 officer commented as he rose from his cover, dispatching an asari with a precise burst of fire. "Sederis withdrew to the roof, she's probably waiting for a shuttle to pick her up."

Santino looked at him, ready to question why they were waiting.

"Navy already has established orbital superiority, she can't get away," he added as he slid back down, replacing the magazine of his SR-7 with a fresh one.

That explained his patientce

Santino leaned around the corner of the wall they had taken cover behind and fired his own rifle at a salarian, the alien's barriers catching the rounds just long enough for the mercenary to dive into cover and send an electric current at a cabal, the turian jumping into cover as his biotic barriers and kinetic generator failed due to the overload.

"You still have any grenades?" Anderson asked.

"Only a flash bang."

"That'll do. Wait for my signal and throw that sucker right up there," Anderson said, pointing into the direction of three asari mercenaries firing their assault rifle's at their position.

Then the mad officer jumped out of his cover, sprinted towards another piece of cover and slid into the shielding grace of the wall just as his shields collapsed, meanwhile Santino removed the safety pin of the flash bang.

"Now!" the officer shouted over the intercom and the grenade left his hand, bouncing of the corner of the wall and falling perfectly between the enemy. The N7 turned away as a bright white, loud detonation echoed through the building, the N7s and turians rising from their position and throwing bullets, mass accelerator rounds and biotics at the entrenched mercenaries, shredding them in the process.

"Move up!" the Lieutenant ordered, his N7 falling in right behind him, soon followed by the turians, both groups setting their eyes on the door dividing them from their prize.

Anderson moved to the door, placing a breaching charge on it and pressing the detonator. Using the smoke as cover, the mixed unit rushed outside, taking cover behind storage containers. Up ahead, no more than 20 meters, Sederis and her personal guard were standing next to a yellow marked gunship, their attention immediately shifting towards the breached door and moving to attack the mixed unit.

One asari shot across the roof, colliding with an N7 operator, his black armored form flying away with the yellow, purple glowing mercenary. Another member of the skull marked asari mirrored the move, although smashing into a cabal, his barriers allowing him to stand up to the surprised mercenary and grasping her throat between his armored talons, trading biotic blows as Anderson and Santino began to fire at Sederis, the wanted criminal returning the favour with a biotic throw that sent Anderson of his feet, the N7 rolling upon impact and withdrawing back into cover.

Master Chief Santino Abrami however got close enough to do some damage, his SR-7 firing as his shields stopped the asari's bullets, her face growing angrier as he advanced on her, tackling the biotic.

He regretted the move when he felt himself thrown backwards as her glowing fist pushed him. Santino smashed into a container and shook his head just in time to be clear enough to dodge a kick that left a noticeable dent in the steel container. He went for his rifle but Anderson, having returned for seconds drew Sederis's attention, causing her to go for cover. In the background he heard the sounds of the turian cabals, his fellow N7s and the asari's personal guard fighting it out, biotic punches, gunfire and pain induced grunts and screams filling his ears as he and Anderson moved towards Jona Sederis's position, sporadic suppressive burst of his CO keeping her head down as they closed in.

He glimpsed at the yellow armored leg and began to fire as the asari rolled out of cover, a shotgun in her hand. Santino dove out of the line of fire, falling to the ground on his stomach. He made a move to turn around on his back while drawing his SIS-8, the old pistol ready to shoot at Sederis. Instead he saw how Anderson began to engage her in hand to hand combat, slapping the shotgun out of the asari's hands, drawing a knife and going up against biotic punches.

He got up as fast as he could, shooting at Sederis as he closed in, the electric sound of her kinetic barrier shattering as the purple glow of her biotic one started to catch the bullets.

Anderson caught one of the asari's hands, going in for the killing blow only to freeze as a biotic stasis caught him, the asari drawing a pistol and pointing it at N7's head.

Santino emptied his clip into the asari's back right before she pulled the trigger, causing the round to miss, his gun clipping empty just as the last bullet punched into her armor. The asari turned around and used the energy of said twist to throw a backhand at Santino, his visor cracking and his body dropping to the ground. He felt the foot on his chest, bones cracking as its mass increased, he had bled internally before, he knew the feeling that crept up his spine.

"How does it feel to die, human?" the asari mocked, blood running down her mouth. "Lonely? Scared? Sad?" she said, leveling the pistol at him as he coughed up blood, adding a red blur to his cracked vision.

He saw the black hand, glowing slightly purple as they fought the Stasis, carrying a pistol enter his ever darkening vision, a tone of defiance rising in him as he summoned every drop of fight still in him. He grabbed his knife and jabbed it into her leg.

"You tell me." he said as the asari increased the pressure in anger, focusing on him. His method of distraction successful at the cost of what felt like a part of his lung.

For some reason he couldn't describe, what followed was the loudest gunshot he had ever heard. The armored gauntlets of his CO turning purple as the round of the SIS-8 broke straight through the asari's helmet, liquefying her brain and ending her life. He felt himself drift away as the pressure on his chest disappeared, blood now flowing even faster from the internal injuries the mercenary leader had given him.

"Shit, stay with me Santino!" Anderson called. "Tesla come in!"

The blackness grew stronger.

"HVT-1 down. Tesla, we need medivac birds!" he heard his Lieutenant, although he sounded distant, more of a whisper than a scream.

His last thoughts brought him away from the bloody, silver roof of a prefab on Ploitari Secundus and to Earth, a small house on a hill somewhere in Italy, his nine year old brother mocking him for falling down a tree, calling him clumsy.

Him getting his teeth kicked out on the playground by some bully five years older than him for standing between him and his victim.

His graduation from school, going to the after-party and drunkenly chatting up a girl, not expecting anything from it.

Him signing a contract with a large eagle situated over a globe on top of it.

Him placing a ring on a woman's hand.

Him getting an N7 tab, muddy, dirty and in pain. So much pride though.

The faces of his comrades, family and loved one's flashing before his eyes one last time, it was through then.

A life well spent.

He drew his last breath and embraced the end, what else was there to do?

* * *

 **2130 CE, THS Umbra**

"So we're going for a hunt," the experienced soldier said as he placed the chest piece of his armor on the table. Golden lines running along the black material, the suit itself was designed to meet the needs of the Blackwatch but didn't sacrifice design to do so. He activated his omni-tool and began to run the diagnostic programs, as expected everything was perfectly calibrated.

"Cabals didn't get Haliat on Tunae, now it's our hunt. We'll get him,"the other replied.

"If you ask me, that wasn't Haliat. The captain's gone, did you see the recordings?"

"Yes Galviat, I did," the soldier replied as his grey plated hands closed the omni-tool and lifted the chest piece of the desk and into his foot locker.

"Then you know what I'm talking about, Veltax," Galviat, a turian with uncommonly black plates said. His white facial marks creating a start contrast to the colouration of his plates.

"Are you defending a traitor?"

"I doubt he even knew what he was doing. By the time of the forth recording, he didn't even look like Elanos anymore," Galviat replied as he started to disassemble his sniper rifle, checking each part individually.

"Does it matter? We're going after him," Veltax said as he repeated the process on a gauntlet.

"The wise hunter picks his prey carefully," he recalled the old mantra drilled into them during training.

"Galviat, are you scared?"

"It was a word of caution, Haliat did not earn the title of 'Captain of the Blackwatch' by being a push over," the turian said as he lifted the heat sink to eye level, checking for any sort of scratch or damage in the important part of his weapon of choice.

"You said it yourself, that wasn't Haliat. He is long gone," Veltax countered, spotting a small imperfection in the gauntlet's calibration, causing his red marked face to draw a grimace as he dropped the gauntlet into the foot locker after quickly fixing it. "Besides, we didn't make personal guard by being push overs either."

"Never thought I'd see a Blackwatch officer go rogue," Galviat stated. "Hasn't happened since the Unification Wars."

"Times are changing," a third voice interjected as the final member of Desolas Arterius personal guard walked into the room. Nilia Callius. The sole biotic of the three turians. A former cabal, she had been forwarded to the Blackwatch after a particularly nasty operation had resulted in the death of her entire team, causing her to complete the mission alone. A deed the Hierarchy did not forget. "But if his assessment of the artifact having a drug-like impact on the pirates is correct, I doubt he willingly went rogue."

"You see him as the victim of a weapon, Ma'am?" Galviat questioned as he lifted the scope of his rifle to eye level.

"That I do, Sergeant. No matter what happens, don't get close to that artifact. We can only assume that the same would happen to you."

"Didn't plan on it," Veltax said as he closed the foot locker his armor was stored in and placed his military talon on the table. The talon had a special meaning for the Blackwatch, golden engravings decorating the blade, most soldiers left a mark for any enemy they had slain with the blade. He released the protective sheath made from one of the toughest materials known to the galaxy and the light reflected of the polished, black material. Sharpened to the limit of current technology, Blackwatch talons could punch through most modern armor with ease. Complete control over the weapon was one of the several aspects of Blackwatch training. The turian began to look at the curved talon, dozens of small marks engraved in it.

"Can't believe he cut himself with it," Veltax observed.

"Shows how far gone Haliat was after his betrayal," Galviat reasoned. "Do we know where we're going yet, Ma'am?"

"The pirates didn't have a lot of time to move the artifact, there are only a handful of planets they could've hidden it on."

"And since Patrol Fleet blocked the major relay in the area, the area they could've moved is limited?"

"Exactly."

"So we know the general direction?"

"Always so wise Galviat. Watch out, you might make Primarch one day."

This caused the turian to chuckle as he started to put his rifle back to gather. "The spirits would never do something as horrible as this to me. They are not this cruel."

"They did get me stuck with you two bickering all the time," Veltax said as he weighted the familiar talon in his hand and began to twist it idly.

"Spit it out Veltax," Galviat said as he pressed the button that would fold his weapon into a smaller rectangle. "I can tell something's bothering you."

"The bodies retrieved on Tunae," he said, recalling the pictures and briefing on the beyond weird state of the fallen pirates. "Never seen cybernetics like that."

"You don't know what they cook up in the Terminus," the other turian replied, the image of the blueish enhancements equally present in his mind. "If you shoot them, they die like anyone else. The blade with your name on it hasn't been forged yet, Tanilus Veltax."

Nilia began to go over her armor as well, running diagnostic programs on the barrier generator, life support systems, heating system and other systems specifically included into the suit on the request of Blackwatch. When one compared the amount of credits a single suit of Blackwatch armor was prized at to that of the regular sets of protective gear given to turian soldiers, one would realise that you could equip a turian platoon for the cost of a single Blackwatch member.

Now they just needed the word of their general.

* * *

 _Human Mercenary Intervention 2387/88 AD_

 _The conflict dubbed as 'Human Mercenary Intervention' began after Eclipse, the Blood Pack and several smaller Terminus mercenary outfits carried out attacks against three human colonies. Fehl Prime, New Canton and Ferris Fields._

 _The colonies, established only shortly after the Fringe Wars (see Entry Series 'Fringe Wars') were kept secret from the greater galactic community as a means to protect them but later, due to the actions of former Councilor Belaria Tevos, their locations were revealed to the mercenary outfits._

 _After the attacks had claimed the lives of 38.000 humans, the HSA mobilized to a level not seen since the second year of the Fringe Wars and launched a series of offensives deep into the Terminus, using intelligence gathered by an unknown benefactor to systematically raid outposts, bases and slavery camps owned by the companies._

 _After several months, the Blood Pack had been reduced to a disorganized series of planet bound warbands and Eclipse was stuck in a guerilla war against the superior human military._

 _The conflict also divided the Council, the Turian Hierarchy openly supporting the human crusade against crime in the Terminus while both asari and salarian activist groups flat out called certain orders, especially the standing order not to take any krogan or vorcha prisoners, a warcrime. Furthermore the Asari Republics and Salarian Union, both having major colonies near and within the Terminus Systems called the intervention an 'unnecessary provocation of a dangerous galactic power' (Matriarch T'Shala 2130 CE)._

 _The Human Mercenary Intervention ended in July 2388, one month after the death of Eclipse's leader Jona Sederis and left a power vacuum which would be filled by the rising star of the Terminus, a mostly human/turian mercenary outfit called the Blue Suns ( See Entry 'Blue Suns'), seen by the people of the galaxy as a rogue vigilante organization seeking to re-establish the 'order' in a lawless part of the galaxy in their own twisted crusade against crime._

 _Estimated casualties number anywhere from one million up to two point five million on mercenaries' side, most of which were vorcha, with HSA records numbering their own dead at 48,291 and their wounded at 51,012, including the casuatlies sustained in the three opening attacks._

 _The conflict served as a show of force in favour of the HSA but also reminding the Council that the Terminus, as big and threatening as it may appear, is still no match for any galactic power due to it's decentralized nature. Furthermore the concept of carrier ships became more prominent after human naval assets dominated the space battles of the conflict._

* * *

 **A/N: Soooo, confession. I've been playing a ton of Stellaris lately, hence the delayed update. Sorry folks. Also had a little writer's blockade but I think I'm back in shape, I've got a ton of stuff I wanna do. School also took off some of my time, it's the last weeks now. Soon I'll be done.**

 **I do have a thing for writing the last thoughts people have before dying, don't I?**

 **I hope you liked the chapter, this kind of concluded the whole mercenary arc and yes... the Blue Suns are a thing but they will be slightly different here, I've got a plan folks. Kind of. Next chapter will PROBABLY be the last set in 2388 and we'll soon have a time skip of some 5 years or so. Moving the story forward.**

 **214 favorites and 268 follows, not bad guys. Not bad.**

 **Tell me this chapter was worth the wait, again sorry again, Review though. I like reviews.**

 **Do it.**

 **See you around next time.**


	13. The Patient Hunter

**Chapter 13. The Patient Hunter**

* * *

 **2130 CE THS Silus, Medical Bay**

The first thing he felt was the lack of feeling in his chest. Then the light headedness became apparent.

Saren opened his eyes and the bright ceiling lamps attacked him, his predatory ancestry doing well to adapt as quickly as possible to the change. When he realised that he was in fact not dead, he sat up.

"Easy there, Arterius," he heard a voice, he couldn't quite make out who it belonged to though, it was coming from his left. "Take it slow or you'll start bleeding again," Hepsus said, looking like he hadn't slept in days. "You've just been in surgery again, you shouldn't even be up right now," he explained.

"How long was I out?" Saren questioned, a dry feeling making itself known in his mouth, causing him to reach for a bottle just a bit too far away for him to grasp.

Hepsus, understanding his comrade's intent, grabbed the drink, opened it and handed it to him.

"Five days."

"Damn."

Then the memories of his last moments came back to him.

"Spirits, Bassilo?" Silence was all he got. "Is he alright, Hepsus?"

"He didn't make it, bled out in the casevac shuttle, the round tore his main artery open. Lost too much blood." the cabal explained, sounding detached as if that would make it easier.

Saren's free talon dug themselves into the bed he was lying on, tearing fabric as his mandibles twitched into a mix out of anger and sadness.

Everything had been pointless.

"It's not your fault, Saren," the other turian said, strangely addressing him with his first name.

"If I had been faster," he began, guilt crawling up his spine.

"Don't do this to yourself, the only one to blame is that sniper."

"Did we get him?" he asked anger evident in his voice. Hepsus was right. This was the enemies fault, not his.

"A Jiris turned the entire mountain into a series of craters, bastard is probably just mush now," Hepsus replied.

"Did I miss anything else?" Saren questioned. There was a time and place to grieve, it wasn't in a hospital bed.

"Asari councilor got arrested, turns out she's responsible for the attacks last year," Hepsus said, a thinking expression appearing on his scaly face,"Oh, and the HSA killed Jona Sederis two days ago with the help of some cabals."

"I was less interested in politics and more interested in our mission, Hepsus," Saren sighed, at least the other turian had tried. Although he would have to educate himself on these subjects as well.

"TNI claimed every single enemy casualty, Tunae Prime is now under quarantine, something about a potential biological weapon being released by accident."

"Are w-?"

"No, we're fine. No one on the ground caught it, by some miracle really. Anyway as I was saying, they shipped the bodies of the Silus during the night rotation. No one knows where they took them," Hepsus explained. "And they tore the whole base apart, arrived with a cruiser. They took everything from that planet."

"That's just plain weird."

"Glad we see eye to eye on this one," Hepsus chuckled. "I'll go tell the squad you're up, need anything?"

Saren remembered the recordings. "Can you bring me my omni-tool? I think I got a lot of catching up to do."

"You just want to watch porn, admit it, Arterius," the other turian said as he got up. "I'll be back soon."

"Five days are a long time, you wouldn't even last two!" Saren called after him as the cabal raised one of his arms, waving him goodbye as he walked out of the medbay.

* * *

 **2130 CE,** **Dis System,** **THS Umbra**

Jartar was the place this mess began and as far as Desolas was concerned, he'd do good to retrace Haliat's steps one by one to figure out where the pirates took the artifact and where Haliat had vanished to. The search on Tunae-Prime and the planet on which Haliat had betrayed his unit had turned up nothing, therefore this was their only other clue.

The stealth drives of the frigates used by the Blackwatch were still mere prototypes but they worked as intended, masking the ship from anything but direct, visual identification.

"Three batarian Hensa cruisers in orbit, all of the using IFFs of the Batarian External Forces," the captain of the frigate informed Desolas. "First scans indicate that at least 400 batarian soldiers are roaming the surface, they are looking for something, General Arterius."

Standing in his black-golden armor, the general was truly a sight to behold. Already an intimidating turian, the armor just added to the sheer command presence that radiated of the turian general. Desolas walked over to the junior officer in charge of ground control and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Ensign Adalius, can you show me the highest concentration of batarian forces?" he asked.

"Yes, right away General," the junior officer said, somewhat nervous. She switched the image to an area of the planet Desolas knew all to well.

He held up his omni-tool, the picture of Haliat's deployment area appearing above his wrist.

Then he held the picture next to that the ensign had just shown him.

"It's the same place, isn't it?" he asked although he already knew the answer.

"Yes it is, Sir. Concentration is focused around the last deployment site of Captain Haliat's unit. However a site considered a secondary objective during the last operation, the site which we suspect the pirates originally came from, is only guarded by a fraction of the batarian ground forces. No more than twenty guards from what I can tell. There could be more deeper below the ground though."

"Good work, Ensign. Get back to it, let me worry about any batarians hidden down there," he said, petting her shoulder and walking back to the captain. There was no point in assault such a large force with a single team. He had to adapt. If he couldn't trace Haliat's steps, he could at least trace those of the pirates. After all, they were connected.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Captain, how long until we can deploy for orbital infiltration? I want to investigate the secondary objective."

"One hour. Sir, if I may suggest something?"

"Of course Captain Isarius, naval matters are your area of expertise."

"Jartar has only a trace atmosphere but due to that, sound travels relatively bad across its surface. Coupling this with the modified engines of the Umbra's shuttles, we can deploy you almost on top of the enemy with next to no risk of being heard. The batarians aren't capable of detecting the newest generation of our stealth shuttle either, therefore eliminating radar detection. In addition to that, using Jartar's natural terrain we'll also be able to limit the risk for visual detection. It'll save you a lot of marching distance, General."

"And you are confident in your pilots ability to execute that maneuver, Captain Isarius?"

"Absolutely Sir, we've trained that very maneuver in the past under similar conditions with confiscated batarian equipment. My crew has my complete faith."

"Good thinking, Captain. Let's get to it then. I'll be with my team, make the necessary preparations."

The captain gave Desolas a sharp salute causing the general to return it before walking out of the combat information center of the Umbra and towards the elevator in order to reach deck 3, the location of his team. The doors opened and he stepped inside, pressing the button. The doors began to close only for a hand to reach between them at the last moment, holding the elevator.

"Good day, General Arterius," a familiar voice greeted.

"Good day, Lieutenant Callius, I was actually on my way to you."

"I was on my way to you too, I have news. Your brother woke up," she said. "I thought you'd like to know, Sir."

"You were correct," Desolas replied as he brought up his omni-tool, looking for the contact named 'Saren', once he found it he began to type a short message. "We'll insert on Jartar via the Umbra and a shuttle." Desolas added while writing his brother that they would soon see each other and that there were certain things they had to talk about.

"Very well, Sergeants Veltax and Galviat are already geared up. Just waiting for your word, Sir, though they might be slightly disappointed about not being able to march towards our target," the Lieutenant said, her last statement only somewhat sarcastic.

"Lets go for a hunt, Lieutenant."

* * *

 **10.** **June, 2388 AD, HSASV London**

After having been cleared by the medical officer, having been debriefed and congratulated by Admiral Jun and having written a series of letters Anderson had just one more thing to do.

Write the last one.

"Dear Mrs. Abrami, it is with regret that I have to inform you," he voiced the sentence in his head. "it is with regret that I have to inform you that your husband Master Chief Petty Officer Santino Abrami was killed in action.

That didn't quite feel right. Too formal.

"It is with regret that I have to inform you that your husband and my friend Santino Abrami gave his life in order to save others."

This was better, he began typing.

"Due to the Master Chief's actions, the mission was a succ-" he couldn't write that, Santino's wife didn't care if the mission was a success or not. She cared that her husband was dead.

"Due to Santino's bravery, his fellow soldiers, including me, were saved in the face of insurmountable odds."

He drew in a breath and stared at the screen, writing the other letters had been easier, if one could call something like that easy, this one was tough.

"Humanity owns a debt to your husband, it can never repay," he continued. "With Master Chief Abrami, the navy lost an exemplary sold-" again, nothing something a wife would want to hear right now.

"With Santino, all of us lost a comrade, friend and brother that one rarely finds." That was better, at least he hoped it was. "I personally own your husband a debt, I can never repay but I will do my best to honor our friendship."

Just one more thing to do.

"In N7, we look out for our own," he added his personal contact information to the letter. "If there ever is anything you need, anything we can help you with, do not hesitate. Sincerely, Lieutenant David Anderson, Naval Special Operations Command, N7."

He sighed and pressed the button to sent the letter. Such was the nature of their profession.

* * *

 **2130 CE, Dis System, Jartar**

Desolas was grateful that his armor shielded him from the hot air outside which would burn his unplated skin the moment it was able to touch him.

He knew why the batarian outposts were located in caves, down there the temperature was bearable, shielded from the hot gases by the cold earth. One such cave, the one Haliat's Blackwatch team had explored, was right in front of him. A lone vehicle of the Batarian External Forces parked in front of a tunnel created by the volcanic activity of the planet..

"You'd think they'd guard this place better," Galviat said as the unit crept up next to the brownish vehicle, the sigil of Batarian State Arms making it clear that this transport was the property of the Batarian Hegemony.

"They are looking for something they know not to be inside of there, Galviat," Desolas said as his head peaked around the edge of the vehicle, spotting only a lone batarian observing the horizon opposite to them, a boxy, equally brown Terminator assault rifle pointed at the ground while his comrade checked something on his omni-tool. "This place is low priority. Keep your eyes on those two guards, Veltax," Desolas finished and as soon as the order was spoken his Blackwatch guard moved sideways and pointed his Phaeston at the couple after which his general began to slowly walk towards the tunnel up ahead, his team right on his heels, Veltax ready to dispatch his targets should the need arise following as the last of the group.

Entering the cave, the night vision gear inside Desolas helmet activated itself once the rocky walls began to block out most light from the outside, while his suit also informed him that the temperature was slowly decreasing and that Jartar's residue atmosphere was slowly being replaced by the one created by batarian atmosphere generators.

The four turians continued their walk through the cave, drops of water sporadically dripping from the ceiling and creating small puddles, which they took care to avoid in order to minimize the sound they created, on the dark grey rock. Desolas took his steps carefully, each one calculated as if a predator was just waiting for them to make themselves known. years of practice did good on helping him achieve that goal as the general's personal guard followed him in equally practiced fashion. The Blackwatch team kept a slow pace, the thought of some batarian external force member hearing their steps, now made audible by the presence of an artificial atmosphere, and trapping them in the kill zone that was this narrow corridor ever present in their mind as they advanced.

"The location of the research camp is just up ahead, General," Lieutenat Callius injected. "Some batarians moving around the area," she added as a cone of light became visible at the end of the corridor at which point it reached into a bigger cave. "Medium sized metal structure in the center of the cave."

Walking closer towards the cone of light, his night vision gear once more shut itself off. Desolas crouched down behind a series of rocky extensions, reaching out from the floor of the cave, and aligned his Phaeston with his eyes, scanning the bigger cave up ahead with his rifle. In its center, the brown form of a batarian colonial building, most likely assembled inside the cave itself, given the lack of any entry big enough to just lift a prefab inside, stood in the light of a series of floodlights, somewhat mimicking daylight. He spotted one batarian soldier, his helmet removed due to the presence of the atmospheric generators, leaning against the door way, a Terminator rifle resting in his arms, his brown helmet matching his reddish skin shade. The four eyes of the soldier were focused on the boxy rifle, checking its details instead of scanning his surroundings.

He moved his sights away from the batarian outside of the building as his unit moved up while using rocks and the fading darkness of the cave as cover. Next he found a sniper, a Kishock Harpoon gun placed on a window ledge located on the second level of the colonial building, the sniper, unlike his comrade, had not removed his helmet. Instead four yellow eye slits looked through the scope of the gun, one which had been fired at Desolas in past deployments, and stared straight at the light cone up ahead, intending on shooting any unwanted guests at a moments notice.

"That's a biotic walking up the front door," Veltax observed. "AMP in his neck, only carrying a pistol, bandolier full of inferno grenades."

"Priority target," Desolas finished his comrade's line of thought. "Galviat, put him in your sights, Lieutenant, you'll have to take care of the sniper on the second floor."

His subordinates moved across the dark, rocky surface of the tunnel and crept ever closer towards the light of the main cave, their eyes on their targets, ready to strike once they got the order. Desolas himself, still leaning around the rock for cover, shifted away from the batarian biotic, looking for more enemies in his line of sight. Moving across his field of vision, he found what he was looking for, as another two batarians walked towards the first batarian he had spotted, who was still inspecting his Terminator rifle.

"Veltax, we'll take care of those three. We'll each eliminate one and shift our aim to bring down the third with combined strength."

His orders were fulfilled at a moments notice as the last turian of his unit also moved into position, resting his Phaeston on a rock to steady his aim. Kneeling down the turian began to slow down his breath.

"Anyone else on the motion scanner?"

"Just five other life signs."

With everyone in position, no other foes in the area and the right moment to strike drawing ever closer, Desolas himself aligned his rifle with the batarian he had originally spotted, lighting up his target laser and noting that his team was doing the same, four batarians now doomed without their own knowledge.

"Execute," his finger squeezed the trigger, a mechanical process beginning in his brain.

The round fired by Galviat was a phasic one, tearing through barriers and biotic protection alike. It bypassed the protective field around the batarian biotic and drilled itself into the four-eyed skull, red blood shooting out of the sizeable hole created in place of his nostrils.

The Lieutenant's burst took longer to take down the target but the cover of darkness still enabled her to eliminate the sniper she had been assigned without him getting off a shoot. Her target dropped the Kishock Harpoon down the window as his body slumped forward, red blood running down the wall of the building as his life ended by the hands of a Blackwatch soldier.

The group targeted by Desolas and Veltax didn't suffer such 'pretty deaths', instead simply being riddled by the rapid firing Phaestons the two soldiers had aimed at their three targets. The sand grain sized rounds subjected the batarian soldiers to a hellfire of kinetic energy as each of them was hit by dozens of small projectiles, shattering barriers, penetrating armor and shredding flesh, bone and muscle. The first batarian, who had been taken by complete surprised dropped his rifle as red mist erupted from his back, the force of the rounds making him jerk before he slid down the wall, several red stains appearing as his body revealed the brown metal behind him. Veltax target instead turned around just as his armor was breached, tripping forward as the rounds did their work, his head falling right into the turian's line of fire, ending him as a single round turned his brain to mush. The last batarian was torn apart as two Phaestons, a rifle other militaries such as the Salarian Union's ground forces considered a light machine gun given its magazine capacity and rate of fire, concentrated their bite on him. The rounds of Desolas, coming from the right, tore through the batarians hand carrying the rifle and caused him to drop the weapon before the turians aim found his heart, at the same time Veltax simply sliced through the batarians left side with precise shooting, damaging lungs and bigger blood vessels as he shifted his deadly attention.

As fast as the shooting had started, it ended. Five batarians dead, nothing but the steps of the Blackwatch operatives moving up echoing through the cave.

The four elite soldiers walked into the light, Desolas turning his attention towards the blood stained door as his rifle aimed at it, halfway expecting a batarian slaver with a shotgun to jump out and shoot him in the face while holding an asari child in front of him for protection.

That mission had been particularly nasty. Slavers were simply the scourge of this galaxy.

Past memories vanishing as he mentally forced them down the hole they had crawled out of, Desolas came to a stop just in front of the door, the red body fluids of a batarian staining his armor's feet somewhat weirdly as they clashed with its black colour.

Galviat stepped past him, placing his sniper rifle on his back, now shouldering his own Phaeston given the close quarter combat ahead of him, and placed a hand on the manual opening of the aging batarian building.

Desolas nodded towards him and the turian pulled the lever, the door swinging inwards as Galviat gave it a shove. Desolas, leading by example as expected from any Blackwatch officer, was the first through the door. Spotting nothing in front of him, he shifted towards the side the door had opened to as the second soldier through the door covered the other side. He was again greeted by nothing, finally leaning around just so he could see past the door, checking for any hidden hostiles.

"Clear," Veltax called as he covered an entry to another room.

"Clear," Desolas echoed, his side equally peaceful. "Check those side rooms." he said keeping his eyes trained on the door in front of him. "Then we move forward."

A series of metal thuds sounded behind him as two Blackwatch soldiers forced open doors and entered the rooms, no gunfire indicating that the Lieutenants scan had been correct. They were in fact alone.

Desolas felt the hand on his shoulder as he began to move, Galviat once more stepping past him to repeat the process with the door up ahead.

It swung open ,revealing a batarian lab and a stair way upwards. The lab was messy, terminals, notes, geological samples and wiring covering the place as Desolas moved forward, turning the corner and staring down a very familiar sight, lining the shelves of the laboratory, some of them placed on the ground. Wires and other scanning equipment were attached to them, apparently the batarians were in the process of finding out just what these were.

He wasn't interested in any of that. He knew enough.

"Back. Now. Fast," he ordered as purple, smooth spheres greeted him. They were the same size as Haliat's unit had encountered only it wasn't just one. No by his count it had to be atleast five. Five spheres hardly guarded by the batarians. Untold numbers of them possibly just out of sight.

His unit did as they were told and double timed out of the room as if it would blow any second. Desolas himself lingered, ignoring his own advice and lowering his rifle as he noted one of the spheres looking slightly different. It reminded him of an ancient sticky grenade, spikes extending from the spheres interior and reaching in all directions, a camera pointed at it from one of the tables, wiring that looked like it belonged to the sphere itself laid out on a table next to it. They were running tests on these things.

"General," he heard as he gazed at the spheres, something about them just made him curious. He dismissed the call of his Lieutenant with a wave of his hand. His mind began to race. The pirates had stole the spheres, the batarians were now securing the planet but they considered a dozen of the things expendable? Such a low priority that only a fraction of the ground forces were guarding this place? The had to know what these things could do. Batarians weren't above using slaves for experiments and this place looked aged. Surely they had been down here long enough to figure out it's effects?

Something wasn't right here. Sure, the Umbra had been undetected but Desolas himself would never leave such a location with such a small unit. Unless those spheres were so plentiful on Jartar that a few dozen were to the Hegemony what a few credits were to a rich asari matriarch. Insignificant.

His instincts had never failed Desolas and right now they were telling him that someone wanted him to find these spheres.

"General!" he heard, shaking his head as he stopped focusing on the smooth outlines of the artifact. He had seen what these things could do, no need to push the spirits of fate today. One Arterius had already been spared by them, he'd hate to tempt them once more. He walked out of the room and found his unit looking at him.

He almost fell for his unknown foes trap. Luckily he wasn't alone, a turian could always rely on his comrades.

"You've been in there for two minutes Sir," the Lieutenant said. "Are you alright?"

"I' fine," he said, somewhat surprised that two minutes had seemed like mere seconds. This really had been a close one.

"Whatever these fools dug up here, we'll burry it. There is a reason they left them here for us to find. I won't take the chance with these thing," Desolas ordered with resolve in his voice. "I want this cave collapsed, can you do that Veltax?"

"Yes, Sir. I'll just need some time to place the demolition charges in the right places."

"Make it happen as fast as possible. For all we know these things are biological weapons, primed to do to us whatever they did to Haliat," Veltax and Galviat hurried out of the room, beginning their task.

"Sir, if we blow this cave our trail goes cold," Lieutenant Callius said, now alone with him. "We should grab whatever we can and follow the trail here on Jartar."

"If we don't blow this cave, by this time tomorrow I might shoot you in the back, Lieutenant," Desolas countered. "If the trail goes cold but I prevent that from happening, I'll gladly take that chance. Whatever the batarians found here needs to be can't leave this place. It's far too dangerous."

The general closed the door behind him. "Inform the Umbra that we'll pull out for now. Tell them to prepare quarantine for me. I want to be on lockdown for the next two days. For all we know those things already accomplished their purpose on me."

"Yes, Sir," the Lieutenant replied as both of them walked out of the room. "Might I suggest something?"

"Speak your mind."

"The batarians must have killed some pirates during the attack on their research team, I give them that much credit. If we find those bodies, we might also find whatever clues they have gathered on them," the Lieutenant said her hands moving in an explanatory fashion. "The Hegemony might support piracy in the Terminus, but not if it concerns their own space. They hunt them down just as any other government. I assume they'd be even more 'eager' to find this particular group of rogues given the nature of their operation on Jartar."

"Instead of focusing on the trail laid by our prey and seeing it go cold, we stalk the predator following it with more success than us. Striking it down when it reaches its target," Desolas mused. "You were right to speak up, Lieutenant Callius. This was a good idea."

"I have my moments, Sir."

The two walked out of the building just as Veltax began to apply charges to a rather important looking stone pillar. "I'll make it look like a natural collapse, Sir."

"Make sure the bodies are damaged to such a degree that the batarians won't be able to tell they were shot."

"Of course, Sir." Veltax said. "Lieutenant, could you be so kind and lift that dead sniper out of there?"

"Just this once," the turian woman joked as she began to glow purple, engulfing the corpse in biotic energy. "And just because you asked so nicely."

"You treat me so well, Ma'am."

The corpse began to float down just as Galviat began to drag the corpses away from the building and towards the stone pillar, increasing the chance that they'd be burried and mangled by falling rocks.

"Any idea where the Hegemony would take the corpses of the pirates?" the Lieutenant asked him as she dropped the batarian sniper.

"I know where I'd store them." Desolas replied. "But you won't like it."

"Where, Sir?" Veltax asked as he placed yet another charge.

"Medical section of the cruiser. Keeping the corpses cold until experts arrive for examination."

"Sounds like we're going for a little space excursion," Galviat called as he dropped the batarian biotic down on the pile he had started. "Just what I was looking forward to."

* * *

 **10.** **June, 2388 AD, Cronos Station**

"With Sederis dead, we just need to wrap up the last resistance pockets and the matter will be concluded," he said, his gaze held on the glass in his hand, the liquid in it swirling as he moved his hand in a circular pattern.

"IFS sympathies are growing though," the other man said, the lighting of the room obscuring his face in the shadow while shining on the red dagger on his uniform. "The army has been cracking down on cells but with every one we clear, two more seem to appear."

"The situation is growing rather bleak, I have to agree on that," Harper said as he took a sip of his drink. "What is your take on this new, xenophobic movement on Shanxi? I hear they are starting to draw in Iffy sympathizers and regular people alike. Worrying, isn't it?"

"Yes, this whole 'Terra Firma' thing has been growing exceptionally fast on Shanxi. The worst part is that it was founded by a guy the army recently arrested for breaking the curfew, we can't keep making our own enemies," the man agreed.

"Rei," Harper said as the man in the background stepped forward, revealing a scarred asian face. "What if I told you that resurging separatism in the Fringe isn't our main issue at the moment?"

"What happened?" the other man asked as he raised an eye-brow, not taking the bait.

"Do you recall what happened to my eyes?" Jack Harper said as he turned around in his chair, blue artificial orbs meeting the brown eyes of his former Section 13 partner.

"They found another one?" the man said, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the unnatural shade of blue. "When?"

"Word is some pirates stole it from the Batarian Hegemony, turian special forces tracked them down, one of them turned on the others. Now, after engaging the pirates on 'Tunae Prime', the Hierarchy has sealed of parts of the Hades Gamma cluster."

"What does Task Force Lightbringer say about all this?" 'Ryōshi' asked, referring to the Cerberus unit with the sole assignment of gathering as much of the Shadow Brokers knowledge as possible while trying to get a fix on the secretive information broker's position. Tracking the broker of course had the pleasent side effect of learning some of the things his agents told him in the progress.

"Surprisingly little," Harper replied. "Only that Turian Naval Intelligence has claimed all hostile corpses from an engagement with the pirates before shipping them off to god knows where. The details are spotty, apparently even the Shadow Broker can't quiet break turian secrecy like he can do to the batarians but the word 'unknown cybernetic augmentations' caught our attention."

"I can see why it would. I presume you are asking me to go to the Hades Gamma Cluster to find it?"

"This is something I can't entrust my strike teams with. This needs the attention of someone who knows how dangerous these things are," Harper explained. "Furthermore everything linked to Object Omnicron is still classified to anyone outside of Section 13. Not even the Chancellor is aware of its existance, let alone my encounter with it back in 2379."

"He's really buying that they are just experimental prosthetics? I figure you would've told him by now really." the specialist blurted out.

"I am one of the few Section 13 specialists he ever had a face to face with. For all he knows half of us could walk around with blue, shiny eyes and robot arms." Harper muttered. "If there are more of these things out there, we have to take them out of the equation," Harper rose from his chair. "You are my first pick on this one Tao, you saw what they can do. You were with me when we found them."

"Jack, are you sure that this isn't something the Chancellor should know of?"

"All in due time, right now the government would just waste our time. Debating won't solve this issue, just give it more time to grow."

"Just because we were given autonomy during the Fringe Wars, doesn't mean we should exercise it in times of peace, you should know that Jack. We are still serving the HSA. We need to be accountable for our actions, especially in situations like this."

"Ryōshi, you should know that sacrifices have to be made in order to ensure humanity's survival. This time, we have to sacrifice parts of the truth to do our job. If we inform Chancellor Noé, therefore not using our right to autonomy in face of serious issues, we allow another Object Omnicron to do its bidding with no one there to keep it in check until he gives us the go ahead," Harper reasoned as he handed him a tablet computer. "I've written up a detailed report on the matter alongside a briefing. You know this is the right thing to do."

The man across him took the tablet as he began to read, showing his final agreement with Harper.

"You are leaving in four hours, the director already cleared the operation," Harper said and the man began to leave. "Watch your back out there, Tao. This is a tough one."

"It'll be easier if I don't have to watch yours as well, Jack," the specialist joked.

With that he left the director of Cerberus alone on the viewing deck of Cronos Station, only a white star keeping him company as he lit another cigarette. He inhaled the smoke, a calming sensation rushing through his body and picked up what he had been working on before. Sometimes he missed simply being in the field, less administrative work and more movement had always been his preferable environment. But he couldn't be picky right now.

He knew first hand how serious this situation was.

* * *

 **2130 CE, THS Silus, Medical Bay**

Making sure everyone else was asleep, he turned on the omni-tool Hepsus had delivered when he had returned with the rest of Saren's squad. After booting it up, a new message popped up in the corner of his omni-tool, sent by his eldest brother, Desolas Arterius.

"Saren, I've heard you're up. I've spoken to Kabalim Vitallion, apparently he's thinking about recommending you for the Nova Cluster for your bravery," he read. "I'm sorry about your comrade but this is the oath we took. Death is part of our duty, do not feel guilty about him," he kept reading, Desolas voice narrating the message in his mind. "Mother and the rest of their family are sending their congratulations and hope you get well soon, they're glad to hear you're awake,", of course, no direct mention of his father. Not that it surprised him really. "There are a lot of things we have to talk about Saren, I have been keeping a secret from our family for far too long, I don't think I have to keep it from you anymore," Saren's mandibles clicked into a thinking expression once more as he kept reading. What was Desolas talking about? "We'll see each other soon, there's a lot we have to discuss. Until then, know that my thoughts are with you, brother. You've done good, I couldn't be more proud of you."

He closed the message, a warmth creeping up from inside him as he read the final words, then his mind shifted. A new thought forming inside his head as he saw the 'download completed' notification in the left corner of the omni-tools projection.

There were still two recordings left which he hadn't seen yet. Two recordings Saren was certain he needed to see.

He pressed play and Elanos Haliat returned to the 'screen' of his omni-tool, the background matching that of the prefab he had found the recording in. Haliat looked different, there were fine blue lines running under his face and no signs of the injuries he had sustained just days before.

"The artifact healed me. No, it didn't just heal me. It improved me," the Blackwatch officer began. "It has shown me things, things I can't quite grasp yet but it still makes sense now. All of it really," he rambled. "How could we not see it? It was obvious. This entire time we've been living a lie. Our entire understanding based on a faulty assumption," the turian laughed, sounding equally amused and desperate.

What in the name of the spirits was he talking about?

"I feel stronger than before, more alive than I've ever felt," the turian said, yellow eyes now turned blue, his voice different from last time. Deeper. "The artifact is just a piece in all of this, just another pawn in a game played since long before we even rose from Palaven," Haliat said. "Compared to its master, we're insignificant but its gifts can still benefit us. There is still hope for us. With its powers, we can create a new breed of soldier. A breed that will be able to endure what's to come."

Haliat shifted in his chair, looking over his shoulder as if he was being watched.

"Some of the pirates refused to embrace its touch, we delivered them from their wrong path. The rest of us now serves its purpose," This was strange, Saren remembered how Haliat thought the artifact was a threat to the Hierarchy just two days before this recording, how even the pirates had thought the same.

"I was wrong about its nature," he explained as he got up and began to pace the room again, "If only they could've seen it, they would've been useful pawns in the battles to come," Haliat turned towards the camera, the appearance of his body sending shivers down Saren's spine, blue lines everywhere, a mechanical talon in place of his left, organic one, his stance somewhat hunched. No sign of the person that had made the last recording, let alone the two before. The recording ended there, no sign of anyone actually pressing the stop button, just a frozen frame of a deformed turian soldier staring at the viewer.

Saren shook his head and opened the last file, made mere hours before his unit had raided the base.

"They are coming, they are trying to take it away from me. I won't let them have it. I've ordered the pirates to hide the artifact, bring it somewhere safe," the turian said, clutching his head in pain. "Something is in my head, I can feel it. Ever since the artifact's touch grew more distant, I've been in doubt," the turian said. "Is there justice in my acti-"

He suddenly snarled, jumping up from his sitting position, throwing his chair across the room. "I can't doubt myself now," he whispered. "I can't doubt my actions, it is far too late for that," he repeated himself, his stance shifting as if he was fighting an invisible opponent, knife drawn without him even noticing it, walking in circles, facing whoever it was Haliat thought to be in the room, expecting the first strike. For nearly a minute, the turian captain remained silent, facing off against a fragment of his imagination. Then, as suddenly as he had drawn it, he dropped the blade and walked back up to the camera, his voice becoming clearer. "But I have to. There was no justice in what I did, there was no reason for my actions, I've been deceived, misguided," Haliat began to type away at the personal terminal, his exact intent hidden by the angle of the camera.

"I know someone will find this," he declared, once more sounding like the officer in the first recording, his eyes slightly less blue, a taint of yellow appearing, a sense of urgency in his tone. "The humming, spirits the humming already should've tipped me off," he chuckled nervously. "The voices, I try to fight them but they are too strong." he explained, the tone of urgency becoming even more noticeable. "I've felt its grasp lighten at times only for the shadows to return without warning, I'll lock the computer and these logs to the outside and myself." Then his voice shifted again as he withdrew from the terminal, snarling like a caged varren, fighting a battle within himself.

"No the artifact is righ-, I am still," he declared, voice sounding deeper, the blue in his eyes starting to glow ever more aggressive but dying down again as the Blackwatch officer smashed his remaining organic hand against the side of his head. "The shadows are closing in, I feel myself fading away while something else is replacing me piece by piece," he shook his head, the blue almost vanishing. "Locking the terminal now. If anyone finds this and comes looking for me, kill me, don't hesitate. I am beyond saving. Don't get near the artifact, no matter how tempting its call appears, no matter what the voices promise. There is som-"

He snarled once more, almost sounding like an animal, defiance evident in his eyes as blue began to creep up. As his organic hand visibly stopped the mechanical one from reaching the screen, Haliat looked into the camera for a final time. "I am too far gone. Its grasp is returning. I can feel it, this is the end of me. I can't fight it, not again. I'm sorry, I failed."

The recording ended as the turian entered a final command into the terminal. Haliat's eyes once more completely blue. This was only a shell of the turian that had created the first recording out of boredom but a small spark of hope remained in his eyes. A hope that someone would heed his message, find the recordings. Act on his warning.

That someone had been Saren.

He thought about what he heard, what he had learned. Something out there, something not even a Blackwatch officer was able to fight but merley delay, was waiting for its moment to strike. A predator lurking in the dark, ready to jump its unsuspecting prey. The galaxy needed someone to stand against it, someone who'd seen this recording. It needed someone who'd shine a light into the dark hiding spot of whatever creature lurked in the shadows.

Then and there in a hospital bed aboard the THS Silus, Saren Arterius made a choice that would define his life and his legacy.

He'd be the one to carry the torch.

* * *

 _Codex: Fringe Wars 2378 AD_

 _2378 AD began with the election of Francis Noé, the earth-born politician becoming acting chancellor after the previous government stepped down. Born in 2329 to a working class family, Lieutenant Commander Francis Noé only entered the political playground in 2364 after completing a 25 year contract as a fighter pilot of the HSA Navy._

 _Before his appointment, the man had been called 'reactionary', 'pragmatic' and 'aggressive' by his advesaries, making him an unlikely candidate to be elected during stable peace times. However his past history of military service and his alignment with the Systems Alliance Foundation (SAF), the oldest party of the HSA, turned him into an attractive candidate in times of war and instability._

 _In his opening speech, addressing a parliament consisting of only 74% of its previous size, some now members of the IFS senate, others dead, the chancellor called for a large scale offensive into the Fringe while using his constitutional emergency executive order to give parts of the HSA Intelligence Service, namely Section 13 (See Entry 'Human Systems Alliance Intelligence Service') autonomy of action in face of extreme danger or short notice deployments. Said standing order, considered by many as a complete violation of the balance of power, remains active as of today._

 _The most quoted part of the speech, largely considered the reason for the parliament voting in favor of a bigger military offensive being, 'If we do not act now, if we do not show resolve in face of rebellion, terrorism and outright injustice, can we really claim to represent humanity's best interest? Can we simply sit in the safety of Arcturus's walls while our soldiers wait for us to decide? I ask only one thing of you. Give our troops, give my comrades the opportunity to fight these traitors. Give humanity something it needs right now. Strength, hope. Let's show these Iffy bastards what's coming for them."_

 _Followed by the change of office, the HSA's military began to draw up plans, moving from counter insurgency operations to all out war in a matter of five weeks. The early months of 2378 were dominated by IFS units being routed as the HSA Navy and Marine Corps began to decimate them with the help of orbital supremacy._

 _The series of victories was interrupted on April 13th 2378 in brutal fashion, called the Dark Thursday by naval veterans, the 27 missing warships returned in a surprise attack on a rally point of HSA naval assets, destroying 19 ships docking in port above Bekenstein, one being the dreadnought 'HSASV Broad Peak' waiting for troops to board it before bombarding the colonial world targeting civilian and military installations alike, killing a total of 610.231 people, only some 20.000 being military personal._

 _Shaken by the attack, the HSA government gave a massive order to the military industrial complex, beginning the construction of the Sun Tzu Assault Carriers, while mobilizing the resources of every world to expand the navy and replace losses, the Fringe Wars escalating to be an all out stellar war between two human governments._

 _Followed by the Dark Thursday, the HSA, fuelled by a desire for vengeance, began 'Operation Back Breaker', starting the all out invasion of Mindoir, Port Bigby and Camelot. The fighting on three of the original Separatist Seven worlds would last well into 2379._

 _The year ended with several naval skirmishes as IFS forces began the construction of several naval vessels using the industrial base of the Fringe to supply their armed forces. By December 2378 the casualty count of the Fringe Wars had climbed to 20.8 million people, 17.5 of which had died during the last twelve months._

* * *

 **A/N: So I know this one's a little shorter than usual but I just felt like its good like it is right now so this is all you're getting today. :)**

 **A bit longer codex today, second part of the Fringe Wars finally revealed and other details about Harper' past surfacing. Truly an exciting chapter.**

 **I tried to portrait Desolas as the kind of leader that would make anyone follow them, I don't know if he actually is like this in the comics since I never read them but right here he is so yeah.**

 **Review and let me know what you think guys, right now we're at 233 favorites and 290 follows. 91 reviews. Can we crack 100 reviews and 300 follows with this chapter? Would be really nice. Other than that I don't have much to say besides thanks for everyone reading this, really appreciate you guys and your feedback. Keep the review coming guys.**

 **Seriously, I am addicted to them. Give me my fix.**

 **See you around next time.**


	14. Crew Expendable

**Chapter 14. Crew Expendable**

* * *

 **11\. June 2388 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy**

"So they are already pushing for a withdrawal?" the chancellor replied, his voice somewhat altered by the comm buoy network.

"The salarians are, the turians continue their support of our actions though. Ioventus still has our back."

"What about the asari?"

"Still quiet, as expected,"Goyle replied. "Tevos's trial is coming up in a few weeks and the Republics have yet to elect a successor. Right now they basically lack a voice in this, although we both know how they feel about it."

"It's almost been a month since her arrest. You'd think they'd want to get that done as fast as possible."

"Asari are not exactly known for fast action, Chancellor. Furthermore the last four times they elected a councilor it was Tevos. I can imagine it's kind of hard to find a replacement for someone who's been on the job for 168 years."

"Living long really took a toll on their society," the man on the other line sighed. "So right now it's a deadlock, they can't force us to pull out yet?"

"Not exactly but once the asari send a replacement, we'll have to go. This whole thing has been an embarrassment for the Republics and as far as some are concerned it's our fault."

"Great. So we're the bad guys?"

"In the eyes of most matriarchs? Yes. We went against the establishment. Asari hate that," Goyle replied, it was true. Asari society, while placing large value on individual freedom, had been stagnant in the ways they do things for generations. Generations that translated into thousands of human years. Few things were as unpopular with the most powerful asari than radical change. A military intervention smashing a mercenary company incredibly popular with many ruling asari was something they considered a 'radical change'.

Eclipse had been on the payroll of many asari worlds in the Terminus, providing security and enforcement for the rich colonies, protecting them from raiders and slavers and only expecting a little leeway and credits in return, both of which worlds like Illium had gladly provided.

"And they had nothing to say about the fact that all kinds of criminal syndicates, slavers and Terminus nations are going to rush in to pick up the pieces of the Blood Pack and Eclipse?"

"Only that we should've known that beforehand."

"So your advice is to react before they force our hand?"

"If we want to get anywhere besides this embassy, we'll eventually have to play nice, Chancellor Noé," Goyle argued. "I know that you fear that other powers are just going to fill the void left by Eclipse but it's going to happen either way. It's what the Terminus Systems do, they throw themselves at every opportunity to become more powerful."

"You're more experienced with alien matters than I am, Goyle, so I'll ask you something."

"Anything, Chancellor."

"Who are the most powerful players in the Terminus and who of them will pick up the most pieces?"

Goyle considered it for a moment. With two major powers gone, the Terminus was in upheaval, warlords, gangs and rogue nations all scrambling for power. With Eclipse gone, organized crime had lost one of it's major protectors, therefore causing other mercenary companies to draw in more recruits, with the Blood Pack gone, warlords now had to sent their own rank and file to fight rivals. The situation was chaotic, truthfully she could think of dozens of groups that would profit from this.

But the chancellor asked for who would come out on top eventually and that limited the candidates. Most of the groups struggling would simply weaken each other until the true victor would rise from the ashes of the fire currently burning in that particular part of the galaxy.

There were only a two groups that would truly be able to come out on top.

First there was Omega, ruled by Aria T'Loak, but she had never made a move outside of her asteroid. She was only interested in being the 'queen' of that wretched place, no galactic ambitions that Goyle was aware of. She'd probably stay in her club, get richer thanks to her Element Zero deposits all the while being connected to leading matriarchs across asari space. Rumor had it she even had Tevos on the leash, something Goyle found all the more likely given recent events. Ignoring all of that, Omega wouldn't be the victor in this, it could be, but Aria had nothing to gain from fighting of others, her power was as secure as ever. Aria didn't act unless her power was in danger, a trait common in asari society.

Then of course there was the Batarian Hegemony. The Terminus Systems were a major playing ground for them, many warlords and pirates relying on batarian backing to stay in power and in turn serving as the Hegemony's secret enforcers, keeping non-batarians away from places of interest while staying clear from unregistered batarian colonies. However the Hegemony was a council associate, they were be able to fill the void but they would not dare to openly act against the Council's stance on the matter, the threat of turian intervention in case of conflict ever present. But the Hegemony would still fill the void, for one simple, disgusting reason.

The 'rogue' slavers, secretly supported by the Hegemony, or as some called them 'the scourge of the galaxy'.

Officially, the Batarian Hegemony condemned them for some of their crimes but everyone was aware that the slavers were one of the major pillars of the Hegemony's slave market, bringing in independent colonists, people the Council wouldn't even know were missing. The slavers, deeply loyal to the Hegemony, would fill the void. They could easily replace Eclipse's criminal network, smuggling and enforcing being not exactly mutually exclusive with slavery, instead even improving their working conditions by giving them more sources of income. They could also put any warlord into their place thanks to having access to a sizeable fleet and low-key military equipment.

"The most likely candidate would be slavers. They have the means, batarian backing, the motive, new slaves and other sources of income, and the opportunity now that other warlords are fighting each other, once they are weak, the slavers will move in for the kill and take their price."

"Exposing our colonies to these scum bags. Good to know," Noé concluded. "Just how extensive is the batarian support?"

"The slavers get hand-me-downs from the Hegemony. Ships that don't work quite like they should, mass accelerators that overheat a bit to early, low-tier barriers and similar things. Still makes them a force to be reckoned with now that the professional mercenaries of Eclipse and the hordes of the Blood Pack are gone."

The chancellor remained silent, causing Goyle to wonder what he was thinking about.

"We can only assume the Hegemony will increase funding even more to fill that void, after all that way they are still pulling the strings from the shadows, letting the slavers lose on whoever is bothering them."

"You just gave me an idea Goyle. There's someone I have to call. Keep the salarians of our back for now, you're doing good work over there. We'll talk later, Ambassador."

With that the chancellor vanished leaving her very confused and somewhat unsatisfied. The comm buoy feed shut itself down as it was disconnected from Arcturus, leaving Anita Goyle alone in the conference room of the embassy, only her thoughts keeping her company as the blue light completely faded. She just hoped that the chancellor wouldn't make ending their talks abruptly a habit from now on.

Somehow she didn't like how talking about slavers gave the head of the HSA's government an 'idea'.

* * *

 **2130 CE** **, Dis System,** **THS Umbra**

Rolling his neck, he felt the joints pop back into place. Hospital beds truly were terrible to sleep in but he simply had to be careful. After all, he wasn't exactly sure what he was dealing with. He hated not knowing his enemy, the more a hunter knew about his prey, the more likely he was to succeed in his pursuit.

Desolas let a slightly frustrated growl escape his mouth as he continued his stride through the lower deck of the Umbra.

As far as the medical officer had been able to tell, Desolas Arterius was completely fine, a day of quarantine turning up no change in his body or his mind. Apparently the device hadn't done to Desolas what it had done to Haliat.

At least for now.

He pushed those thoughts aside for now. If one didn't go into battle as a clean slate, instead carrying other burdens with him, he'd lose focus and suffer for it. He couldn't allow that.

He opened the door to the armory, his golden-black armor placed on the table. Having just left the briefing room, he'd just have to get into gear now. His unit was already waiting for him, ready to continue their mission of tracking down the rogue Blackwatch officer.

He locked the last maneuver thrusters in place, making his armor somewhat reminiscent of a Havoc assault suit worn by the Armiger Legion, and folded up the Phaeston before making sure that it was secured on his back, a habit he had developed after losing his original rifle during training and spending the next day doing grueling exercises under the watch of his instructors.

Next he picked up his helmet, the violet visor reflecting his white plated face and giving him a good look at himself, small burns and scars lining his face. He could've gotten them removed, the technology existed, but for Desolas all of them were linked to a story. Every scar was part of who he was and what he had done in the past. One round tearing of parts of his helmet, the pieces of the protective gear injuring his left mandible. A grenade detonating a little to close, burning his neck in the process, a ricocheted round tearing of the end of one of his fringes during a raid on a pirate base.

All attempts to kill him, all failed attempts.

He sighed and lifted the helmet, rotating it so the violett visor faced towards the ground before placing it on his head and making sure the seals were locked. After all, dying due to a lack of oxygen was hardly a fate worthy of a Blackwatch operative. That would simply be embarrassing.

Picking up the curved talon from the table, 32 small scratches in its grip, and placed it in the sheath attached to his armor, taking care to secure the blade just as he had done with his Phaeston and his pistol before walking out of the armory and into the hangar, his personal guard already waiting for him at the same shuttle that had taken them. Their heads turned as Desolas armored boots made a thud with every step he took towards them.

"Ready for this?" he asked, receiving nods as the unit climbed into the passenger compartment of the shuttle. "Good," he brought up his omni-tool. "Let's go over the briefing, we'll sit here for a couple minutes anyway."

The orange light assembled itself into the shape of a Hensa Cruiser, it's blocky form known to everyone in the shuttle due to having trained on similar batarian ships in the past.

Just because the Hegemony was officially an associate of the Citadel Council and technically an ally of the Hierarchy, didn't mean that the Primarchs weren't aware of the fact that the batarians were the most likely enemy turian soldiers would face on the field of battle. Slavers, pirates and despotic Terminus rulers all used gear provided by the Hegemony, therefore training on batarian models made sense.

In Desolas's opinion it was a near miracle the Hierarchy hadn't put the Batarian Hegemony into its place already, slavery being a crime punishable by death in every turian code of law for thousands of years. The fact that they could only be productive if held at gunpoint simply meant that they lacked discipline, something turian society didn't.

"Our technical specialists have breached batarian security and we now have confirmation that corpses were transported to our target, the Kha'Dahan. The cruiser is currently on its night rotation, we'll have roughly three hours until its corridors start buzzing with activity," Desolas reasoned, receiving nods from his team.

"We'll close the majority of the distance between us and the cruiser via shuttle and drift the last ten minutes with the help of our maneuver gear, same process for the exfiltration," Desolas spoke as the omni-tool displayed four points moving towards the cruiser.

"We'll enter through one of the maintenance entrances, overwriting its lock quietly before making our way to the medbay," Desolas said as the inner working of the cruiser appeared, small tunnels in its hull used to maintain the complex inner workings of the ship. "The Kha'Dahan has sent its ground troops to the surface, meaning we'll move through the deserted lower caste quarters, the rank and file grunts are on Jartar, we shouldn't run into anyone down there."

The omni-tool began to show four dots moving through the corridors, one room up ahead marked as 'medical bay'. Then a close up of the medical section revealed a part named 'storage unit', the place in which their target was most likely located. "Once we're inside, we'll check the corpses and any terminals we can find, then we jump ship the same way we came."

"What about the crew?" one of his comrades asked.

"Crew expendable, Sergeant Veltax," Desolas simply replied. "Our priority is the intel, therefore weapons free, although I'd prefer for us to simply vanish as undetected as we'll arrive."

"Any alternative ways of evacuation, Sir?" Lieutenant Callius asked, her voice altered by the helmet covering her face.

"Rapid exfiltration via the laws of physics."

"Blowing a hole into the hull and hoping we get sucked out faster than they can shoot us?" Galviat questioned.

"I found my phrasing to be more optimistic, but yes Sergeant, 'Blowing a hole into the hull and hoping we get sucked out faster than they can shoot us' is also a way to put it."

"Already have the charges," Veltax injected as he held up one of the explosives, the grey metal cylinder clashing with his black-golden suit of armor as he clipped it back into place on his belt. "It's gonna be great."

"Let's just avoid that, alright?" Galviat countered.

"Just because your stomach can't handle it you wu-" Veltax was about to continue but Desolas decided to continue his briefing. Sure, his personal guard were the best but they were as prone to teasing each other as any unit.

"However," Desolas interrupted the banter. "If we encounter crew members, I'd prefer simply avoiding them if possible. A couple batarians dying in a cave in? That's one thing. Batarian servicemen murdered on their own ship? That's a different story, a story I'd like to avoid. Are we clear on that?"

Three nods was all he received.

"Alright. According to my timer, we'll reach the drop off point in two minutes. Check the locks on your gear, the seals on your armor and run a final diagnostic scan. I don't want vacuum casualties," he reminded them out of habit, although he was certain his personal guard would not make such a mistake.

Following his own advice, he checked his equipment one last time and was finished just as the timer ran out and the lights on the inside of the shuttle turned red, informing the four Blackwatch operatives that the atmosphere was starting to vent.

The hissing of the air escaping into space was still an uncomfortable noise for Desolas, having been subjected to uncontrolled decompression during his early years of service. Being sucked out of a damaged shuttle and floating in space, waiting three hours for rescue, was hardly pleasant.

As the light turned green, the soldier closest to the door, Galviat, rose from his seat as the locks of the door came loose. He pushed it aside, revealing the blackness of space to his team and Desolas stepped forward, the display inside his helmet outlining the path to the cruiser.

"With me," he said as he disabled the magnetic fields of his boots holding him in place. He pushed his feet of the ground with little force and began to float out of the shuttle, his maneuver thrusters beginning to position him via small oxygen bursts.

Then he began to accelerate, little force needed to get him to the speed he required to swiftly cross the distance between the drop of point and the Kha'Dahan, the brown, bulky, batarian cruiser growing ever closer right until he began to decelerate, not wanting to die upon impact with the metal hull.

Coming to a stop just as he could grab onto the cruiser, magnetic fields in his palms activating and allowing him to climb across the hull, the service hatch outlined with red colour as he turned his head to see his team arrive.

Desolas skillfully used his hands and feet to climb across the brown armor of the warship, the entry point now in reach.

"Overwrite it, Lieutenant," he ordered and Nilia Callius floated past him, only activating her magnetic palms when she was in reach of the hatch. She grabbed on to a bar, most likely used to open it once the locks were disabled and brought up her omni-tool. The orange hologram began to display various access codes as the Lieutenant overwrote safety protocol after safety protocol to ensure that the hatch would first decompress, then unlock, allowing the Blackwatch team to enter, and then once more regain atmosphere without the bridge crew noticing any of it. As air began to stream from the entrance, her task seemed well in progress. The Lieutenant let go of the bar, deactivated her omni-tool and took her Phaeston of her back, pointing the barrel at the hatch.

"Try it now," she said as Desolas grabbed onto the bar with one hand, while a pistol held by his other hand hovered over the entry as well, his own Phaeston still folded on his back. Lifting the hatch, Desolas kept his pistol trained on it as Galviat and Veltax entered through it, the tunnel luckily big enough for a batarian to walk through and work in, meaning that the turians could walk through it as well. Entering last and making sure to close the hatch behind him, Desolas's night vision gear once more turned on, the tunnel now appearing through a green filter. Cables, pipes and access points were lining the walls of the part they had entered, grey airlocks separating the area from the rest of the maintenance tunnel.

"Atmosphere?" he asked as the Lieutenant turned to him.

"Any minute now, batarian technology is not that fast."

Just as the words left her mouth, he heard a hiss that let everyone present know that the compartment was once more filled with air, followed by the noise of the tunnel's blast doors moving up

"Let's get moving," Desolas said as his HUD began to draw a path in his field of vision. "50 steps forward there's another hatch, should lead us right to the barracks." he informed his unit as he attached the service pistol back to his hip, instead drawing the folded Phaeston, which had not been lost to space this time, from his back. The rifle unfolded in his hand, small lights on the guns side informing him that it was now ready to be fired at any one Desolas wanted dead.

He began to walk forward, an almost inaudible metal thud echoing through the tunnels with each step he took. The HUD's outlining began to focus on another hatch, a red filter laying itself on top of the entrance to the barracks, Desolas stepping past it to allow the lieutenant to take care of this one as well.

"This is the spot," he said. "Barracks just below us."

The lieutenant began her work as Desolas turned his head back into the direction they were walking in, after all a lone technician could still stumble upon them. Being detected after having retrieved the intel was one thing, being detected before was another.

The hatch came loose and he heard the sound of it being lifted as he kept his eyes on the corridor ahead of them. Then he felt someone tap against his helmet, signifying that only the turian that had just touched him and Desolas himself had to get through the entry. Counting down in his head, he waited five seconds before turning around and climbing down the ladder.

Just as planned they were inside the barracks of the lower caste foot soldiers. Bunk beds, all of them basically metal grids covered by one blanket and a lone, hard looking pillow lined the room in five rows, old footlockers placed next to all of them. The temperature of the room appeared on his HUD as he took in the noticeable sound of the drive core. It was below the zone comfortable for batarians thanks to the fact that the barracks were located next to the cooling unit of the drive core.

Comfort was not something given to the lower castes of batarian society.

Scanning the room for any sign of batarians, Desolas turned his head, a green filter laid over his vision as his HUD helped him to look for the outline of any stragglers that hadn't deployed to the surface, however he found nothing but the metal boxes in which the lower caste soldiers stored their gear. Not even spare parts or personal affects had been left behind by the soldiers occupying these quarters.

He'd be impressed with their tidiness if it wasn't for the fact that it was probably literally beaten into them by their superiors.

As his personal guard began to move forward, the exit of the barracks already in sight, they began to check the beds for batarians that might have remained hidden due to their position relative to that of Desolas's unit. Taking each step carefully, he checked bed after bed, the three members of his team each moving through another corridor between two rows of beds.

The unit managed to get through the barracks undetected, the room as abandoned as Desolas had predicted.

Moving up to the unlocked door, a green circle showing as much, Desolas ordered Veltax to take a peak, the door opening with an unavoidable hiss as the Blackwatch operative stepped into the dimly lit corridor, night rotation causing the lamps on the ceiling to shine less bright than usual.

Checking both left and right, Veltax gave the all clear and Desolas's guard stepped outside of the room, their general once more taking the lead as his HUD began to draw a path to the medical section and it's adjacent storage section. Hurrying down the corridors of the cruiser, the door of the medical bay was already in sight when Desolas heard voices not belonging to his unit. By the sound of it there were two and soon they'd come around the corner up ahead.

"To the left," he declared as his unit moved out of sight, taking a turn at the intersection of corridors, just fourty steps shy of the medbay.

Desolas pressed himself against the wall, his hand traveling for the curved military talon as he saw Lieutenant Callius's biotic energy manifesting around her, ready to take down whoever was walking up on them. The other two turians, their Phaeston's still in hand, were preparing themselves to shoot anyone they came across.

Desolas took a deep breath and began to focus, senses honed by years of experience kicking in.

"Did you hear? There was a cave-in at the old research outpost." one said, the typical deep, guttural voice of a batarian echoing through the empty, dimly lit halls of the Kha'Dahan.

"Did anyone get injured?"

"A few lowborns from the External Forces were crushed, too much trouble retrieving the corpses to check exactly how many. Probably five or six by the headcount of our ground commander. No big loss really."

"Luckily we evacuated the scientists," another, equally deep voice replied as the steps drew closer, causing Desolas to lift his blade on the approximate height of a batarian neck. He needed to be ready. "One of them is related to Ambassador Jath'Amon. Imagine having to break the news to him that his nephew died in a cave in."

"He'd put you in shackles and work you to death in the mines of Aratoht," the first batarian replied as he walked into view, his eyes not yet noticing Desolas, a military talon only one jab away from ripping his throat open. He was exactly as tall as the turian had expected him to be, the blade perfectly aligned with his greenish neck, the insignias on the reddish shoulder pats of his uniform making him out as an officer.

The other batarian, his head tilted to left, generally a sign of respect for a superior officer or member of a higher caste spoke up again. "We don't need to concern ourselves with that though. It didn't happen."

"Truthful words," the first spoke as the couple passed by Desolas, slowly moving towards a corner, their speech becoming inaudible.

He waited for a few more seconds before putting his blade back into its holding and stepped out of the corridor.

"Close call," he whispered over the squad intercom. "Let's get into that medical section."

Closing the distance as silently yet as swiftly as possible proved to be an easy task for the Blackwatch veterans, their steps fast yet quiet. They moved up to the door and Lieutenant Callius once more overwrote a batarian security protocol, stepping into the darkness of the medbay.

Desolas helmet once more laid a green filter over his surroundings, empty beds, metal tables and medical gear filling the room. He could see the door, behind which the corpses they were looking for were being stored.

"Veltax, cover the door. Lieutenant Callius, collect everything you can find on the incident. Galviat you're with me. Five minutes."

"Yes, Sir," it rang in his ears as the personal guard executed their orders, Lieutenant Callius walking over towards the first terminal at the same time as Galviat and Desolas himself opened the more primitive door towards the storage unit.

Moving the metal barrier out of the way, Desolas immediately spotted the cut up pirate, a salarian, on the table situated in the center of the room.

"Apparently they don't just store them here," Galviat said as he moved over towards the man-sized cabinets built into the wall, red lights marking which one were occupied. The turian began to open them one by one, revealing asari, batarians, salarians, turians and even one krogan, all wearing different clothing but all sharing similar, mass accelerator caused wounds.

They began their search, minutes going by and Desolas growing more frustrated with each report only going over the nature of the wounds. He was about to call it off, believing the batarians to be completely clueless, when the voice of Nilia Callius delivered him good news.

"I've got it," the Lieutenant said as Desolas began to read over the reports given to the cruiser's captain by the chief medical officer of the Khar'Dahan.

Apparently the medical unit had used trace elements found on the bodies of the pirates to locate potential bases, determining the elements with the use of magnetic resonance spectroscopy, using this knowledge to narrow their search perimeters and combining these perimeters with known pirate activity and likelihood of staying hidden in the determined locations. The batarians were very serious about tracking the pirates down so much was certain. Their motivation most likely to keep whatever they found on Jartar a secret from the rest of the galaxy.

"Looks like they got a fix on the pirates main hub from the last autopsy. They are completely certain that they found the place. It checks off every single point on their list."

"Where is it?"

"Nonuel, a volcanic world in the Plutus System's asteroid belt. Mostly unmapped. It's rich in Samarium, traces of which were found on the corpses," Callius explained, ticking of the criteria set by the batarians. "Apparently they are making their move soon, reconnaissance units are already in place, they've found an underground complex built into a dormant volcano. The captain of this vessel just executed someone for leaking this information to the Shadow Broker though." the Lieutenant kept reading. "Also says something about a vessel carrying another artifact to the surface. A turian was spotted arriving after it."

"Haliat," Desolas concluded.

"Could be him, could also be any other turian. I've got two copies of the report and I suggest we get out of here," the Lieutenant reasoned as she shut down the batarian terminal, resting her hands on the metal table as she turned around and faced Desolas.

"No it's him, we never found the artifact. It has to be Haliat," Desolas replied "We got what we came for. Let's move. Good work Lieutenant," Desolas ordered as Galviat finished cleaning up their traces in the storage unit.

The four turians moved out of the medical section of the Kha'Dahan, the cruiser still in it's night cycle, and back into the corridors.

"Barracks up ahead, the hatch should still be free," the turian on point, Veltax, informed his unit. However his words were immediately followed by a raised up arm, his unit already expecting the next words.

"Batarians up ahead."

"Go left," Desolas said, the unlocked door to what his HUD called a 'storage compartment', in his line of sight.

The four turians swiftly dodged the incoming batarians, jumping into the small room. It was dark, tight and filled to the brink with boxes.

It was still better than a turian special operations unit being spotted on a batarian military vessel.

Desolas once more switched to his service pistol, the trusty assault rifle too big to lift inside their current hiding spot. He kept the pistol on the door, silently listening as the steps of at least five batarians became louder every second. At their loudest, the steps stopped. Had they been spotted?

When the batarians began to chat, that lingering feeling of being exposed died down. Minutes passed, the batarians apparently in the mood for talking, yet the Blackwatch operatives waited. Patience was something drilled into your head during the grueling training it took to earn the golden Mexta. The patient hunter would be the one to succeed. When a few minutes turned into half an hour, Desolas grew frustrated. Night rotation would end in less than fourty minutes, they had to get moving.

"Spirits do these guys work at all?" Galviat asked over the squad intercom.

"At least you weren't point man. You are slowly but surely making certain I never father offsprings, Galviat." Veltax joked, his position as point man meaning he had been the first inside the tiny room and the unlucky one to have the least amount of space.

"Probably for the better of the galaxy."

"Cut it out," Nilia Callius commented, tightly squeezed between Galviat and Desolas himself.

"We have to get out of here." Desolas simply replied. "Lieutenant, can you squeeze past me and prepare to place a stasis on them?"

"What exactly is the plan?"

"Make it look like a freak hull breach. Put them in stasis, expose them to the vacuum when we make our escape."

"Brutal, but smart," Veltax commented. "Can we get it done quickly?"

Desolas pressed himself against the boxes as hard as he could, creating as much space as possible for the smaller Lieutenant to move through. Normally he wasn't one to complain about close relationships to his comrades but when the Lieutenant's elbow started to bend his arm in a funny way however, he really wished for a little more personal space between his unit. The pressure on his joints decreased as Callius actually managed to get past the general, who now placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping his pistol aimed at the door.

"Execute," he said as the door opened via the press of a button, revealing a surprised group of batarian engineers to the four Blackwatch members.

The Lieutenant had always been an impressive biotic, any cabal sent to Blackwatch was by turian standards incredibly powerful.

However putting a stasis on five batarians truly was impressive.

With their mass decreased, Desolas and Galviat both grabbed two of the crew members and began to drag them to a point adjacent to the outer hull of the cruiser, pipes lining the brown walls on which Veltax began to work.

The struggling grunts of the Lieutenant equaled the struggle evident on the batarian's faces as they tried to fight what was about to happen.

"Nothing personal," Veltax argued as he lifted the detonator, fear growing evident on the batarian faces.

"Umbra, we'll need pick up," Desolas said as Galviat connected himself, Veltax, the Lieutenant and Desolas with a sturdy wire, ensuring they wouldn't drift apart.

"Stand clear," Veltax called, more a habit than a warning, and right afterwards the breaching charge tore both the turians and the batarians, only one of the groups having access to an oxygen supply, into the darkness of space.

"Umbra, get a shuttle to the coordinates of my suit's emergency transmitter," Desolas said as he activated the silent beacon. "Mission accomplished."

They began to distance themselves from the slowly freezing batarian corpses with the help of maneuvering trusters, now drifting until a shuttle could pick them up. The vastness of space, their small size and the distraction caused by the sudden hull breach ensuring that they wouldn't be detected.

"I shouldn't have eaten so much for breakfast," Galviat began. "Biggest mistake of the day."

"Spirits, Galviat, if you throw up in your suit again, I'll have you do zero-g training until you have nothing left to hurl," the Lieutenant injected.

"Please don't Ma'am, I can't stand the smell of his 'mistakes'," Veltax begged.

Desolas chose to simply listen to the banter, it was a welcome past time. Personally, he had never liked floating around either.

* * *

 **12\. June 2388 AD, Arcturus Station**

"That could work," Harper replied, his bluish form leaning back in the chair, sitting in Cronos Station with a glass of bourbon in his hand. "Of course, it's incredibly questionable whether or not we should do it, but it could work."

"I didn't think you of all people would voice ethical concerns." Chancellor Noé chuckled. He hadn't expected this reaction.

"This isn't about ethical concerns, it's about accountability and control. Running a black ops division is one thing, we might be deniable and we might do a lot of wetwork but we are still part of a chain of command," the director of Cerberus countered. "They won't be. They have to be independent for what you propose. This isn't the same as Cerberus, Chancellor. They would in no way be obliged to follow their purpose."

"I know, Harper but I believe this to be the best course of action. I came to you with this because I have faith that you'll work around these issues. It's why I gave you this job in the first place, you get things done," Noé replied, trying to explain his reasoning. "You just need to put the right people on it."

"If we are doing this, it'll take a lot more planning. Years of drawing up contracts, erasing trails, finding the 'right kind' of people, establishing the necessary networks," he said as he made air quotes with his hands, "and so on. But as I was saying the principle behind the idea is logical. Fighting fire with fire."

"There's a 'but' in there, what is it Harper."

"This could go wrong, very wrong. You are talking about creating a mercenary outfit targeting batarian slaving guilds to keep them away from our colonies, who's to say they won't go rogue themselves?"

"That's where the 'right people' come in, Harper. I don't want you to recruit criminals, I want you to recruit people who focus their anger on criminals. Look for ex-law enforcement, veterans, people who lost someone to crime and possess the training such an outfit would require. Give them an opportunity for vengeance." Chancellor Noé countered, repeating Harper's air quoting to reinforce his point. "Find me people who have a working morale compass but are still willing to get their hands dirty for the good fight."

"To summarize, you want me to establish a mercenary outfit dedicated to fighting slavers and pirates, doing all of that without becoming criminals themselves, and at the same time they are supposed to fill the gap that was left by not one, but two major criminal syndicates? People who are driven by the need for justice, justice they themselves didn't get and therefore feel the need to ensure others get it?"

"Yes."

"So you want me to create an organization made up of vigilantes?"

"Yes."

Harper sighed as Noé lit a cigarette. "I'll get to it, however in the mean time I propose to increase patrols in the area and reinforce the Colonial Watches. We'll have to reassess the level of threat for each colony now." the director replied as he took a sip of his alcohol, looking at the glass in his hand.

"I already gave the orders to do that, but there is one more thing," the Chancellor said as Harper lowered the glass and threw him a suspiscious look. "I want you to bring in turians."

"Excuse me?" Harper asked surprise while Noé drew smoke from his cigarette.

"I want you to make it a turian-human thing. Kind of an anti-thesis to Eclipse," Francis Noé explained as he exhaled some smoke. "Turian culture teaches them all about civil virtues, give them the opportunity to fight against criminals, slavers and pirates? Most will take it. Find the people that want to make a difference but didn't quite get the opportunity to do so. There are tons of turian C-SEC rejects and discharged soldiers. We are going to need all kinds of personal for this. Turian society creates a lot of people qualified for these tasks. No need to restrict this to humans."

"Turians would also be seen as more approachable compared to the new kid on the block," the director added, his hand rotating his glass, a habit Noé had observed in the past. Even a specialist had some habits, for Harper it was swirling his beverage when he was thinking.

"Now we are on the same page, can I count on you to do this Harper?"

"Of course, Sir. I'll put my people on it," Harper replied "They are going to need a name though."

"I already have something in mind," Noé chuckled. "I'd like to stick with the whole anti-thesis thing."

"Something tells me I won't like this name." Harper said as he raised an eyebrow.

"Blue Suns."

A smile crossed Harper's face for a second before the man pinched his nose. "Complementary colours and a sun pun? Really?"

"Hey, I spent the better part of an hour coming up with that name. You better not ridicule it, Director."

"The thought never crossed my mind, Chancellor," Harper said, a faint chuckle in his tone. "I'll start working on it right away. One more thing though," the man added after leaning forward to cut the feed, "You really want them to have a white sigil? Its kind of boring, don't you think so?"

"It just fits the whole anti-thesis thing that's now stuck in my head," the chancellor shrugged. "Can't fault a man for being a bit poetic, can you?"

"I'll get to it," Harper replied with another chuckle.

"We'll speak soon, Harper."

"We will, have a good day, Chancellor Noé."

With that the Cerberus director cut the feed and Noé extinguished the cigarette he had lit minutes before. Now he just had to endure a staff meeting and the day would be done.

* * *

 **13\. June 2388 AD** **, Hades Gamma Cluster** **, HSASV Lake Trasimene**

"Specialist, Task Force Lightbringer had a breakthrough," the captain of the scout frigate, specifically designed for ambushes, stealth deployments and long range reconnaissance informed Tao.

Specialist Tao Rei opened his eyes at the news. "Where are we going?" he questioned as he turned around to meet the man in the typical blue naval uniform, his brown face covered by a black mustache, dark, almost empty looking eyes betraying his age.

"Nonuel, a world in the Plutus System."

"I'll need your briefing room, Sir," Tao said, his respectful tone evident.

"It's already prepared Specialist," the captain replied. "This isn't my first dance with Section 13."

"Thank you, Captain West," the asian man replied, rising from his kneeling position, the dark room only illuminated by a few candles. Normally he hated being interrupted during his meditations, but this was different. This was important. He took a step towards the captain, offering a sharp salute he didn't need to give, before he began to walk towards the Lake Trasimene's briefing room. He had a superior to report to after all. He used the short time it took him to get to the room to read up every little detail he could get about the world and the mission he was about to head on. Nonuel, a volcanic dwarf planet, was the biggest object in the asteroid belt of the Plutus System. Volcanic activity of the world was off the charts, causing the atmosphere to be a deadly mix of carbon and sulphur dioxides ejected from countless of vents. It was a source of eezo, poorly mapped, and incredibly hazardous.

Sounded like a fun trip.

The base was built into a series of cooled out volcanic caves, meaning he wouldn't have to spent all his time on the ash and cinder covered surface of this hell hole.

Close quarter fighting however meant that the reason he had earned the nickname Ryōshi wouldn't be much use. No point in bringing his trusty DMR-7 into that mess. He'd have to rely on his skill with a pistol and a blade. Possibly a M-83 if things go south. Definitely a lot of demo charges to blow up the Object Omnicron and to drown the base in lava if the need arose though. He'd also take a lot of Mark 14 grenades, the shuriken-like disks were a perfect way to make up for his lack of numbers should he be detected.

However there was another thing he had to worry about besides the pirates and the Object Omnicron. If the batarians had gathered this intel, they were going to raid that base. A couple of pirates? He'd slip in and blow them to kingdom come.

A batarian assault pressing him into a three way fight between himself, angry pirates and professional batarian soldiers? That made things complicated. Of course he saw the potential of the situation, sneak in while the batarians and pirates killed each other and burry both of those issues under rubble and lava. If he timed it perfectly, he'd be able to infiltrate before the assault began, reach the artifact just as the pirate rallied to fight the batarians and slip out when both sides had weakened each other, allowing him an easy escape before he destroyed the base and the artifact.

True, the last one had been sturdy, but the environment of Nonuel, the amount of explosives he'd place on the thing and the location of the base, a cave just asking to be flooded with lava, would do the trick.

"I assume my orders haven't changed?" he began to speak after entering the room and activating the comm link. Instead of a person, only an audio feed constructed itself. He knew how the person he was talking to looked like, after all he had met the director hundreds of times, however he understood why the head of humanity's elite division preferred to keep visual apperances to a minimum. After all, a good spy was not someone who made himself a public figure.

"No, your orders are still the one's the Illusive Man gave you," the voice replied. "Search and destroy."

"Understood Director." Rei replied.

"Ryōshi, you know how dangerous these things are," the voice added, concern evident. "Don't take any chances with an Omnicron."

"I didn't plan on it, Director."

"I shall leave you to your mission preparations then, you are dismissed, Specialist."

As quickly as the short exchange had begun, it ended. The director was never a fan of long talks anyway.

"Captain, when will we arrive in the Plutus System?"

"Roughly twenty hours."

"Inform me when we reach the system. I'll be in my room."

"If you burn it down with your candles, you're paying for it. You don't leave those things unattended," the captain deadpanned.

"I'd hate to ruin the beautiful furniture, Sir. I'll do my best not to cause a fire hazard. No hard promises though." Rei chuckled as he entered his room, the candles now extinguished. He lit them again, the smell helping him relax as he knelt down again and began to clear his mind.

Tao Rei had a very unique way to prepare himself for a mission. Some worked out, others meticulously checked their gear, created contingency plans, practiced movements like reloading, switching weapons or went over hand to hand drills with the unfortunate marines onboard whatever vessel they were occupying. He even knew one agent who'd simply read super hero comics to relax.

Lal Qila truly was an odd one though. That particular habit was one Tao had never seen anywhere else.

He himself meditated, slept for precisely eight hours and awoke as a man without burdens or attachments, after all a warrior that carried his personal troubles into battle would be distracted, less deadly. Tao always took care to sort out his personal life before he deployed. Preparing a letter for his sister in case something happened, keeping his will up to date.

Things like that helped him.

A warrior had to live like he was already dead after all. That much had been passed down to him by his late father.

* * *

 _Codex: Human Systems Alliance Frigates_

 _Frigates, serving the HSA Navy as escorts, scouts and flanking vessels, make up the majority of vessels flying under the banner of the Human Systems Alliance. Usually placed in 'wolf packs' of four vessels, the modern day vessels of the Iwo Jima- Class, first deployed during 2388, are armed with long range torpedoes, point defense guns and several smaller mass accelerator guns. In battle they provide screening for carriers and dreadnoughts while destroying targets with the help of their Disruptor torpedoes. Older models were slowly replaced by the newer Iwo Jima class following their effectiveness during the Human Mercenary Intervention._

 _Two of the first five Iwo Jima-class frigates were modified to serve as long-range reconnaissance vessels, the Lake Trasimene and her sister ship rumored to have served as the human base on which the joint turian-human warships 'Normandy' and Ain Jalut were built. Their design, classified to the public, is said to include a drive capable of storing heat, a feature said to be the one major human contribution to the otherwise rather turian designing of the Normandy Class._

 _Human frigates differ from those of Council races in the way that they were designed with carrier support in mind, the concept of carriers not being present in the galaxy until contact with the HSA was established. Aiding in the attack of the strike crafts by exploiting the vessels damaged by the torpedo runs of fighter wings, HSA frigates are given a role not found in the other fleets. Human commanders consider frigates to be a swift, deadly blade while other races see them as auxiliaries and screening vessels to the much more important dreadnoughts._

* * *

 **A/N: So, chapter 14. The plot lines are drawn the pieces are in place, things will happen next chapter.**

 **304 follows, we cracked my wish of 300, but only 96 reviews. Really wanted 100. Maybe next time.**

 **Keep the reviews coming, I love talking to you people about what you think! I reall do**

 **As of right now we are at 304 follows, 96 reviews and 244 favorites. Niiiiceee.**

 **Now, the final weeks of school are coming up for me and I'll have to prepare for a final, oral exam. Therefore I'll have to study, I want a good grade and all that jazz, so I might slow down the updates till the end of march... which is when Andromeda comes out. I don't know when I'll update after that but since I'll have loads of free time, I'm sure I'll be able to squeeze in a lot of stuff between then and July, which as you may recall is when I'm starting basic training at which point I won't be able to update once a week.**

 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter, having a blast with Semper Vigilo.**

 **Let me know what you think about this one though, I feel like I made a huge change in the origin of the Blue Suns here but I really liked the idea. Hope it works for you even though it was a somewhat silly exchange given the rest of the chapter.**

 **oh and ... REVIEW!**

 **See you around next time.**


	15. Whatever Happened To Captain Haliat

**Chapter 15. Whatever Happened To Captain Haliat**

* * *

 **14\. June 2388 AD** **, Plutus System** **, HSASV Lake Trasimene**

He continued filling his backpack with demolition charges under the somewhat confused look of the petty officer in charge of the Lake Trasimene's armory. He grabbed another one as the woman raised an eyebrow.

"I'd hate to be whoever you're going after." she said, looking at the list he had given her to retrieve the next item he required. "I mean, you obviously know what you are doing, but that's a lot of explosives."

He closed the armored backpack, by his count filled with twenty charges each one capable of a surprisingly big explosion and pulled one strap over his shoulder as he turned to face her, his helmet not yet obscuring his features.

"Need to blow up something big." he replied as he reached for the M-83 in the petty officer's hands. He fixed the submachine gun in place on a carbine attached to his backpack before beginning to grab magazine after magazine. "Maybe I'll have to shoot a lot of things as well." he explained as he closed the magazine pouch.

"You wrote down ammunition for a SIS-8, yet not the actual gun." the woman pointed out, more likely trying to keep the conversation going than actually believing him to have forgotten something.

He decided to go with it, after all, people rarely talked to him, the reputation of his profession acting as a deterrent to just about anyone. After all, Section 13 had been classified to the general public right until they had been given autonomy during the Fringe Wars. He had preferred it back then, people would only look at him as an HSAIS agent, not a living weapon.

"Brought my own." Rei replied as he pulled the customized weapon from it's holster strapped to his right leg, grabbing a pistol magazine from the desk and putting it into the black gun, his grey, armored gloves pulling back the slight after making sure the safety of the gun was still in place. "Don't leave home without it." he added, trying to sound as friendly as a man getting ready to commit violence could.

"So that's everything on your list. Grenades, ammunition, demolition charges, one M-83." the petty officer read of the tablet. "I think you're good to go. Good luck out there."

"Thanks. I'll try not to scratch the paint off of your M-83." He picked up his helmet, the black tainted visor reflecting the light of the ceiling lamps into his eyes, causing him to squint a bit before turning it around and looking at its inside, weighing the grey piece of equipment in his hands, a scratch at it's left side marking his recent brush with death. Then he turned the helmet left, revealing a stylized, black crosshair engraved into the helmet, the symbol serving as a reminder to his humble beginnings as a marine sniper. Everyone had to start somewhere and it was always good to remain connected to one's roots.

He threw one last look at the petty officer, who at this point was already busy taking care of other things, and pulled the helmet over his face, replacing Specialist Tao Rei with 'Ryōshi', his face disappearing behind the visor that had stared into deaths face countless of times.

Tao walked out of the armory, his destination being the hangar bay of the Lake Trasimene. A shuttle would take him to surface of Nonuel, using the volcanic ash clouds to cover its signature from any potential pirate sensors. Once on the ground, he'd enter the pirates base through an adjacent tunnel, ground penetrating scans of the scout frigate revealing a poorly secured, though somewhat long corridor leading inside the dormant volcano.

He jumped into the already floating Kodiak, closing the door behind him.

* * *

 **2130 CE** **, Plutus System** **, THS Umbra**

"At least we won't be spaced this time." Galviat said as he gave Desolas a hand while entering the shuttle. "Mark my words, I shall have my vengeance against Tanilus Veltax."

"Galviat, I think you might be the only turian I know who'd prefer fighting in a volcanic inferno to peacefully drifting in space."

"This again?" Lieutenant Callius questioned. "You've been over this four times in the last two hours. Stop bickering and run a last minute check." she ordered.

Desolas sat down in the shuttle, locking the door in place to ensure that their atmosphere wouldn't vent and ran the last diagnostic scan the Lieutenant had just suggested. Everything was perfectly calibrated, excellent.

"Haliat might be down there." he began, interrupting the argument between Veltax and Galviat. "Remember the plan, use the tunnels to enter the volcano base, track him down, find out everything he knows about these artifacts, kill him, paint the target for the Umbra and get out of there before the batarians arrive."

Galviat sighted, "Knowing our luck, the batarians will arrive the moment we touch down."

"The Umbra is monitoring the area, if any batarian ships drop out of FTL, we'll know." Desolas replied, "We don't know what the pirates have been doing with the artifact, however we can assume that they'll share the cybernetic implants we found in the corpses of Tunae Prime."

The shuttle shook as it began to descend into the ashen clouds of Nonuel, the pilot most likely trying his best not to lose control of the craft in this hostile environment. Even with his costum suit of armor, Desolas doubted he could last longer than a day on the surface. The shuttle began to slow down as the pilot addressed them.

"Landing zone just up ahead, you'll have to get out quickly. The entire area is unsuited for touch down."

"You heard him." Desolas rose from his seat, grabbing onto a rail at the ceiling of the shuttle's crew compartment. "Let's finish this, once and for all."

He received three energetic 'Yes, Sir.' and opened the door the moment the pilot gave him the go ahead, the temperature indicator in his HUD skyrocketing as the hot air of Nonuel rushed into his face. The view that greeted him was unexpected. Nonuel's purple sky, dotted by large, black ash clouds with rays of Plutus's blue light shining through them as lighting cracked in the distance, would normally have been a sight to behold in its own right but Desolas couldn't enjoy exactly pause to admire the unique beauty of this place. His mind was set on the task ahead.

He jumped out, his armor preventing his feet from catching fire as they touched the ground and he immediately began to walk to the cave entrance they had previously mapped out through the use of the Umbra's advanced sensor array. The tunnel, not unlike the one they used on Jartar, was already visible from their landing side and after a short trip, the unit stood in front of their entrance.. The general began to walk inside the mountain it, his personal guard following swiftly. The light from Plutus began to grow scarce the further they moved inside the tunnel causing his helmet to do what it did in situations such as these. Then, just as his night vision turned itself on Desolas halted his pace, raising a fist to signal his unit to stop.

He lowered the arm to point at something on the ground, something he had only spotted due to an old Blackwatch saying forcing itself into his memory.

The careful hunter watches where he steps.

Looking down at the small crack in the floor, he took a step back and turned towards the Lieutenant, the temperature indicator in his field of vision climbing even further than when he had first opened the door.

"Scan the ground, I've got a bad feeling about this." he said as he took another step back, now focusing on the crack and noticing the waves of hot air clashing with the 'colder' inside of the cave, dancing around each other.

"This volcano is not dormant." the Lieutenant replied, her tone incredibly professional given what her next words would be. "We are standing just above a chamber filled with magma."

"It's gonna erupt soon, isn't it?" Veltax asked.

"Incredibly soon." the Lieutenant replied as she looked at the readings displayed on her omni-tool.

"What are we talking, days?" Desolas asked, still staring at the crack. Somehow he expected the next word.

"Hours." the Lieutenant replied. "By the end of the day, the entire mountain side will be flooded in lava." she sighted, "Even worse, atmospheric interference is picking up. Nothing short of an emergency beacon will reach the Umbra right now."

"It will also alert the pirates." Veltax commented. "Great."

"The batarians called it dormant, didn't they?" Galviat injected. "How could they screw up this badly?"

"The batarians call anti-slavery laws discriminatory." Desolas countered. "We have to keep moving, watch the ground in front of you, one wrong step and you'll crash right through the ceiling of that cave. Even your armor won't save you then. Single file, follow my path."

Carefully moving forward he calculated each step, his unit mirroring his every move just as he had ordered them.

"Lieutenant, the moment we are clear of that chamber, you inform me." Desolas said as he narrowly avoided stepping on an incredibly small rupture in the ground, only his sharpened reflexes preventing him from setting down his foot as he saw the faintest sign of hot air at the last possible moment.

"The chamber will be underneath us right until we reach the end of the tunnel, I'm rather certain this was intentional on their part, Sir."

"You don't have to watch for intruders if they burn up in a sea of lava." Galviat commented. "Surprisingly smart."

"Magma." she corrected him. "It's called magma as long as it's underneath the ground."

"Whatever you say, Ma'am."

Desolas, most likely thanks to walking right in front of him, heard Veltax whispered complaint about how they should just get a room but chose not to comment on it, instead focusing on the path ahead, his temperature indicator slowly climbing down, his armor having to work less hard to keep him alive with every step.

"We're almost through." Lieutenant Callius commented. "Just a few more paces."

Desolas however remained vigilant, almost didn't mean they were in the clear. It meant that if they lost focus now they'd burn up just shy of safety. Continuing his stride, he once more spotted something he didn't expect.

Lying in the shadows, just outside of the tunnels exit was a corpse, damaged, brown armor carelessly strapped over his torso, an old batarian shotgun laying just out of reach. Stepping closer the first thing he realised that in spite of Nonuel's incredibly toxic air and the lack of oxygen generators in the area, the salarian wasn't wearing any sort of helmet. The pirate's face was incredibly pale, almost as if he had been dead for weeks, the only indicator that he hadn't been being the still fresh blood running from a big wound in his neck. The dead salarian caused something to surface inside of Desolas's mind, the pictures of the fallen pirates retrieved on Tunae Prime appearing in his memory as he looked at the corpse.

He took a closer look. The blood was off as well, instead of the acidic green usually seen leaking from injured salarians, this salarian bled blue, almost like a turian but not quite. The naturally big, black-brown salarian eyes were nowhere to be seen either. Instead three smaller blue dots orbited a black center replaced them. Desolas also recognized the fine blue lines, glowing dots clearly visible, running under the pirates skin. He looked just like Haliat had appeared in the last few video logs. Desolas stepped forward, the lieutenant now giving the all clear regarding the sea of magma, and spotted something else.

Running from underneath the armor, he could make out small tubes appearing out of the salarian's torso and once more leading into the pirate's arms. Arms cut up by defensive wounds, large pieces of flesh torn out by a blade, one tube cut in half by a cut of the pirate's killer.

Desolas pointed at the corpse, causing Veltax to raise his Phaeston as the general approached the body to remove the chest piece of the pirate's armor. Kneeling down he undid the locks on the armor and pulled away the plate. The moment he had done it, Desolas stared at a small blue circle, reminding him of a battery.

"This is not as crude as the implants on Tunae Prime." he said as he dropped the brown piece of armor next to the corpse. "This is more advanced."

"They are getting better at adding these thing to their bodies." Lieutenant Callius commented as Veltax kept his rifle aligned with the dead salarian. "What we found on Tunae Prime resembled the work of a 'doctor' on Omega, this already looks like it was done by someone with basic understanding of operating on salarians."

"Now I'd hate to interrupt the two of you, Ma'am." Galviat said. "But shouldn't we ask whatever happened to that guy?"

Just as Desolas rose from his kneeling position next to the corpse he saw the faintest imprint in the ash, a partial boot profile visible only to the keenest of observers becoming visible.

"Whoever did it went the same way we did." he said as he once more lifted his own assault rifle. "Let's find Haliat."

* * *

 **Fifteen Minutes Earlier, Nonuel**

It reminded him of hell if he was honest. The fires raging in the distance, the lighting cracking down from the sky as he jogged towards the entrance of the cave tunnel, all of it added to the picture. Only the bright sky somewhat reduced the impact in Tao's mind.

Turning on the night vision included in his helmet, Tao drew his pistol from its holster on his leg and began to advance into the darkness. He walked a couple of meters and came to a halt as he felt the vibration in his feet and saw small pieces of the ceiling fall down on the ground as the whole area began to shake.

"So much for dormant." he mused. The sensor technicians of the Lake of Trasimene hadn't even bothered to try a thermal scan, the hot atmosphere, the even hotter smoke clouding it and the general volcanic activity making it a pointless endeavour.

Had they tried, they might have spotted the heat build up.

Having grown up on one of the most volcanic active regions back on Earth, he was more than aware of the signs predating a volcanic eruption and right now most of them began to manifest themselves around him.

He continued his march through the cave for a few more meters until his armor's computer began to furiously inform him of a temperature spike, his shields beginning to absorb the heat suddenly appearing from underneath him. He looked down at his feet, black ash already staining the grey metal, and noticed the cracks in the ground.

Tao Rei sighted. Why could things never been easy?

Not only was the volcano he was trying to get into not dormant, no. That wasn't enough. His route into the volcano happened to be situated just above a pool of magma that could flood said route at any given moment. This mission had gotten a lot more complicated in a very short amount of time.

Stepping over the crack, which most certainly hid a large body of magma just waiting to build enough pressure to cause an eruption, he decided to move up his time schedule, he simply couldn't risk giving the pirates, who were bound to be aware of imminent eruption, the chance to move the Object Omnicron again. Waiting for the batarian assault was no longer an option.

He picked up his pace to the absolute limit of remaining silent and crept through the darkness, his HUD helping him make out a source of light ahead. He kept moving, aligning his pistol with his eyes, already expecting the universe to throw a group of pirates right in his path, because right about now the only thing that could make the situation even worse was losing the element of surprise.

He came to a sudden halt when he saw something that should've been impossible. A lone salarian, not wearing any sort of protective head gear, stood with his back turned towards Tao. The specialist ran a quick scan, revealing the air to be just as toxic as on the surface. There was no logical explanation as to why the pirate was alive.

Specialist Rei reached for his knife as he holstered his pistol, his intention to silence the impossible salarian as quickly as possible. He crept up on his target, who was by all means standing as still as humanly, or perhaps rather salarianly possible and grabbed a hold of the pirate's head, covering his mouth as he jabbed the tip of his knife in the salarian's neck, twisting it and ripping it into the direction Tao himself was facing.

Normally, this should've killed anything short of a krogan.

To say Tao was surprised when the salarian turned his head, blood spurting out of the neck wound, and grabbed a hold of the knife, was no understatement. Tao, caught up in his adrenaline fueled movements, still noted that the salarian's eyes looked strangely familiar. Ripping the blade backwards and cutting deep into the salarian's hand had no visible effect either as Tao jumped backwards, just narrowly avoiding the grasp of the pirate. The specialist shot forward and slashed at the salarian's arms, blood once more leaking from the wounds as Tao's blade caught some sort of cable, cutting it in half in the had the effect he desired in the first place as the pirate dropped to his knees.

As Tao stared into the pirate's still glowing eyes, he understood why the pirate had been able to survive in the toxic atmosphere without a helmet. The Object Omnicron they had stolen was already doing the one thing Section 13 knew it could do. Making organics more resilient by adding cybernetic implants into their bodies and judging by the lack of crude scars, it had done so for days. Object Omnicron, as far as Section 13 suspected, was capable of learning and capable of two ways of altering physiology. It could either do it crude and fast or precise and slow. The most likely theory was that the more often it altered someone in a crude way, the faster it got in doing it precise and the less need it had for resorting to the crude way of doing things.

He placed the knife in its holding on his chest as the images of the last time he had seen something like this danced before his eyes, monstrosities of flesh and metal in various states of being processed chasing both Specialist Harper and Specialist Rei through a forest on Shanxi, a well timed explosion destroying the source of their abilites and causing them to become catatonic just long enough for the specialists to clean up. Most had looked like the pieces had simply been forced into them by someone pretending to be a doctor while few had been subjected to a less crude way of insertion.

However even they had looked cruder than this salarian.

The Object Omnicron they had found on Shanxi had been dug up by mistake, only being active for precisely 89 hours before being destroyed by a rapid deployment of Section 13. Less than four days.

This thing had been active for over ten days.

He had to put a stop to this before it reached whatever next phase it was shooting for.

His eyes moved to the entrance the dead salarian, now merely a husk of his former self, had looked at. It let to an extension inside the volcano overlooking a plateau. He could make out a series of tents, a few prefabs and a freighter on it. Light from the Nonuel's star shone through the volcano's open summit and reflected of a piece of metal built into the volcano's inside.

The complex.

Noticing the rising levels of lava at the bottom of volcano and the narrow passage leading towards the plateau, he withdrew a charge designed to burn a hole into any sort of metallic wall from his backpack and secured it in his utility pouch, locking the bag rigged to his tactical kit once more.

"Time to earn your living, Tao." he whispered to himself as he began to climb down the trail, a single rock coming loose as his foot touched it, the small piece dropping into the lava below and burning up in an instant.

At least they weren't shooting at him.

Yet.

Getting back would be the hard part because by then they would most certainly shoot at him.

* * *

 **Present Time**

Desolas stepped past the corpse and into the entrance it had leaned against. The night vision in his helmet shut itself of as he stared at the base situated in the volcano's crater, a plateau coming out of the mountain's rock glowing orange as the lava level grew dangerously close to it. Desolas immediately spotted several corpses lying around tents, prefabs and noted that a freighter was just about to tip into the pool of liquid stone, a loose piece that could break away at any point being the only thing standing in his way.

"See that door?" he asked his lieutenant as he pointed at the metal structure reflecting light into his eyes. A large burn mark clearly visible where someone had broken into the complex by force.

"Yes, Sir."

"Get ready for a little climbing." he said as he stored his Phaeston on his back and looked at the narrow passage leading towards the plateau. He looked at his gloves, the profile imprinted on them meant to assist in climbing clearly visible.

Blackwatch chose the sword of a people native to Palaven's mountains for a reason. Climbing was something they took pride in.

Leading by example, just as expected from any turian officer, Desolas placed a hand on the wall of the volcano before setting a foot on the passage, making sure it was stable enough to carry him.

When he didn't fall down into the sea of lava, he kept going, keeping a pace fast enough to avoid putting too much pressure on a less solid piece of rock but staying slow enough to calculate each of his moves. He turned his head towards his unit, the three personal guards somewhat behind due to Desolas informing them of their climbing trip just seconds before starting himself.

As he began to move his hands once more, a quake rocked the volcano, causing Desolas to lose his footing, resulting in only one of his arms holding him in place as the rocks underneath him crumbled and vanished in the orange pool of lava that was slowly but steadily rising from the bottom of the volcano. Desolas, in a fit of adrenaline and pure instinct, managed to grab a hold of a hole in the wall created by the quake, pulling himself up with the combined strength of both of his arms.

Close call.

He turned his head around to see his unit still in one piece, the ground underneath them somewhat more resilient than the small strip he had been on when the earth began to shake. The general kept moving, the solid ground of the plateau growing ever closer and the twisted nature of the corpses lying on it becoming more evident with each step he took. He could spot batarians, asari, salarians, a turian and even a couple of vorcha. All shared the cybernetics seen on the salarian as far as he could tell though some were less refined than him but his focus was captivated by the pirate sharing his species with Desolas.

His first foot touched the plateau and he swiftly moved towards the dead turian, having to confirm if it was Elanos Haliat or just any other turian.

He kept his Phaeston pointed at the corpse and kicked him, making sure that the pirate was actually dead. When no reaction came from the supposed corpse, he turned him around to stare at a face that shared the fine blue lines and general disturbing features of Captain Haliat but other than that looked nothing like the Blackwatch officer, the coloration of his plates and the shape of his mandibles vastly different from his target. Relieve washed over Desolas as he set his eyes on the door leading into the mountain, the black scorch marks standing in sharp contrast to the silver metal of the complex's entry.

He moved up to the hole that had been cut into the metal using some sort of incendiary charge and leaned into it, his Phaeston pressed tightly into his shoulder, ready to fire at anyone who could spot him and allowing him to take a better look at the situation in front of him. The entry was connected to a ramp which led down to a hallway with grey metal plates lining the inside of the complex.

His first impression was that there had been a fight. Someone had breached the door, caught those inside by surprise, as evident by the two pirates which had fallen with their backs still turned towards the door, three more pirates killed by precise shots through their necks and heads, one batarian stabbed through the lower set of eyes with the bayonett of his own shotgun.

This had been a brutal and effective breach, most likely by a team the size of his own.

He was torn out of his thoughts when Veltax spoke up.

"Sir, I've found shell casings." he said as Desolas turned around to catch the brass object.

"Humans did this?" he asked as he looked at the corpses spread across the plateau before turning back towards the hallway.

"Seems like it."

"We have to reach the artifact before they are exposed to it. They don't know what they are getting into." Desolas realised as he climbed through the scorched opening, just big enough for him to fit. He began to walk down the hallway, something drawing him deeper into the complex with each step.

"What was that, Lieutenant?" he questioned as a cracking echoed through the complex.

"Those are magma chambers giving in to the pressure. Sir, the volcano could errupt any minute. If the pressure continues to build at this rate, this area will be gone in less than twenty minutes." she warned as the unit moved through the metal hallways, the sporadic corpse and shell cassings littering the way.

"Haliat is down there. I need to see this through." Desolas replied. "His knowledge is too valuable. Get them out of here, Lieutenant. I can do this on my own. Go back to the landing zone." he stated as he kept walking through the corridors of the base, a somewhat dismembered pirate causing him to awkwardly step past a disconnected arm trying not to slip on the blue blood-like substance covering the floor. He kept moving, leaving his unit behind him as he walked through a hallway filled with corpses

"Damn these humans sure as hell were angry." Galviat commented from behind, causing Desolas to halt, confused by the presence of the turian who should've turned back.

"Shrapnel dug in the wall." Veltax said while pointing a finger at the damaged metal frame built into the mountain. "Shock and awe tactics, they threw stealth out of the window in favour of speed."

"Probably realised that the volcano is about to drown this place anyway. No point in sneaking if you're on fire." Galviat replied, his tone somewhat tense as a tremor traveled through the ground, causing him to press his hand against the wall to keep himself from falling.

"Didn't I just order the three of you to leave?" Desolas questioned as he turned around. "I said that I need to see this through, none of you need to be here."

"We're your personal guard, Sir." the Lieutenant argued. "Not leaving you behind."

"A hunter doesn't abandon the pack, General." Veltax added.

"Beats floating in space." Galviat chuckled.

"We have to hurry then." Desolas said, a single respectful nod directed at the choice his unit just made before he began to pick up his pace.

Coming to another door, this one stuck in a state of opening and closing due to a corpse blocking it's path, Desolas came to a halt as another quake, this one feeling different and way more intense, caused him to fall to the ground as the lights went out in the corridor. With the walls shaking and the earth moving, Desolas managed to avoid being crushed by a piece of rebar falling from the ceiling by rolling out of its path mere moments before it smashed down where he had just been.

"Lieutenant?" he asked as he picked himself up. "I thought you said twenty minutes."

"That wasn't the mountain." she said as she got up herself.

"What do you mean it wasn't the mountain, Ma'am?" Veltax questioned as he pulled Galviat up from the ground.

"As far as I can tell, that was a mass accelerator round fired from low orbit." the Lieutenant explained.

"The batarians?" Galivat sighted as he checked his rifle for damage. "They have to show up now?"

"They'll turn this place upside down any minute now. Batarian doctrine calls for an orbital strike just before a drop." Desolas figured. "Let's go."

Desolas forced the door open before walking through, a small room overlooking a bigger one through a window revealing itself to the general. Located just outside of the window was something he could best describe as an altar. The lights were dimmed in what looked like it had been the command center of the pirate base and tables had been moved to create a podium in the middle of the room, right below the only working ceiling lamp. Underneath that light Desolas could make out one of the reasons he was standing on Nonuel in the first place.

The artifact, it's purple shape illuminated by the ceiling lamps, captivating the attention of every single pirate. Kneeling around it were rows of pirates in various states of cybernetic enhancement, all of them focused on the sphere located on the platform in the center of the room. Then his eyes spotted a hooded figure walking up to the artifact, raising its arms and causing the cloak to slight down, revealing one metal arm and another, distinctively turian looking one.

"Haliat?" he questioned as he took another step forward, raising his Phaeston's scope to the turians back. He was about to fire when the turian turned around and spotted him in an instant, snarling at the pirates who suddenly turned around and lifted their weapons. Desolas was saved only by his training, his desire to kill the turian and his confusion as to how he had even known of his presence almost overshadowing his instinct to throw himself into cover as the bullets began to shatter the glass he had just stood behind.

The one glimpse he had gotten of the figure had confirmed what he had already suspected. Haliat was here.

He crawled underneath the hail of bullets the pirates were unleashing on his position as his unit moved up to support him. Peaking out of another part of the window, he began to return fire as a biotic barrier started to block out the somewhat inaccurate suppressive fire the pirates were laying on the Blackwatch unit.

Desolas sent a burst of mass accelerator rounds out of his Phaeston, hitting an asari in the shoulder as she made a move for better cover. However instead of immediately dropping down in shock, the pirate kept walking for a few steps as the same blue liquid he had seen several times already leaked from the wound. The pirate slowed down, her self preservation apparently not fully active and turned to face Deoslas, her rifle coming up incredibly fast even though he had just injured her shoulder. For her unusual reaction she received another round through her brain as Desolas seized the opportunity. Apparently whatever they had done had made them more resilient, normally an asari wouldn't just walk of a round tearing through her shoulder, let alone be able to lift a rifle after a Phaeston tore through it.

He heard the thudding of biotic powers as Lieutenant Callius threw one pirate across the room with a practiced set of motion. The unfortunate cybernetic batarian was about to pick himself up but before he could do so, Veltax finished him of as he rose from his own cover, firing a series of rounds into the pirates upper body before sending the killing blow to the head through the barrel of his Phaeston. Then the turian threw a grenade, blowing up a group of pirates and destroying the last working ceiling lamp in the process, causing Desolas's night vision gear to turn on again, the familiar green filter outlining targets for him.

Meanwhile a vorcha was decapitated by Galviat's sniper rifle, the turian's aim as precise as the day Desolas had recruited him for his personal guard. The sniper shifted his attention towards a pirate standing close to the artifact, apparently trying to move it, only for the round to bounce of a biotic barrier projected by another asari pirate.

"Switching to phasic rounds." he informed his unit over squad intercom before peaking up again to point out what Desolas had already seen. "They are moving it!"

Then Desolas saw yet another strange thing, a lone human jumping across a command console while firing a submachine gun at the pirates with one hand, a disk leaving his other hand and causing a detonation near the artifact.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**

His plan had been somewhat accelerated due to his rather loud entrance into the compound but things had been under control, the pirates had been distracted, he had managed to sneak into the command center through an adjacent room. The artifact had been in reach, the pirates too captivated to realise that a specialist was slowly preparing the entire command center to collapse in one fiery explosion. He could've just retreated, blown the place to hell and be done with it. Even his timing had been on point, an orbital strike marking the imminent arrival of the batarians to distract the pirates.

It had been a solid plan.

At least until a turian fireteam had started to shoot up the place, alerting all pirates captivated by the Object Omnicron to their presence and causing them to start moving his target.

Now he found himself leaping over his hiding spot, a Mark-14 digging itself into the lower back of a pirate standing near the artifact, tearing him and the people close to him apart as rounds from the M-83 punched holes into one rather crude looking, asari victim of the Object Omnicron.

Tao slid across the ground, rounds tearing over his head as he kicked the feet of a pirate of the ground, pinning the deformed face to the ground before firing several rounds right up the vorcha's mouth, razor sharp claws trying to open the armor on his arm in the process. The pirate stopped to struggle after the fifth bullet finally managed to kill it, Rei rolling to the side while using the vorcha as a shield and switching the magazine of his M-83 before he once more began his pursuit of the Object Omnicron. He sprayed rounds at the people carrying it, only for them to bounce of the barrier projected by yet another asari who had replaced the last one killed by a turian sniper. The group of pirates, still led by the hooded turian, made an effort for a series of stairs just as Tao dodged a batarian swinging his shotgun at him like a club. The specialist, his shields slowly depleting as other pirates realised he was actually there, fired a ground into the kneecap of the pirate before shooting him in the back of the head. His instincts told him to jump into cover and moments after he did just that, four pirates began to shoot at him, covering the retreat of their comrades and his target.

From his position he could see how the turians began to drop down from the room they had been in, his night vision gear allowing him to see the one heading straight for him as the other three began to pin down the pirates still remaining in the command center, his assault rifle pointing to the ceiling as he delivered an impressive sprint. The turian threw himself into the cover, Tao moving to the side to give him some more space.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he questioned as the turian leaned out and fired of a burst of his rifle.

"You don't understand what you're getting yourself into, human." the turian began. "Evacuate your team, the pirates are in possession of a weapon capable of manipulating people."

"I don't have a team." Tao said. "And I know exactly what that thing is, which is why I am here to blow it up." the specialist raised the detonator.

"The destruction of the artifact is our goal as well. However the turian in charge of these pirates knows things we need to learn." the turian argued. "I propose we join arms."

"As long as the Object Omnicron ends up in pieces, I don't care how it happens." Tao said as he got up from his cover, the last pirate in his sight. A series of rounds tore through the air, blue blood stains appearing behind the salarian as the M-83 finished him off.

He jumped across his cover and set his eyes on the stairway the pirates had used to flee. It was leading upwards, most certainly to some sort of landing platform, and by his count they had at least 30 seconds on them.

He began to increase his speed as the turian he had just met motioned for his unit to follow him, their heavier footsteps echoing through the now silent command center. He reached the stairs and began to climb them, taking multiple ones in rather large leaps, his heart beating faster as he came towards a corner.

Time slowed down as he saw the fist, belonging to a krogan altered by the Object Omnicron, coming towards his face. The blow would be fatal, the alien's strength most certainly increased by cybernetics. His skin, like with anyone that came into prolonged contact with an Object Omnicron, had fine blue lines running underneath it, his eyes replaced by the already familiar pattern. The krogan's fist closed in as Tao jumped backwards, his M-83 beginning to fire rounds that couldn't quiet punch through the pirate's armor at the creature. He felt himself connect with the wall, the fist just short of making contact and rolled sideways, the sound of turian gunfire only flaring up for a short moment before one turian, this one the sniper of the unit, was slapped aside by the creature, smashing into the lone female, at least Rei was pretty sure it was a female turian, of the group before she could power up her biotics, the purple ripples disappearing the moment the bigger turian was thrown into her, the soldier losing focus of her biotics in favour of catching her team mate. However the force of his noticeable heavier body smashing into her caused them to stumble back onto the stairs, not able to break their fall in time.

As the two rolled down the stairs, only three people remained standing. The leader of the turian unit, the one that had approached him, managed to get off a few shots before the angry, more resilient, modified korgan simply grabbed the assault rifle, not even flinching as the rounds tore into his hand and arm in the process, and ripped it from the turian's hands.

Moving to the defense of his leader, who dodged a punch just as Tao began to make his move, the last remaining turian tackled the krogan to the ground, drawing a curved knife from a sheath with the inted to drive it through the krogan's skull. He got surprisingly close, only stopped as the pirate's already injured hand shot up, the blade cutting straight through the skin and muscle but the sheer strenght of the krogan's arm stopping the blade centimeter's in front of his face, the blue, blood-like substance dripping into the pirate's face before he pushed the turian of himself, the blade ripping out of his hand in the process.

Before the krogan could get up and make a move to crush the turian's head, Tao had already made his.

The specialist, using the distraction caused by the turian's act of bravery, jumped on the krogan, a pistol in one hand and his knife in the other. Jabbing his blade into the softer, if one could talk about 'soft' regarding krogan skin, part of the pirate's neck, he pressed his SIS-8 against the pirates forehead, pulling the trigger again and again, each shot causing more blue liquid to cover his hands and forearms. Tao didn't believe in overkill, however he also hated to take a chance in situations such as these, therefore he kept squeezing the trigger until the last bullet left the barrel of his pistol.

When his gun clicked empty, he pulled the blade out and went to reload, halfway expecting the krogan to grab him and throw him like he had done to the two first turians, both of which were walking up the stairs now, one clutching his arm which looked like it had been twisted a bit too far in the wrong direction.

"Lieutenant Callius, Galviat, are you hurt?" the turian leader questioned as he lifted his Phaeston, only to realise that the front of the gun had been damaged beyond repair for now. He secured the gun on his back as the two turians approach him.

"I'm fine. Mostly." a high, flanging voice declared. "Galviat's arm is injured though."

"Veltax?" the leader questioned.

"The blade with my name on it hasn't been forged yet, General." the turian, a blue, krogan fist imprinted on his chest, replied with a cough.

That caught Tao by surprise, a general leading a fire team? Interesting. There was no time to think about the role of a turian general within a special operations unit right now though.

"They are getting away." he stated as he once more began to climb the stairs, reloading his submachine gun as he picked up the faintest sound of gunfire. "Sounds like the batarian's arrived." he noted, already rushing up the stairway.

The turians, even though bloodied, followed him up the stairs.

"Activate the emergency beacon Lieutenant." he heard the general order. "We'll need pick up soon."

"What about Haliat?" the officer questioned.

"We'll reach him in time." the general replied. "How are you getting away from here, human?"

Specialist Rei activated the transmitter on his left wrist and the wrist watch like beacon started to transmit. "Lake Trasimene, I'll need pick up in five. Be advised, I found some turians and the volcano is about to erupt. Over."

"Repeat your last. Over" it came through his radio.

"The volcano is not dormant, it's gonna torch this whole place any minute now. Better hurry up." he said as he reached the end of the staircase, a silver door already opened to reveal a long hallway ending in something that resembled a hangar. Roughly half way through, several pirates were carrying the artifact with a hooded figure heading the file formation.

"Haliat!" he heard the turian leader roar as he began to fire his pistol at the pirates, dropping one who had apparently not even bothered to turn on his kinetic barrier, with a precise headshot. After his pistol overheated, something Rei personally saw as one of the major disadvantages of the mass accelerator guns, the general snatched the rifle of the injured turian before advancing, his unit trying to keep up as the leader rushed through the corridor, his sense of self preservation apparently being overruled by his determination to completing his assignment.

Tao, being human and slightly slower than a turian of similar training, went into a mad dash as well, his aim to reach the Object Omnicron before the turian came into contact with it, his shouts of warning while he sprinted after the turians apparently either inaudible, ignored or in vain.

The pirates however split apart, with roughly half of the group turning around, intend on stopping the turian's charge, two of them falling prey to his assault rifle before they closed the distance. The turian general dropped another pirate, the rounds of his mass accelerator opening up the salarian's skull just before he tackled an asari, smashing her into the wall before jabbing the same curved blade Tao had seen used by 'Veltax' into the asari's skull with incredible force fueled by anger and adrenaline. Letting go of the asari, he raised twisted to fight a vorcha, only for that particular pirate to be thrown into the direction he had come from, the biotic lieutenant taking him out before his claws could touch her general.

Tao entered the fray a mere second after the turians, shooting his M-83 at a batarian pirate, cybernetic implants making him even more repugnant than usual, the bullets punching through the considerably less resilient skeleton of the alien. The batarian dropped on one of his knees as the rounds destroyed parts of his brain, the specialist jumping off the ground, one leg pushing himself of the batarian's knee and another using the fallen pirate's shoulder as a jumping board before he could collapse.

"Go, we'll take care of them." he heard Veltax declare as he wrestled with a bigger batarian. "Get Haliat, destroy the artifact!"

Flying through the air, Tao managed to get a shot of at the hooded turian, the round grazing the figure's arm but once more causing not even the slightest reaction of pain or fear. Sticking the landing, Tao simply kept running, the turian general swiftly catching up with him, their target mere meters away from them.

The human specialist and the turian general, both getting faster with every step, fired at the last remaining pirates, most of which were by now bleeding but still pushing carrying the artifact forward, and caught up with them just as they got into the hangar, Nonuel's now completely black sky dominated by a lone batarian ship hovering hundreds of meters over the ground.

The hangar was half way dug into the volcano, a large door opened to the outside, batarian drop shuttles deploying squads of their External Forces as they struggled against the rest of the pirate band, most as far as Tao could tell, crudely enhanced by the device now right behind them.

"Don't touch it!" both he and the general cried at the same time, looking at each other in the process.

The momentary distraction was all the hooded figure had needed as he shot forward, grabbing the general by the throat with a metal arm. Tao raised his M-83 only to have the figure slap it aside and punch him in the face, a visible crack appearing as the helmet's HUD began to inform him that its integrity was compromised. He couldn't take another blow like that.

"You are blind, Desolas Arterius!" the turian called Haliat snarled at the general who was struggling to remove the metal appendage closing itself around his throat. "Don't you see? They can improve us."

The general reached for his curved blade, jabbing its tip into the figures torso just as Tao tried to slash his own knife at the modified turian, failing to connect as his other hand shot up and grabbed the specialists wrist mid-air with impossible speed.

"Don't you see how weak you are?" he questioned as the general kept stabbing the knife into the turian's body, failing to weaken the enemy's grip and coming ever closer to passing out from a lack of oxygen, his thrusts growing weaker with each time he withdrew the blade. "Bound by the limits of your flesh, holding onto it because of misguided beliefs."

Tao dropped his knife, the turian caught up in his monolog, and caught it with his free hand as he felt parts of his wrist break from the incredible force the turian could apparently muster.

Rei put all of his strenght and all of his hope into the next move.

A swift cut, a precise cut, a powerful cut. He would tear his knife, capable of punching through armor if enough force was applied, into the turian's plated arm, trying to achieve even the smallest amount of wiggle room, just enough to free his other arm.

However before he could hope for that, a powerful quake rocked the mountain, a piece of the ceiling falling down on all three of them, all three, Desolas and Tao freed from the modified turian's grip as he jumped away, narrowly avoiding being crushed.

But the mountain didn't stop it's onslaught there, parts of the floor underneath the artifact beginning to glow orange as the modified turian rushed towards it.

"There's a magma chamber underneath it." the turian realised as his unit finally caught up to them.

"Evac is one minute out General." the Lieutenant said. "Volcano is going critical."

"Get there, we'll take care of this." Tao injected as a similar message echoed through his own radio, Desolas nodding his affirmative at the specialist's statement.

They stared down Haliat as the three turians rushed past them, using the confusion caused by the quake in both the pirates and batarian forces to their advantage.

Desolas was the first to make a move, launching himself at the other turian with only his knife and a desire to kill.

Tao went left, firing his pistol at the turian but the rounds simply bounced of the metal talon Haliat raised to protect himself.

Desolas reached the turian and instead of going for the torso like his previous situation had forced him to, managed to slice its tip across the turian's face, blue blood flowing down from the cut.

"Your actions here change nothing. Our path has been set for millennia, there is nothing we can do to fight it!" he declared as he swung at Desolas, the turian rolling under the punch and grabbing a hold of the heavily modified opponent.

"Listen to yourself, this is not you, Captain Haliat!" the general shouted as Tao struggled to get a clean line of fire, another quake interrupting him from squeezing the trigger in fear of shooting his ally. He felt his footing turn loose, jumping aside as parts of the hangar gave in to the heat underneath, sinking into a pool of lava and causing the entire part they were standing on to tilt, forcing Tao to magnatize his gloves in order not to join the hangar's fate.

"Haliat is dead." the turian declared, shoving Desolas of himself as he saw the artifact slide towards the lava. "No!" he shouted as he jumped after it, his organic arm grabbing the sphere as his inorganic claw dug itself into the metal, stopping him shortly before the heat of the pool would cause him to catch fire.

Desolas, a single magnetize glove saving him from falling into the hellish pit, stared at the turian as Tao began to climb up.

"Captain Haliat." he began, "You're still a soldier of the Hierarchy. Your deeds do not release you from the oath you took."

"Haliat is dead!" the turian repeated in a deep voice. "I am merely a servant of the Harbinger now."

"The cause you serve is that of the turian people!" the general countered.

"There's no future in that cause, it's futile." the turian replied as the lava began to rose, unable to move up as one of his hands was occupied holding the purple sphere.

"Ryōshi, the shuttle is almost here, where are you?"

"Twenty seconds." Tao replied as he reached the top, looking down at the stare off between the turian general and the turian monstrosity.

"Elanos. A hunter knows when his time has come."

The look on the turian's face changed as his legs started to catch on fire, the sentence apparently holding a very strong meaning to both of them.

"Thank you, General." the turian said in a shift in his voice, the low tune disappearing in favour of a softer somewhat pleasant flanging. "From the shadows we preserve the light."

The general nodded one final time at the turian before he closed his eyes, the blue vanishing.

Then the claw withdrew itself form the metal, Haliat alongside the Object Omnicron falling into the pit of lava and being consumed by it in an instant, no cry of pain escaping his mouth.

Tao waited for the turian to make the climb, reaching for his hand and pulling the general up.

"You'll get out?" he called as the two began to run through the hangar which started to collapse behind them, batarians and pirates joining them as they too realised the imminent eruption.

"Yes." the turian replied as Tao spotted both the familiar shape of a HSA shuttle going in for a landing and a turian one already picking up the three members of the general's unit.

Tao split away from the turian, his eyes set on the green Kodiak touching down at the end of the rocky part of the hangar, satisfied that he wouldn't leave the turians to burn. He took a running jump, leaping off into the opened door and the shuttle took off as soon as he was inside. The crew member simply looked at him as he closed the door, the sight of the volcano's top starting to spew more lava than he had ever seen and a turian shuttle flying of into the opposite direction being the last impression he ever gathered of Nonuel.

* * *

 _Codex: Turian Blackwatch_

 _Founded at the dawn of the Turian Hierarchy, the Blackwatch serves as whatever the Primarchs need it to be. The elite special operative teams are skilled in anything ranging from the infiltration of space ships, carrying out raids behind enemy lines to leading frontal assaults against suicidal odds and coming out on top._

 _Trained in the mountains of Palaven, they draw their tradition from the natives of the region, going as far as using the Mexta, a curved blade designed by the indigenous population of the Hinalius Mountain Range, trainees are subjected to rigorous training at extreme heights to improve their overall physical conditions. Details about the training methods employed by the unit are classified to the general public._

 _It is however known that a series of ancient saying are drilled into the recruits in a way that they surface if the situation requires it. It is believed that this is done through constantly exposing the recruits to extreme situations while the sayings are read to them._

 _The exact strength of the Blackwatch is unknown although command structure, deployment range and its classification as a legion make it reasonable to assume that roughly 3000-6000 turians serve in the unit at any given time with an unknown number of reservists having completed the training, living as 'grey men' inside turian society, ready to deploy the moment the Hierarchy calls on them to serve again._

 _In late 2394, after almost six years of discussing the matter with the Hierarchy's central command, the 79th commander of the Blackwatch, General [redacted], was given permission to spearhead an exchange program between human and turian special forces, selected recruits of each unit being sent to train with their counterpart._

 _This program marked the first time in galactic history that the Blackwatch opened its doors to outsiders, previously turning down asari commandos, STG recruits, batarian SIU members and drell assassins for various reasons ranging from 'biological differences' to 'Not needing any more targets for shooting drills' (regarding the batarian offer in 2093 CE). It is unknown as to what drove the 79th commander of the Blackwatch to break the long standing tradition of only accepting turian recruits._

* * *

 **A/N: (Date 7. October 2017) So... for some reason this chapter was completly fucked up by and I had to reconstruct it entirely by going from an earlier draft. I think nothing got lost in the process but on the offchance that something doesn't match the chapter, it's because the side screwed it.**

 **Jesus christ, I wonder how long this has been this way. :o**


	16. A Threat, A Trial, A Farewell

**Chapter 16. A Threat, A Trial, A Farewell**

* * *

 **2130 CE, Palaven**

The recording was frozen on a monster Desolas had faced regularly in his dreams ever since encountering it, the metal claw still dug into the melting surface of the hangar, a purple artifact clutched in it's organic hand, the turian's legs already catching fire from the lava below. The recordings hadn't left the same impact as seeing the creature had.

"Which brings me to my last question regarding this recording, General Arterius," the voice of his superior flanged, black plates covered by blue facial marks shifting as the mandibles moved to create the rest of the question. "Who is this Harbinger the late captain mentioned?"

Desolas straightened himself as the head of the turian naval intelligence, Galus Fedorian stared at him with piercing, yellow eyes. The man, rumored to soon make a move to advance to the 27th and last tier of turian citizenship, making him a Primarch, waited for the battle-scarred turian to answer.

"We don't know, Sir. Not for sure," he answered, meeting the eyes of Admiral Fedorian.

"What do you believe him to be, General?" the admiral replied his finger typing in a series of commands to replay the audio.

"Haliat is dead," the haunting voice echoed through the otherwise empty office. "I am merely a servant of the Harbinger now." It sent shivers down Desolas's spine, two decades of service in the Blackwatch and nothing had left a mark on him like this encounter.

"I believe him to be the creator of the artifacts,"

"Do you believe him to be a threat to the Hierarchy, General?" he asked as he turned his head towards the monstrosity, apparently completely unaffected by the sheer wrongness of Haliat's features.

"I do," Desolas said. "Even though evidence is scarce, we know that the artifacts can make people do things, they normally would never think about. We know that they use the people they manipulates in an intelligent way, it isn't like a drug inducing a certain set of behavior. No, it's more than that. The pirates had a plan, they moved with purpose."

"Your report, and the recordings of your mission, make it clear that the pirates viewed it in a religious light. Is it possible that this was simply a cult forming itself around unknown alien technology?" the admiral questioned. "Such things have happened in the past."

"Captain Haliat's rapid change in behaviour doesn't suggest that. It supports the theory that the artifact controls the people in a way. Before he returned to its proximity, he seemed conflicted, almost as if his personality was split in two pieces, one loyal to the artifact and growing, the other one loyal to the Hierarchy, fighting a losing battle against the artifact's influence."

"I get the impression that the artifact implants ideas in people," the admiral began, "Haliat spoke of voices in his head." The turian said as he brought up Haliat's previous messages.

"I believe the ideas being the first stage, followed by cybernetic implants and finally almost complete control over those it affects," Desolas stated his observations. "The implants probably reinforce the control the artifact has over those it affects.

"General Arterius, I believe you," Fedorian spoke. "However, the lack of evidence combined with the batarian lockdown of the entire Dis System, makes it a hard case to bring up to the Primarchs."

"Admiral, with all due respect, I am certain that this 'Harbinger' is still out there, Haliat spoke of the arrival of something," Desolas reasoned. "And it didn't sound like that arrival was in the distant future, it sounded like something both of us will live to see. This is an immediate threat."

"I agree with you to a certain extend and I will take your case to the Primarchs. There is more to this, however we can't prepare for something we know nothing about," the head of TNI argued. "What if we prepare for a foe we believe to be carrying a spear but when he arrives we realise that it was simply an arrow for a bow thought bigger than possible?" the admiral questioned, his example a reference to a book written by one of the most praised turian military commanders to have ever lived. It was a solid example, the story of how the opposing force hadn't been aware of the new ranged weapon a well known example for knowledge being key when planning one's strategy. "We'd be slaughtered from a distance, the expectation of a melee fight being completely wrong, our high ground giving us no advantage against the weapons used by our foe."

His mandible's twitched as he paused his explanation. "We need to learn more about this Harbinger, we need to investigate every lead we have on it and then, when we understand its nature, the way it thinks, what it wants, then we can prepare. Your mission turned up no artifact, that's correct. However you've gathered data, delivered eye witness report, took recordings," the admiral began to list. "The battle of Tunae Prime handed us some of the cruder cybernetic implants. We know what to look for now."

Desolas was relieved, somewhat. While not the exact reaction he had hoped for, the admiral would at least take action.

"There is justice in your claims, something drove Haliat and we need to understand it, but I can't ask the Primarchs to invade Jartar to get to the bottom of all of this. This matter requires a different approach. A more sublte one. You have to understand this General Arterius."

"I do, Sir," he replied.

"TNI will take this matter into its hands, if we require the Blackwatch again we shall inform you."

"Yes, Sir."

"You are dismissed, General Arterius."

The turian general got up from the chair, offered a sharp salute, turned on his heel and walked out of the admiral's office, a burden lifted of his shoulders.

Now to attend family business.

* * *

 **21\. June 2388 AD, Cronos Station, 'Section 13'**

"They are even more dangerous than we thought," he sighted, "it only needed ten days to turn a bunch of pirates into cybernetic killing machines."

"I believe that confirms our suspicion, doesn't it, Specialist Rei?" his superior asked.

"Yes director, the Object Omnicron is definitely capable of learning. It possesses some sort of intelligence, it seemed like-"

"It had a plan," he finished the sentence. "I agree."

"The pirates viewed it in a very religious way." the director of Section 13 observed. "It might use that very effect to make people do something."

"On that,I disagree." Tao said. "The religious aspect is a symptom, not the cause."

"Then what is the cause?" the soft voice of the director questioned.

"Most likely proximity and time of exposure."

"Back in 2379, when the IFS stumbled upon a very similar object," the director said as the blue light of the projector began to assemble the footage gathered back then. "The incursion back then could've gotten a lot worse. Especially if the Object Omnicron had been active any longer."

"What are you getting at, Director?"

"These things are incredibly dangerous, yet we spent the last years only looking for signs of them surfacing," the head of Section 13 stated, "Maybe we should rethink that approach. By the time we catch the next one, it might grow to a scale that can't be kept secret."

"You want to hunt them down? Make the knowledge public?"

"I want to find out who created them, they sure as hell didn't built themselves."

The recordings paused as the director froze the frame and once more called up the image of the modified turian.

"Merely a servant of the Harbinger," the director quoted as she turned around in the chair, no longer facing the view of the star that hid Cronos station, a trait Harper had adopted from her, most certainly to add a sense of drama to his conversations. He could see that she was trying to connect things.

The woman didn't really look like she was the leader of the 296 deadliest humans in existence and that very trait had made her such an asset when she first entered the field over thirty years ago. People looked at Tao and they saw a scarred, bulky marine with a buzz cut. An obvious threat. People looked at the director and saw a woman with brunette hair, amber eyes, pale skin and a friendly smile. No one would ever suspect her to be the reason behind hundreds of assassinations. The 'Widow Maker' being a complete phantom even by Section 13's standards.

"Our assumption that these things were simply a weapon left behind by a race that once set foot on Shanxi has been dead wrong," she sighted. "The last nine years that we've known about these things, we could've used them to prepare. Instead we wasted them."

"You think that this Harbinger guy has a game plan?" Tao questioned.

"I'm afraid he's been playing the long game this entire time," she replied.

"The devices acting as a stage of his long term strategy," Tao suddenly began to see a picture. "He creates a few sleeper cells, those cells spread his influence via the objects and then they wreck havoc before he moves in for the kill."

"Disrupting the enemy without putting his own assets at risk, all the while weakening his target," the director concluded.

"This is bad."

"This is something Section 13 is not equipped to deal with, our numbers don't allow for the actions we need to take now."

"What's our move?"

"We need to catch up on nine years of wasted time, fast. We don't know anything about the foe we'll face and he's been watching for long enough to have most of his pieces right where he wants them."

Tao cracked his neck, a tick he had developed to ease tension in his whole body, it worked for him.

"I have a terrible suspicion right about now."

"Ma'am?" the specialist questioned, not understanding what she was talking about.

"You're dismissed, Specialist Rei. I'll need you to prepare a briefing for high ranking Cerberus officers by tomorrow morning."

"You're bringing them into this?"

"This is a matter we can't possibly bring up to the public. Not yet. Before we-"

"We need to have the hard facts," Tao finished her line of thought. "Hard facts we are too few to gather effectivly."

"I'll have Cerberus dig through every ruin we ever found, ever little detail they find about past galactic civilisations, extinction events, reports of strange contacts. Myths of other galactic cultures."

"Why, Ma'am?"

"If I am right, this has been going on for a long time. If that's the case, there will be traces. No one is a complete ghost, not even me."

"I'll have the briefing ready by tomorrow morning. Want me to send Harper?"

"No, I'll humor him and let him do the chair thing to me for a change," the director chuckled. "After all, I'm about to drown him in even more work."

"Poor bastard." Tao said to himself as he closed the door of the directors office.

* * *

 **29\. June 2388 AD, Citadel, Docking Bay D-24**

"Why don't you ever take me somewhere nice, Redford? You know I hate this place," Tela mocked as she stepped out of the airlock, the entire docking bay cleared of people, armed marines replacing them, assault rifles ready to put down anyone who'd stand in their way.

"Hey, I took you to a spa on Illium once," the man countered as he followed the former Spectre, shields and her own biotics ensuring she wouldn't be gunned down on her way to the shuttle waiting to take her to the chambers of the Council's supreme court in which Tevos's trial would be held in a few hours.

Redford gave the N7 squad that would accompany them for the rest of the day the sign to form up around him and the HSA's most valuable witness, effectively adding their own bodies and armor to the shield around Vasir.

"Crashing through the roof while police forces hunt us is not exactly ' taking me somewhere nice'," he heard her snark from behind him.

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," the specialist argued in an amused tone.

Ever since April he had been stuck guarding the former Spectre. Accompanying her to interrogations, taking part in the interrogations himself, working on their case against the former asari councilor on trial today, gathering pieces of information regarding other matters from Tela Vasir by showing her that the HSA was willing to work with her, plead her case for her.

"Can I have a gun now?" she nagged for what had to be the tenth time in the last hour.

"You are basically a space magician," Redford countered. "You don't need a gun and I doubt that they'd let you inside the court with one anyway."

"I know, I still want one though," she replied, "Just in case the jury's not as impartial as I need it to be."

"All the more reason not to give you one."

Tela Vasir was a strange case, deadly serious when the situation required it, incredibly irritating when she wanted to be but at the same time still somewhat charming once one got through the layers of the jaded former Spectre. He got into the shuttle and sat down, the asari taking a place next to them as the N7 team shuffled in.

"So they'll finally make her pay," Tela mused. The trial had been delayed time and again by 'inconveniences' on the part of the defense, the sudden retirement of an asari judge and other disturbances Redford was certain could be traced back to the few powerful asari matriarchs still on Tevos's side if one bothered to look a little closer.

Not that most people actually did. Even the jury had thrown stones into the path of the trial.

He had seen the jury, it wasn't surprising really.

There were ten, two asari, two salarians, two turians, a volus, an elcor, a hanar and one batarian. Two representatives for each council member, one for each associate, just as the law of the Council demanded.

Not a single human would be able to take part in the actual process of punishing the councilor. The evidence gathered by the HSA would be presented by a C-SEC officer followed by the judge questioning Tela Vasir and Ambassador Goyle.

That was humanity's part in this case.

He understood why the government had decided to play along. Honor the laws of the council, push for a seat using the leverage gathered in the last years, make the best out of the situation.

Just because he understood didn't mean that he liked it.

Redford sighed.

"Everything alright, Sir?" an N7 questioned immediately afterwards, his head turning to the same window Redford had looked out off, looking for whatever could've upset the specialist.

"Yes, just had to get that out my system Master Chief," Redford replied, the N7 relaxing in an almost unnoticeable manner, Redford's training being the only reason he had noticed how the soldier had tensed up in the first place.

"You don't believe that they'll give Tevos what she deserves, do you?" the Spectre questioned from the side.

"The judge is an asari," Redford replied, "no offense."

"None taken, I get it. You don't think she'll be as harsh as you want her to be," Vasir answered,"If this was up to me, I'd just put a bullet into her and be done with it."

"Sadly it isn't."

"Coming up on the landing area," the pilot informed Redford who got up as the N7 escort rose from their seats, "C-SEC presence is stronger than expected."

"Off to a great start," Redford said as the shuttle touched down and a soldier opened the door, the unit jumping out and forming up around him and Vasir once more. He saw the turian walk up to him, the blue armor and sigil of C-SEC putting his mind somewhat at ease.

"I'd ask you to hurry up," he began, "We got a last minute lead that someone might make a move during the transfer between the landing zone and the chambers."

"I understand, let's move it people," Redford ordered as he began to scan his surroundings, C-SEC snipers littering the roofs, several patrol cars circling the area, a platoon of C-SEC's special response unit waiting in front of the chambers. Citadel Security had done quite the number on this place.

Jogging towards the chambers, he somewhat expected an attack. This was the moment they were most likely to make a move after all, the higher levels allowing any assailant an easy drop on the formation.

He knew that he would do it right now after all.

Sneak up on a lone sniper, wait for him to check in, knock him out, fire his rifle to do the deed, make it seem like the knocked out officer was responsible. Vanish as undetected as possible, leaving behind a false trail in the process.

Part of Redford knew he had been assigned to lead this protection mission precisely because he could think like an assassin. For the same reason Alec Shepard had gotten his job as Goyle's chief of security. Who would be better at spotting security holes than someone who was used to employing them in his favour?

As he set foot in front the court and no one had tried to kill him, Vasir or anyone in general, he let a small breath of relief escape his mouth before he made his move to step into the room.

Then batarian C-Sec officer walked up to him, extending his hands as if he would be capable of stopping the formation.

"This is as far as anyone besides the witness can go," he sounded as peaceful as his deep baritone allowed him to, "I'll have to ask you to leave her with us now."

Redford hesitated, his hand activating the communication device in his ear.

"Ambassador, is it true that we have to hand Vasir over to C-SEC?" he asked all the while planning to shove past the batarian.

"I'm afraid so, Specialist," she answered, "The only armed people getting in or out of the court are C-SEC. You can entrust Ms. Vasir into their hands." Always the diplomat.

"If you say so Ma'am," he said as the formation opened up at the front. "Watch your back."

"I'll be fine," she ensured him.

This would be a long wait, he knew it would be.

As he spotted Alec Shepard, looking very bored as he waited with the ambassador's security detail, Redford had found something to kill the time.

"Alec, mate," he called, the people inside the court house looking at him as if he had done something terrible just by raising his voice, "bloody marvelous."

* * *

 **Two Minutes Later, Citadel, Inside the Chamber of the Supreme Court**

The jury was seated on the right of the two present councilors, who acted as supervisors of the trial as dictated by the laws of the Citadel Council in case of a high ranking official being trialed, while the asari judge was seated at her bigger desk in the center of the room.

The witnesses, the accused councilor and other people present for the trial were placed opposite to the jury on the left side of the center desk. The defense, along side with Tevos, was facing the judge just as the prosecution was, a lone witness stand halfway between judge and accused.

Goyle herself had been asked to take a seat next to the prosecutor, a turian 'law giver' by the name of Janir Tralavia having practiced law on the Citadel for over twenty years. She had met her before, a meeting just days before having been set up by the turian councilor to ensure that they could go over the case unobserved.

Of course a human prosecutor would've been preferable, but since not a single human had even started to study Citadel Law due to associate status being a requirement to enroll in programs connected to the Citadel Council, she was glad it was a turian. After all, they had been the driving force behind arresting Tevos in the first place.

Goyle saw Vasir being seated in the shielded compartment assigned to the witnesses, the C-SEC guard behind her most certainly not there for her protection but rather to ensure the former Spectre didn't become a threat herself.

Shortly after Vasir, the judge herself arrived, causing everyone to rise from their seats.

"Be seated," the asari judge, Matriarch Janiva, ordered. "Today I will hold the trial between Matriarch Tevos and the Citadel Council," she declared. "Without further ado we will now hear the prosecution opening statement."

The turian next to Goyle rose from her chair, taking a look around herself before she walked in front of the judge, placing herself next to the witness stand.

"Upon becoming a councilor one takes an oath to work towards galactic cooperation, act in the interest of peace and the protection of innocent life," she began. "As all of you are painfully aware, the accused broke that oath in the hope of furthering her own agenda, neglecting her duty towards her people, the Citadel Council and the galactic community."

The law giver paused for a moment before turning towards the jury.

"Matriarch Tevos and the late Councilor Vaelan conspired to provoke a terroristic attack against three human colonies, killing tens of thousands of innocents in the process," she stated, "betraying everything they swore to uphold in order to alienate the newest arrivals to our community. The Citadel Council has always embraced the unknown, working through issues between galactic civilizations by using diplomacy in order to find common ground. The accused spat on that heritage, betraying the very principles of the galactic community. For that she stands trial and I trust the Council, its judge and its jury to honor our principles and make her answer for her crimes."

This was a good opening, make the case a crime against everyone, get compassion from the individual species by appealing to the social stigmas of each culture. Breaking an oath was certain to draw turian ire, her betrayal and neglection of duty only adding to the things that would make any turian vote against her.

By pointing out the lack of diplomacy and the fact that Tevos went behind the back of the Asari Republics, she would rattle the two asari and in the process draw salarian sympathy due to Tevos harming the long-term cooperation between the new arrivals and the Council, the Union having a reputation for being very eager to strike deals with others in the past.

She was appealing to the volus, elcor and hanar representatives by talking about the importance galactic community, the three associates most dependent on cooperation. The opposite of cooperation being conflict and conflict would lead to the turian patrol fleet decreasing its activity in their space due to having to move to new found threats, making their an attractive target for pirates or slavers.

This in turn would lead to them having to cover their own territory with their own navies, a job they were as far as Goyle was aware not fully equipped to do because of different founding priorities. Conflict would lead to an economical shift they didn't desire.

The Vol Protectorate had disbanded most of its space vessels in favour of trade ships ever since becoming a client race of the Turian Hierarchy, the turians offering protection, soldiers and weapons and relying on the volus to keep their economy going. The funds freed up were accumulated and used to further bolster the economy of the volus.

Meanwhile the Illuminated Primacy, the government of the hanar, had never bothered to build a big fleet due to their biology causing them to underperform in comparison to bipedal races in the tasks of space combat, instead opting for complex planetary defense systems and isolationism and spending their money on sustaining the drell cities on Kahje or searching for artifacts of the 'Enkindlers'.

Finally the Courts of Dekuuna only maintained a small fleet due to their culture opposing hasty rushes into warfare and just like the Illuminated Primacy their self sustained, somewhat isolated status allowing them to simply avoid it. In turn they used the credits that other races invested into dreadnoughts to build their colonies to a level that made them rival Dekuuna itself, colonial elcor infrastructure and living standards being unchallenged by the rest of the galaxy.

The turian law giver even managed to get some sympathy out of the batarian by accusing Tevos of 'spitting on the heritage', something considered an incredible social offense within the caste society of the Batarian Hegemony.

Janir Tralavia gave a respectful nod towards the councilors, the jury and turned back towards the judge.

"This concludes my opening statement," she spoke, her voice flanging through the courthouse

"Be seated."

As she walked back towards her seat, the legal representative of Tevos whispered something into the ear of the judge.

"The defense has informed me that they will withhold a statement for now, therefore I'd like to question the first witness," Matriach Janiva informed the chamber. "The defense calls the aid of Matriarch Tevos, Jalezina T'Val as a character witness. Please be seated in the witness stand."

And so the trial began.

The judge questioned the aid on Tevos's behaviour in the months leading up to the conspiracy, how she acted while she did the things she was on trial for and how the aid would judge her character. The young asari maiden, obviously shaken up by the entire situation, her admiration for the former councilor and what Goyle believed to be a classic case of a crush adding to her current state.

Once the aid had been questioned and somewhat traumatized in the ambassadors mind, the idea of her idol turning out to have betrayed everything she had admired about her now implanted in her brain, the C-SEC detective began to present the evidence against Tevos.

The first piece of evidence was the trail that had led them to Vasir in the first place, the turian detective doing an admirable job at showcasing the findings of HSAIS and Cerberus, the laters achievements being attributed to N7. He outlined the details behind what had placed them on Vasir's trail, described how she had came to work with the HSA and finally played the recording, Tevos's voice echoing through the chamber as he presented the technical analysis confirming the audio file to be completely real.

He had made a solid case, Janir Tralavia injecting questions to reinforce the prosecutions point when she felt it was necessary.

After completing that part of the trial, the judge spent some time questioning the detective on Vaelan's role in the entire conspiracy, the audio file serving as the main piece of evidence against the late salarian councilor.

Being dead meant that the time dedicated to his case paled in comparison to Tevos, the judge quickly coming to the conclusion that Vaelan was an actor in the conspiracy but not the main cause behind it.

"That will be all, Detective," the judge said. "I now call former Spectre Tela Vasir into the witness stand, please be seated."

Goyle saw the former asari Spectre walk from her special place towards the witness stand, the C-SEC officer not leaving her side even as she sat down, the certainty clearly visible in her face.

"Ms. Vasir, you've delivered the biggest evidence against Matriarch Tevos, even though you were part of her plan," the judge began. "Was the motivation behind your cooperation with the HSA to escape parts of the responsibility you hold in the events that conspired between 2129 CE and 2130 CE?"

"No. My motivation was getting back at the bit-"

"Mind your tone, Ms. Vasir," the judge interrupted her, "Consider this a warning."

"My motivation was petty vengeance really. Matriarch," the venom the last word carried was evident to Goyle and the rest of the people present, "Tevos wanted to blame everything on me. I simply acted on her orders as my superior and for that she wanted to use me to get away with what she did."

"Is it true that you were blackmailed by Matriarch Tevos with the fact that you worked with the Shadow Broker?"

"She tried to blackmail me, that is correct. Precisely because of that I recorded her in the first place," Vasir said as she looked over at Tevos, who had yet to say a single word.

The asari had patience, Goyle had to give her that much although if she was in her place, she wouldn't say anything either. The evidence against her was simply overwhelming.

"You claim to have acted on her orders as a Spectre, yet you conspired with a known enemy of the Council, the Shadow Broker."

"My allegiance was always with the Council, the Shadow Broker helped me in my mission as an agent of the Citadel Council, you should be aware that Spectres walk a very fine line between good and evil. If doing a favour for the Shadow Broker meant getting information used for stopping a terrorist attack on an asari planet, I fail to see why I shouldn't have done it."

The judge was silent for a moment, considering Vasir's example. Goyle was certain Vasir had chosen that very example for a reason, a reason she didn't know.

"Ms. Vasir, you are aware that none of this will help you in regaining your status as a Spectre, correct?"

"That's not my intention," the asari replied. "My intention is as previously established petty revenge. I took offense when she tried to had me killed," the Spectre chuckled. "Should've gotten the job done."

"Ms. Vasir, I have one final question," the judge sighted at the asari's behaviour. "Do you regret handing the accused the data she gave to the organizations behind the attacks?"

"I regret working for someone who betrayed me."

"So would you do it again?"

"If she didn't use me as a way to shift the blame, probably. If I wouldn't have done it, she would've found someone else anyway," that shocked Goyle a little, she had expected Tela Vasir to be somewhat regretful of her role in all of this.

Apparently she had been wrong.

"That concludes your questioning, I now ask the jury to withdraw while I come to a conclusion, unless there is something the defense or prosecution would like to bring up?"

A moment of silence.

Then the asari lawyer, Aria Laisir, spoke up, "I'd like to question Ambassador Goyle, put matters into perspective before you come to a ruling, your honor."

"Excuse me?" Anita Goyle asked as she looked at the asari.

"You have a right to refuse questioning, Ambassador," the judge informed her as she picked up on Goyle's surprise.

Of course she did but if she took it it would most certainly influence the jury. She knew exactly what the legal representative was trying to do. Punch a hole into their otherwise flawless case by bringing something up that would push the jury in Tevos's direction or by showing that she, the human representative, didn't have the guts to raise her voice in this case.

She wouldn't give that to her.

"No, I'll submit to her questioning," Goyle said as she got up, the turian prosecutor placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Mind your words," she advised. "I'm afraid she'll try to push you into a corner."

"Just intervene when she does something she isn't allowed to do," Goyle replied, the suspicion that the lawyer would try the same thing the prosecutor had done before, push the jury for a favorable sentence.

"Ambassador Goyle," the asari began. "You've served as the human representative on the Citadel for almost four years, correct?"

"Yes that is correct."

"In your time, have your actions not caused the same things the prosecution accused Matriarch Tevos of? Has your kind not done things that hinder galactic cooperation? Have you not acted to further your own gain?" she asked as she turned to the jury. "Is there not a certain hypocrisy to the opening statement of the prosecution," she asked the ten members of the jury and the two councilors.

Goyle didn't have to be a diplomat to know what Ioventus's expression meant but sadly he wasn't the one to do the ruling.

She had two paths ahead of her, one involved speaking the truth and pointing out that the council was asking humanity to cripple itself, throw away military independence all the while endangering everyone that couldn't fight for themselves in the process.

The other involved doing what diplomats did if they were pushed into such a situation.

Turn it around with the art of using words.

"My 'kind' hasn't ordered the death of thousands of innocent colonists because we were afraid that certain members," she looked at the turians and the volus of the jury,"might take a liking to someone new," they were already right where Goyle and the prosecution needed them to be.

"I simply asked if you have worked towards or against the galactic cooperation, Ambassador," the asari replied. Goyle suppressed the smirk. She had gone into the very direction she had wanted her to go.

"That depends, what do you call saving thousands of colonists used as slaves from the Blood Pack all the while dismanteling two major crime syndicates in the Terminus?" she asked, this ought to get the two asari. She knew they weren't from one of the worlds with Eclipse on its payroll after all. "What do you call joint maneuvers with the Hierarchy to exchange tactics and strategy?"

"I call it strange outcomes of reactionary thinking," she replied. "You've refused to accept the Treaty of Farixen yet you asked the council to prosecute a criminal for you. All your kind did-"

"Ms. Laisir," the judge interrupted. "I am going to ask you to stop referring to the ambassador and humanity as 'your kind'. This court is no place for this rhetoric."

That was unexpected, not unwelcome but unexpected.

"I apologize Matriarch Janiva."

"Continue."

"All humanity has done is ask the council to do things for them, while refusing to abide to our rules. How do you justify that, Ambassador Goyle?"

"I'd like to point out that I do not need to justify anything, I am not on trial," Goyle replied causing shocked whispers to sound off, "However I'd also like to point out that you just made a baseless accusation. We negotiated on the terms of the Treaty of Farixen, the other agreements leading up to it have been accepted by the Human Systems Alliance."

"So you refused to dismantle your dreadnoughts in the name of galactic peace."

"We refused to endanger those who lack the means to defend themselves, we are completely capable of defending our own space, those dreadnoughts help us do just that. Why dismantle them and spread out the patrol fleet, which protects those that require protection?" with that statement Goyle aimed to further draw the sympathy of the elcor, hanar and asari jury members. "This is not a political debate, Ms. Laisir. I am willing to answer your questions, I fail to see the point in discussing military matters."

Why the lawyer had thought she could challenge an ambassador sent to the Citadel in a duel of words was beyond Goyle, maybe she wanted to reduce Tevos's punishment, maybe Tevos had asked her to deal a final blow against humanity's image before she would lack the means to do it in prison.

Goyle didn't care. It worked in her favour up to now.

"Very well then, I have another question for you, Ambassador Goyle," the lawyer said, having considered her words carefully. "Can the galactic community expect the HSA to shelter people like Tela Vasir in the future as well?"

Questioning the morals of the HSA. Anita Goyle had seen that one coming, it was just a question of time until someone brought up Vasir again.

"The galactic community can count on the HSA to pull its weight in ensuring that its leadership remains true to their people."

That was the finishing blow. She saw it in the asari's eyes.

"No further questions your honor."

"I'd ask the jury to withdraw and come to a conclusion while I do the same. This court is adjourned for the time it takes both parties to come to a ruling. I'd ask the people involved in the trial to remain in the chamber, the people in the viewing stands and the media are free to leave this room," the judge concluded.

Now the waiting began.

At first time passed quickly, Goyle using the time to prepare for a meeting with Chancellor Noé after the trial and suggesting that the HSA should offer a few ships to help with patrolling duties in order to reinforce what she had just pointed out.

God knew the HSA would need incredibly good publicity if they hoped for a seat on the council, its actions having to outweigh its status as a newcomer by a big factor.

Then when she ran out of work, time slowed to a grind, the seconds passing way too slow and the minutes stretching far beyond their limitation.

Finally the judge entered the room again, the jury walking in at almost the same time, and everyone rose again.

"Please be seated," she ordered as her voice echoed through the silent chamber. "In the case of the Citadel Council against Matriarch Tevos, this court has found the accused guilty of conspiracy, neglecting her duty and causing the attacks on three human colonies as a direct result of her actions," she spoke, Goyle noting the lack of reaction on Tevos's face. "The sentence for crimes of this degree is imprisonment for life in a high-security facility."

Goyle already expected a but as she kept observing the stoic features of the former council.

"A sentence the jury agrees with. However, the accused would be put in danger, even when placed in a high-security facility due to her status as a former councilor. Therefore this court has decided to sentence her to house arrest in her residence on Thessia, handing her over to the authorities she betrayed and keeping her there until her dying day under the guard of asari police forces for her own protection. An imprisonment in a secure facility is not required due to no imminent danger coming from the accused. Adding to her confinement, she will be stripped of all political power and titles and measures will be put in place to keep her from interfering with politics ever again. This court closes the case, Matriarch Tevos will remain in C-SEC's custody until preparations have been made. The rest of you are free to leave."

* * *

 **2130 CE, Palaven, M** **ausoleum of the 22nd Palavani Legion**

It was the day of the funeral, Bassilo Kandros having returned home for one last time, his ashes placed in the silver container standing on a small table in front of his final resting place, a compartment in the hall of the fallen of the 22nd Palavani Legion.

Turians that died in the line of duty, something not nearly as common as during earlier times of the Hierarchy, were cremated, their ashes placed inside a container and locked up in the mausoleum of their legion. The 22nd's mausoleum contained thousands of the small boxes dating back to the first casualties of the Unification Wars, the thousands of soldiers that had died during the rebellion and the 1238 that had laid down their lives every since.

In death every turian was treated equally, even those shot by the hastatim for fighting the Hierarchy.

For that reason, Bassilo Kandros, the cabal who had been an outcast among regular turians, was placed in a small compartment next to a sergeant who had died inside a Jiris back on Tunae-Prime, the two being separated during their live due to one having biotic powers and the other not having them were now united in death for giving their life to uphold the Hierarchy. Their final acts committed to the oath they swore.

There was a certain beauty to it in Saren's mind although he didn't bother to think about the implications of it as the imperial anthem, Die for the Cause, sounded while Kabalim Vitallion and Kandros's wife placed the small box in the compartment. It wasn't proper to think about social principles while one's friend was placed in his final rest.

Vitallion nodded towards Kandros's wife, their daughter waiting with her parents in the front row, right next to the members of his unit, as both of them closed the compartment, its small door engraved with a name, a rank, date of birth and death, military commendations and a service number.

The Kabalim raised his voice.

"We lay our comrade to rest but we vouch to never forget why he laid down his live. For the Hierarchy!"

As tradition dictated, the active service men rose from their seats and echoed the final words of Kabalim Vitallion.

"For the Hierarchy!"

The kabalim guided Kandros's widow back towards a chair and knelt down in front of her, Saren standing beside him.

"We will not forget him," Vitallion ensured. "The Hierarchy will not forget you."

To the woman it most certainly sounded like an empty promise.

Vitallion lingered for a moment before rising from his kneeling position, making room for Saren.

"He mentioned you, you're Saren," she began to speak as she looked at him, the same red facial markings as Bassilo had worn pointing to a same place of birth.

"Bassilo was more than a comrade for me. He was a friend," Saren began. "A friend who showed me what it means to belong somewhere."

"He was a very kind soul."

"He also spoke of you and your daughter."

"He was so excited to be a father, spirits I-" she choked on her words.

"I own Bassilo something I can never repay to himself," Saren said as he brought up his omni-tool, "but I can repay it to his family. Your daughter, if there ever is anything I can do, anything you need help with, contact me."

He transferred his contact information, "The least I can do is take care of his family. It will never compare to what he did for me but it's a start."

"Thank you, Saren."

"There is nothing to thank me for," he replied as he got up, "Don't hesitate. I will answer."

"I know you will."

Saren walked back to his chair and was about to sit down when he was interrupted.

"Attention!" it suddenly echoed through the chamber, causing every turian still in the military to rise to their feet, standing at attention.

"Not in here Kabalim," a familiar voice called. "The dead deserve your attention more than I do."

It couldn't be.

"Desolas?" he asked as a figure in the grey dress uniform of a general walked past him and saluted the fresh compartment, golden markings signifying his rank, dozens of commendations lining his chest, a golden mexta on a black patch clearly visible on his uniform.

"It's been far too long, Saren."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was on Palaven and I said that we have things to discuss. I figured I'd not take a chance and ambush you. Let's take this outside."

"Of course."

The two brothers walked out of the mausoleum and into the camp of the 22nd Palavani Legion. It was a nice day for a funeral, the weather was beautiful, Palaven's sun warming his skin as the rays of light touched him.

"The Nova Cluster looks good on you," Desolas said as he placed a talon on the small blue orb, a white talon placed in its center. "You're still three behind though," the general chuckled as Saren eyed Desolas's wider array of military honours.

"About that," Saren began. "Blackwatch? Really?"

"I kept it a secret for a reason."

"Why tell me now, why like this?"

"I know you've been using my old clearance codes and before you apologize, I'm fine with that. It worked in our favour."

"I was always a rather curious child."

"That you were," Desolas said as his mandibles displayed his amusement.

"What was it that you wanted to discuss?" Saren asked.

"You saw the recordings of Haliat, didn't you?"

"Curious child," Saren repeated.

"Something is out there."

"I know."

"We need to do something about it," Desolas spoke. "If we don't, everyone inside that mausoleum died for nothing.

"I know," Saren replied again with a bitter tone.

"You already thought about it, didn't you?"

"About what?"

"I know you Saren, you believe that the best course of action right now is to get into a position that allows you to act as flexible as possible, a flexibility the Cabal Corps doesn't give you," he sighted. "When are you applying as a Spectre?"

"As soon as possible."

"I've seen your scores. I can give you the opportunity for training that will help you."

"I've been asked before why I didn't apply for the Blackwatch yet," he admitted, recalling the day he had completed a perfect series of tests.

"A new training class is starting in two months, as always there are still a few open spots," Desolas said. "I won't lie to you, it will be horrible beyond imagination but I believe that you can endure it."

"I need to endure it."

"Two years of training, after that the Council will beg you to become a Spectre. A biotic Blackwatch operative? I'd hate to let you go but I'd green light it."

"There might be claims of nepotism," Saren replied to his brother.

"Your scores speak for themselves, furthermore Blackwatch doesn't care who you are as long as you get the job done."

"Where do we go from there?"

"I don't know, not yet. I brought the matter to TNI," Desolas spoke as he picked up one of the few flowers that didn't have traces of metal in it, instead having evolved a natural tolerance against the radiation of the star Palaven orbited. "They want to gather more intelligence and I agree with that but I believe that we'll need more than that."

"As a Spectre, I could travel the galaxy to gather information, favours, clues."

"That's what I'm counting on," Desolas replied, "but there's more."

"What else is there right now?"

"We'll need allies, every ship, every soldier we can get. As a Spectre you can push for something that a turian general can't push for."

"And what is that," he questioned, the answer already forming on his tongue.

"You can push for a race sending their own Spectre and in doing so you can push for them getting their own seat," Desolas explained as he let the flower drift to the ground,"when this Harbinger comes and he will come, there's not a single doubt in my mind about that, we can't afford to argue about a reduction of dreadnoughts. We'll need every ship we can get."

"We'll need humanity."

"We won't be able to speak for some time, I'll have to make a trip to the Citadel," Desolas began. "If we don't see each other in the next two months, know the following," he placed a hand on Saren's shoulder and pulled him into a surprising hug, the feeling that Desolas himself needed it more than he himself crawling up in his spine, "I believe in you."

"I will make you proud, Desolas."

"You already have."

* * *

 _Codex: Turian Burial Practices_

 _Turian culture differentiates only between the turians that died in the line of duty and those that died outside of it._

 _The later group is buried in civilian mausoleum, their ashes stored for ten years until they are used as fertilizer, giving new life in agriculture or parks as a final service to the collective. The bodies of the highest tier of civilian life, the law givers, are given the same treatment as those of a factory worker._

 _Every turian is equal in death._

 _The former are honored with eternal storage in their unit's 'hall of the fallen', a complex build in every base camp ever since the founding of the Turian Hierarchy. The soldiers, in accordance to the history of each legion, are buried along side those who died in the same battles, their names, commendations and ranks forever documented on small plates attached to the compartments they are stored in._

 _Turians treat every dead, no matter who's allegiance they shared in life with the same respect and the corpses are burned due to the social stigma attached to dead bodies, which can neither be shown on camera, nor displayed in public. Even inside a casket. Therefore, the only way for the families to bury their loved one's is to burn them and store them inside a mausoleum._

 _During a military funeral the unit of the fallen is placed in the same row as their relatives, the bond between comrades seen as equal to that between spouses, siblings, children or parents._

* * *

 **A/N: So this one is shorter than the last chapter due to the fact that the last chapter marked the end of one plot line and this one's the beginning of a new one.**

 **Pieces are falling into play and Desolas meets Saren in person.**

 **I really wanted to get this one out before Andromeda, because let's face it, being european and all, starting thursday, I'll be quiet busy... playing Andromeda for the majority of the day and probably (who knows maybe I'll get inspired) not update until I'm done with the first playthrough, hype through the roof guys.**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter, writing the court scene and the implied back room dealings that took place before it (wink wink asari judge) was somewhat complicated but I hope I didn't fuck up.**

 **Let's just say, she might have been to court, but Tevos isn't out of the picture just now.**

 **As of right now we are at 108 reviews (I want more, give them to me), 261 favorites and 326 follows and I still appreciate the hell out of every last one of you, please give my your thoughts ont he story.**

 **Also people wanted some turian culture, so I gave it to them. It makes a ton of sense in my eyes, hope it does in yours too.**

 **See you around next time.**


	17. New Recruits

**Chapter 17. New Recruits**

* * *

 **2130 CE, Citadel, Presidium**

"That is a very unusual theory, General Arterius," the salarian councilor spoke, "and truthfully I don't know why you'd deliver it to me," the salarian said as he looked out of his office window, the Presidium in all of its artificial beauty clearly visible from his room.

"Because you aren't exactly who you claim to be, 'Councilor Idril', I haven't met many salarians in my life and I would never forget the face of the STG agent who was there during my first raid on a slaver base."

"Excuse me?" the salarian replied.

"Cozek, do us both a favour and drop the act," Desolas sighed, the memory of a STG agent shooting two batarians with a single round from his Carnifex while burning another with a plasma round fired from his omni-tool one of his favorites.

The salarian 'councilor', brought up his omni-tool, most likely deleting the last few minutes of their conversation from the records and exhaled once, something Desolas knew most STG agents to do when they had to make an important decision.

"Didn't think you'd remember," the shift in tone was evident, the long, smoothly spoken sentences vanishing in an instance, the salarian's stance changing into one more natural for someone that had spent the better part of his life in the military. Pulling down his hood, the scars of his past employment became visible, a rather large scar running down the right side of his head and a small piece of one of his horns missing.

"Doesn't take a photographic memory to remember such an entrance," Desolas chuckled.

"How dangerous? On scale from basic pirate raid to Rachni Wars?" the calculating voice of an intelligence officer began to ask.

"Worse than the Rachni, worse than anything we've seen up to now."

"You believe this Harbinger to be existential danger to galactic society?"

"Yes. We've barely scratched the surface of what he truly is but that is precisely what worries me."

"Salarian doctrine sees lack of knowledge as most likely cause for military defeat."

"You like to win your wars before you even start them and that's exactly why I came to you. Out of all the organisations I know, out of all the people I could possibly have contacted outside of the Hierarchy, I believe that STG has the highest chance of helping us catch up."

"Harbinger has been observing for untold amount of time?" the salarian asked, causing Desolas to nod,"Ahead of us, unknown how far. Artifacts could be beginning of strategy, could be part of final offensive."

"This thinking is why I contacted you," Desolas commented.

"Not your only reason, you want political support."

"And this is why I hate spies," Desolas sighed. "Matter of fact is you have a vote on the council and while you answer to the inner cabinet on big matters, you've probably been given some room to work by STG in order to do damage control."

"Correct."

"I need you to make every preparation you can possibly make without drawing attention."

"You fear that Harbinger is observing our actions?"

"Someone controlled those pirates, someone controlled those artifacts."

"Large military build up would provoke reaction. You fear accelerating main attack?"

"If your enemy is massing troops on your border, you don't just wait it out, you bomb them to ash while they gear up."

"Will forward this intelligence to STG."

"You're an old man by salarian standards, aren't you Cozek?"

"Final decade of my life expectancy will soon begin. You fear that my successor will be less cooperative?" the salarian agent spoke as he typed on his omni-tool.

"I fear he or she won't be a soldier, I fear that the next councilor will be like Tevos or Vaelan.."

"Selfish politician would endanger galactic society. Will make necessary preparations."

"Thank you, Councilor Idril," Desolas spoke as the door hissed open, pretending the last few minutes never happened. "We will stay in contact."

The salarian nodded before pulling his hood up and once more turning into his act, the scars that would raise some questions disappearing.

* * *

 **Six Months Later,** **2131 CE, Palaven**

"I'll ask you again, why are you here?" the instructor spat as Saren climbed up the hill again only to give the same answer as the forty times he had already given before.

"To become the soldier I need to be, Sir."

"I don't believe you," the grey plated turian replied, "do it again, come back with an answer I like " he ordered as the cold wind hit Saren's face. He knew this was some sort of test, they'd drop him the moment he complied. Saren rolled down the hill once more, his body already numb from the constant pain he experienced and the sleep deprivation he had suffered over the last week.

Desolas had told him about this part of training, the opening stage in which the legion aimed to eliminate all those it saw as unworthy. The absolute limit of physical suffering they could subject the recruits to without permanently injuring or killing them. Blackwatch wanted him to break, if he broke they could dismiss him and spent their time training the soldiers they thought could pull through the rest of the year and a half of training ahead of them.

They didn't need people who'd go back on their principles to avoid hardship or pain, it went against the legion's own code.

He felt the 'softer' ground of the hills flatening slope, signaling that his descend was finishing and once more began to climb up again. The face of the sergeant already telling him that this wasn't the final time he'd do it, recruits next to him struggling to get up while Saren simply kept pushing himself, ahead of the rest, driven by something bigger than himself.

He simply had to make it after all.

"So you bare face, why are you here again?" the instructor questioned, his tone as insulting as possible.

"To become the soldier I need to be, Sergeant." Saren replied.

"Lying, just as expected. Get down. Now."

This process dragged on for hours, Saren would climb up, the instructor would ask him why he had thought he'd apply for Blackwatch, Saren would give his honest reason and he'd be ordered to do it all again.

Saren only realised that time was actually passing when the light of a noon sun was slowly starting to fade, night approaching faster than he had expected or yet another recruit dropped out or was carried away by medics on a stretcher.

"Why are you here?" he was asked again.

"To become the soldier I need to be, Sergeant."

"There's no shame in quitting, Arterius. All of this ends when you tell me the real reason," the instructor said, their tactic shifting from insulting to somewhat nice. "A hunter knows when his time has come," he quoted in order to pursue him. "So just tell me."

"To become the soldier I need to be, Sergeant," Saren wouldn't give in.

"Again."

Saren dropped to the ground only to be stopped by the instructor.

"I ordered you to tell me again, Arterius. Tell me why you are here."

Looking around himself, Saren registered that out of the forty-six trainees of his class that had started the day, only he and three others remained, all of them stopped by their own instructors in varying stages of rolling down the hill, an unconscious turian being carried away on a stretcher by turian medics below.

He could see another 'class', only four soldiers by now, resting on a hill in the distance. They had been forty-three at the beginning of the day if he recalled correctly.

Yet another four on another rocky slope.

The final hill also marked by four turian silhouettes with the sun in their back.

Four soldiers left standing on each hill. One team standing on each hill. Blackwatch units were trained in teams. He knew that, he had forgotten it due to the pain of the last few days. Sixteen out of the 200 that had started training half a year ago remained. Four teams ready for the actual training.

It was really obvious now that he took the time to think about it.

"I am here to become the soldier I need to be, Sergeant."

"Get to your team, Arterius."

"Yes Sergeant," he replied before offering a sharp salute, new found strength allowing him to jog towards the first other trainee of his class, the soldier simply sitting down as his body gave in to the sudden rest.

One step closer to becoming a Spectre.

* * *

 **10\. April 2389 AD, Arcturus Station**

The months since Tevos's trial had been quiet, in comparison at least.

HSA forces had been withdrawn from the Terminus due to pressure form the Council, slaver bands now starting to become a more common sight along human borders in the Attican Traverse due to them filling the void left by the absence of either Eclipse or human forces. Just three days ago a raiding party had been intercepted by a non-scheduled patrol, the old batarian vessels fleeing the moment the patrol began powering up its weapons.

However, relations with the Council had improved, the new asari councilor aiming to avoid the mistakes of her predecessor. Alec had a good feeling about that matriarch, as far as he knew she had been selected for her abilitiy to control the damage of political fallout.

One Matriarch Benetia Tzoni if he recalled correctly.

He usually didn't though, asari names had never been his strong suit. Something about their language simply rubbed him wrong.

Ever since the political disaster that had been Tevos's last few months in power the shame of her actions had caused the asari to be more 'cooperative'. No longer did he have to deal with protests about 'war crimes' in front of the HSA embassy, the protestors now busy protesting Tevos's actions in front of the asari embassy.

They might be annoying and a threat to security but at least they weren't hypocrites, he had to give that part to them.

But he decided to shove work into a drawer for now. He had more important matters to attend to after all. Alec slid open the door to his home with one hand, balancing the large teddy bear on his other arm as he stepped inside. He closed the door as quietly as possible and noticed a breach of darkness inside the apartment.

She had stayed up. Waiting for him to come home.

"Surprise," he spoke, trying to keep his voice as down as possible as he walked towards the room which lights were still on.

"You are not nearly as sneaky as you think you are Alec," Hannah whispered back from inside.

"I'm losing my edge," he chuckled as he set the stuffed animal down on the desk before walking into the room he had heard the voice from, his wife dropping the tablet and rising from the couch.

"Just kidding, Anita ratted you out, she told me you'd get here today," she smiled as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

"Damn her."

"Emily's sleeping for now so I'll let that one slide," his wife informed him, her no swear policy once more entering the specialist's life. "She should be up soon though so watch it mister."

"No 'I love you'?" he asked as he tried his best to sound hurt, the joy of being home butchering the act.

"See it as punishment for keeping me this late."

"Last minute entrances are kind of my thing," he replied.

"I'm glad you made it," Hannah admitted as she placed a hand on his chest. "When I heard about the delay, I was sure you'd miss tomorrow."

"I promised I'd be there, didn't I?" he asked as the clock hit midnight, marking his daughter's birthday.

"Close call though," Hannah said as she observed the clock.

"You know 'Close Call' might as well be my middle name,"

"Weird, I always thought it was Emile."

"Why did I ever tell you that?"

"We both know the answer to that one, buddy."

* * *

 **11\. May 2389 AD, Terra Nova, Maguires**

Holderman stepped into the bar located on the outskirts of one of Tera Nova's smaller cities, the planet long since having moved past the point of consisting of one major hub of prefabs, nearly two billion humans spread across its surface by now. Most of them were decedents of the millions of migrants that had moved to the planet shortly before and after the founding of the HSA, living in real houses across Terra Nova's temperate areas near its poles.

The smoke of cigarettes and the smell of alcoholic beverages hit him just as bet as the ancient look of the house, the place was devoid of any modern technology as far as he could tell.

"What will it be?" a bartender asked him as he set down on one of the chairs next to the counter.

"Guess I'll take a beer," he replied as he began to look for his target.

He wasn't here for a joyride after all. Apparently the director was looking for people to start something, veterans, policemen, people with training and no place to use it.

He spotted a man sitting in a booth, smoking a large cigar as he stared at an half-empty glass of whiskey. His hair was black, his eyes a pale green, a large tattoo running down his right arm, the upper half of his arm covered by his red shirt.

He fit the description the Cerberus agent had been given.

Grabbing the glass he had been given, Holderman walked across the bar, taking care to blend in with the other people, seeming as if he belonged.

He dropped into the booth and set down his glass, "Sergeant Zaeed Massani?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Someone who can help you. I think I've got an offer for you, an offer you'll take."

"You sure about that? What the fuck do you even know about me?" the grizzled, noticeably intoxicated voice replied with a certainty Holderman would soon shatter.

"You were promoted and honorably discharged after a psychological evaluation found you unfit of duty, correct?"

"Beat it," his target slurred, realizing that the man who had approached him had insight in his life.

"After your sergeant was injured during a raid on a separatist cell, a raid in which an order you gave resulted in civilian casualties you were given a command, a rather successful one."

"If you wanna keep your teeth, you're gonna stop talking and start walking," the former soldier threatened.

"Nine years of service, enlisted at the age of seventeen, straight out of military school right here on Terra Nova," Thomas summarized what he had learned from Zaeed's file. "Yet you throw in the towel after a mission goes south. Why not do it when those civilians died?"

Zaeed made a move to punch him but lacked the sobriety to do so, causing Holderman to grab his head and smash it into the table just as the song currently playing stopped. People stared at him for the short break between the song's end and the beginning of the next one before returning to their business."

"One 'Vido Santiago' was court martialed after you reported him to have killed a prisoner during your last assignment, is that correct?" Holderman questioned as he let go of Zaeed.

"Vido was a good soldier but a shitty guy, shot an iffy that surrendered in cold blood." Zaeed replied, wiping away blood from the injury he had inflicted on himself while trying to punch Holderman. "They might be bastards but we still have rules."

"You were a great soldier as well. No casualties until your last mission, flawless success rate up to then. Now you're a drunkard wasting his time in bars. What does that make you?"

"None of your business, that's what I am." the veteran replied.

"You can't hold a civilian job, you can't go back to the army either. Your psychological discharge prevents an application to a police force as well."

"Get to the bloody point before I try punching you again," his somewhat frustrated voice insisted.

"Your life choices shows that you want to fight people who can't do it for themselves, you hate the thought of innocents being hurt, that's why that hand grenade stunt and the crimes of your subordinate still haunt you."

"And?"

"I can help you sober up and get you a job in which you can follow your true calling, Mister Massani."

"I'm listening," the other man said as he rested his head against the wall, keeping the blood from flowing down his nose.

Holderman retrieved a tablet from his jacket, a picture of a blue sun and a text below it visible on its screen, he handed it to the drunken man and leaned back in the booth. Zaeed began to read the file as Holderman took a sip from the beer, it was by far better than the cheap stuff he had drank during his time with the corps, that was for sure. Now he just had to wait for a reaction from his target.

When he finished, a chuckle escaped the drunken man's mouth.

"And?" Holderman asked.

"Why pick me? You said it yourself, I'm a drunken fool, not exactly a good trait for someone your boss calls 'high priority individual'."

"You have a problem with people that hurt the defenseless. You wouldn't have reported your comrade if you didn't, you wouldn't beat yourself up over collateral damage the way you do if you didn't. You drink because of a lack of purpose, once you get purpose you'll stop. Furthermore your leadership skills are something this group is going to need if it wants to succeed. People who can lead in the field."

"So you decide that I'm a good fit for leading a bunch of guys that shoot slavers in the Terminus because you think once I get to do that I'll stop being a drunkard and a liability?" as he began to raise his glass of whiskey.

"Exactly."

"Heh," he laughed. "That's crazy," Zaeed commented with the same slur.

"I'm going to need an answer," Holderman insisted mere centimeters before the whiskey would have touched Zaeed's lips. This was the moment of truth, the moment in which the psychological evaluation of Zaeed Massani would either turn out to be correct or a waste of time.

Then the man withdrew the glass once more, the whiskey distancing itself from his mouth.

"When do we leave?" he questioned as he set the glass down, his voice surprisingly free of the previous intoxicated slurring.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

 **9\. July 2389 AD, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

"To summarize, you'd be willing to allow human candidates to join C-SEC even though the HSA has yet to sign the associate status agreement?" Anita Goyle questioned, not expecting this surprise summoning to yield anything good.

"My colleagues and I have decided that humanity has proven its interest in upholding our own law, after all it was your species that alerted us to the conspirator in our own ranks. See this as a way to value your deeds and pave the road to better relations between our people."

This was most certainly a move to pacify more vocal parts of the population, still upset by the fact that one of the three members of the executive committee had turned out to be the master mind behind a war that had resulted in destruction not seen since the Geth War, a war that still had effects on their own colonies, some now threatened by the result of Tevos's actions.

As far as Goyle knew, Matriarch Benezia had been reluctant to take the position of councilor, assuring everyone that she was merely a 'temporary representative' at her inauguration nine months ago, although one could question exactly how long an asari, their life span being nearly a thousand years, considered temporary.

Tevos had acted as a councilor for nearly 168 years and she hadn't even come close to the longest ruling asari representative, Matriarch D'vos, who had served her species from the end of the Rachni Wars up to her death almost 350 years later.

For all Goyle knew, she'd look at Benezia for another ten years and she was strangely okay with it right now. The asari had most certainly been instructed to play nice in light of the public humiliation that had been Tevos's last year as a councilor although Goyle was certain that she'd grow less nice as the memory of that particular mess slowly faded into the past once a new major diplomatic incident appeared.

And new major diplomatic incidents happened, she had studied enough galactic history to know that much. Though if the pace kept advancing as it had ever since the HSA had appeared, that would be sooner than Goyle would want it to be.

Previously major diplomatic events happened once, maybe twice in a century. Examples being the almost war between the Hierarchy and the Hegemony, only stopped by a salarian veto that had resulted in nearly ten years of frosty relations between century old allies and the debate between settling claims on garden worlds which had driven a wedge between the Salarian Union and the Asari Republics shortly before the Krogan Rebellions, only the threat of complete military defeat causing them to throw such a dispute out of the window being examples of that pattern.

But in the last six years, things had gotten more complicated, the HSA creating ever closer ties with the Hierarchy who had longed after an ally that fit their own politics of acting instead of talking all the while antagonizing the well established original founders of the councilor by pushing for change that hadn't happened on such a scale since the edict that banned artificial intelligence in 1896 CE, a sore memory in the enduring lives of the asari and a repeated story in the short generations of the salarians.

"Will you forward this proposal to your government, Ambassador Goyle?" the salarian councilor Idril asked, tearing her from her thoughts.

"I will, councilors."

"Is it save to assume that the proposal will be accepted?" the turian councilor, Ioventus, asked.

"I am confident that my people will be grateful for an opportunity to move past the events of the last years."

"Then this meeting is adjourned," Matriarch Benezia said, "Contact us once your government has come to a decision, if you accept the proposal we'll begin making preparations as soon as possible."

"You have my thanks for this offer, Councilors," Goyle said, the diplomat in her telling her to say something the most important of councilors in the eyes of the HSA would enjoy hearing, "We are grateful for the opportunity to do our part in ensuring the security of this station and its people," this would most certainly earn her even more points with the turian councilor. Points the HSA would invest when the time to address the dreadnought issue came again.

The Chancellor had of course informed her of Project Chimera, the last option that would bent the rules regarding the definition of a dreadnought by shortening the main guns of the aging Everest-Class dreadnoughts and act as a work-around regarding the Treaty of Farixen but she had still been instructed to aim for another solution.

The preferred alternative considered right now was to offer an exclusive deal to the council, dedicate ships, especially the dreadnoughts that exceeded the limit put on the HSA by the Treaty, to the peacekeeping effort of the Council, mainly the Hierarchy, and reduce the economical and politcal strain placed on the Union and the Republics by relieving some of their ships from patrol duties, and deploy the human vessels in turn.

Both the salarian and asari 'government' lacked the centralization of the Hierarchy and the Human Systems Alliance. They had long since struggled to justify the deployment of military vessels in space that seemingly lacked armed conflict to the people they answered to, the individual republics in the case of the asari or the members of the inner cabinet of the Salarian Union.

Some elements in both the Salarian Union and the Asari Republics saw the constant deployment of naval vessels as a waste of money, the logistical strain and funding required to keep it going better invested into colonies or infrastructure projects..

Both of the governments had never experienced infighting on the level the Turian Hierarchy and the HSA had, nor did their military doctrine lean towards the large scale deployments seen in turian or human history, instead prefering smaller, highly skilled forces of skirmishers.

A doctrine that had almost resulted in their annihilation at the hands of the krogan, only a technological edge keeping them in the fight until they stumbled upon the legions and fleets of the Turian Hierarchy.

As a result of this approach, their respective navies never really grown since the entrance of the Hierarchy as a permanent guardian of galactic civilization, the general trend ever since 900 CE being a decrease in patrol activity of the two other council members followed by an increase of activity by the Hierarchy.

The Turian Hierarchy, only remaining silent about the issue due to their culture expecting them to take the weight of these duties on their shoulders, would most certainly approve the proposal.

She just had to get another councilor to do so, then the deal would work. She wasn't sure it would work thought, after all it was a radical change.

Right about now it looked like that councilor would be Benezia.

All in due time though, right now she would have to speak to the chancellor about potential recruits for the Citadel Security Service, C-SEC.

* * *

 **11\. November 2389 AD, Arcturus Station**

"The second anniversary of the mercenary attacks are coming up," the Minister of the Interior said.

"Colonial Watches are preparing for riots in the Fringe," General Vasquez added.

"HSAIS and Cerberus have leads on planned actions by separatists, Sir," Harper spoke as well. "It seems like they are being coordinated by one 'Surgeon', a new player."

"Slavers are growing more aggressive with every day, Chancellor Noé," Minister of Defense Suhail Nadim informed him.

"Ambassador Goyle's informs us that the preparations for the first C-SEC trials are almost finished." Kaldec, the man in charge of Alien Relations quickly injected.

Noé sighed. "I'm getting too old for this job," he lit up one of his cigarettes, "Alright. One thing after another," he folded his hands on the desk.

"I want HSAIS to work with the Colonial Watches in the fringe to crack down on any cell that represents a legitimate threat. Pass the targets on to ASOC, they'll take care of the matter. Increase patrols shortly before the vigil."

"Yes, Sir." the General spoke as he began to type on his tablet.

"What about the Surgeon, Chancellor?" Harper questioned.

"I'm getting there Harper," Noé said. "I want Cerberus to launch a task force, collect evidence, interrogate key people, find a trail to this Surgeon guy. Use him in our favour."

"We could take over his operations to draw out sleeper cells," Harper said. "I'll get to it," he added before the director of Cerberus joined General Vasquez in relaying orders to his subordinates.

"Moving on, the slavers are becoming more of a threat?"

"Yes," Minister Nadim replied. "A raiding party was stopped just in time by one Captain Hackett above one of our new colonies in the Skyllian Verge, their fleet could've carried away thousands, effectively destroying development."

"They'll try again, forward a detailed report of the engagement to the battle groups in the area and have them search for activity around the key relays. Maybe we can track down their movements, destroy their hub."

"We already did, that's part of the problem," Admiral Jun injected.

"Don't tell me, they fled into batarian space?"

"Yes. They escaped via a route leading deep into Hegemony territory."

"Tension is growing in the Verge," the chancellor observed. "Have Goyle talk to the batarian ambassador."

"Chancellor Noé," the director of the HSAIS spoke up."These groups are most likely backed by the Hegemony itself."

"I know."

"Diplomacy won't solve this, not in the long run," the Admiral of Navy argued.

"Action will, deploy a carrier group into the Verge days prior to the meeting."

"Is this really the right time for gunboat diplomacy?" Kadlec questioned, opposing the view of Admiral Jun.

"It's the only language the Hegemony speaks. They need to understand that we've been in the Verge for a long time. We'll not give in to their attempts of intimidating us."

"A deployment would require a vote of the parliament, we're not at war."

"Let me worry about that. Now, next issue. C-SEC trials, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Approach decorated policemen, special operations guys that are almost at the end of their terms of service and show no interest in staying in the military, maybe some of HSAIS's intelligence specialists for the investigations branch."

"Sending people who know their handiwork is important here," Kadlec added. "If our candidates make a good impression, we'll increase the odds of the Council accepting our alternative for the Treaty of Farixen."

"Speaking off, the veto only lasts for another few months, correct?"

"Yes, the veto of Councilor Ioventus will expire in June 2390 AD or in their time, 2132 CE," Kadlec answered the chancellors question. "Deployments to the Verge could have a negative impact on achieving a special status regarding the Treaty of Farixen."

"Well no one ever ran into the Council with enough dreadnoughts to actually violate it, correct?"

"Yes. The Treaty was only signed after the Krogan Rebellion in 800CE, ever since no other space faring race has made first contact with the council."

"The last first contact before us and the yahg were the drell some 130 years ago," Harper injected even though this subject wasn't his exact area of expertise. "Although they weren't space faring."

"That's a good argument then, the Treaty has never been applied to a race that's been space faring for over two centuries before making contact with the Council. Our reason for getting a different deal is the fact that we have a very different situation to begin with," Chancellor Noé spoke as he snuffed out his cigarette in the ash tray. "Unlike the drell or the elcor we got of our planet by our own actions."

"And unlike the Illuminated Primacy, the quarians or batarians we already held a lot of ground before making contact with the Council," Kadlec added.

"There's truth in that, furthermore the only race to shared our stage of militaristic development upon contact were the turians," Harper replied, a certain sense of pride in his voice.

"Goyle expects them to vote in favour of the proposal, relations between us and the Hierarchy are getting better every day," Noé replied. "The next series of joint exercises is beginning in the fall of 2390, that's good timing."

"We should still make preparations to conduct Project Chimera, if worst comes to worst," Admiral Jun commented, "If we are bound by the Treaty of Farixen, we'll have to reduce to five dreadnoughts."

"Remind me, how many Killimanjaro's are currently active?"

"Four in the navy, one with Cerberus," Admiral Jun replied.

"The Cerberus one doesn't officially exist though, meaning we could construct another one," Harper reminded him. "Though I advise against it, should it ever be spotted."

"Very well then, let's make sure that the funding for Project Chimera is secured before we even ask the Council about a little help with it. Start briefing selected construction crews on the matter, nothing final though."

"Yes, Sir."

"Anything else we need to discuss?" he questioned, no one answering.

"Yes, Sir," General Stelios spoke up, "I'd like to inform you that the SR-8x is now no longer merely a prototype, although field testing suggests that we would profit from an actual mass accelerator more. The rifle, while superior to the SR-7 in terms of range also requires more maintenance."

"Cerberus is working on something, General," Harper said. "We call it Project Valkyrie."

"A pure mass accelerator?"

"It's still in the early stages of development, it'll take a few more years to actually reach the troops, but yes. The SR-9 Valkyrie will be a conventional mass accelerator with a work-around regarding the overheating issue."

"If you don't mind me asking, what's said work-around?"

"Ejectable heat sinks."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a mass accelerator? Shooting thousands of rounds until your block is dry without reloading?" Stelios questioned, the man having been trained with the old SR-6 back in his days in the field.

"As I said, we're working on it."

"Very well then, anything else?" Noé asked, interrupting the discussion between two people who probably liked guns a bit too much.

When no one spoke up, he dismissed the room.

Only for Harper to linger.

"There is something else, Sir."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"I didn't bring it up because this matter regards one of the assignments you gave Cerberus early on, one you instructed me to keep to myself," Harper said causing Noé to recall the first time the Cerberus Initiative had been deployed.

"Parnack?" Noé said as his eyes narrowed.

"Yes, Sir."

"What happened?"

"Three weeks ago two shuttles managed to land on the surface, experimental cloaking devices shielding them from our scanners until they had already touched down."

"How many escaped?"

"One shuttle managed to survive the trip to the relay, given the size of the vessel and the size of an average yahg, it couldn't have been more than two, not counting the room potential crew members occupied."

"So two yahg escaped? That's bad but not nearly as bad as I expected though I wonder why you didn't tell me this earlier."

"I waited for a development in the case, it seemed rather random. Then Lightbringer tracked some chatter, the shuttles were sent by the Shadow Broker."

"What would he want with the yahg?"

"We don't know, not yet. Study most likely, but that's not my main concern. Our observation of Parnack has made one thing clear, the battle has left their culture with an incredible hatred for us. They've rallied under the nation on whose soil we landed and ever since then they've been 'planning their revenge' so to speak. We didn't take most of the broadcasts we picked up as a serious threat, after all they didn't have access to the galaxy-"

"But now at least one of the has. You're afraid the yahg could cause the Shadow Broker to take action against us?"

"No, the Shadow Broker isn't one to get directly involved in most matters. I'm afraid what the yahg will do now, they aren't exactly stupid. On the contrary, those bastards are cunning, that's part of what makes this case so dangerous. It could escape, it could use this as an opportunity to get into a position of power."

"A yahg with limited access to the Shadow Broker resources? Surely Lightbringer can track it, it would stand out like a sore thumb."

"That's the thing though, it doesn't. Chatter about it died a few days ago, we can still track the low priority channels in which it was mentioned but its no longer there. It vanished."

"Someone moved it up?"

"More likely than someone forgetting about it."

"Lightbringer doesn't have any clues to go on?"

"No, in fact multiple things simply vanished off the grid. There was a fifteen second blackout on every channel and after that some things were just gone."

"It's a strange theory," he said only for Harper to narrow his glare. "Keep an eye on it, inform me of any serious development," Noé sighed. This might just be nothing but Lightbringer existed for the sole reason to track down the Shadow Broker, no reason for them not to act on this more far fetched lead, after all it was still better than nothing at all. "Anything else you want to share with me Harper?"

"No, this will be all."

If Noé had been less exhausted, younger and sharper, he might have picked up on the second of hesitation before Harper's statement. But he was becoming old, the duties of running a government in times of major political shifts slowly eating away at him. Therefore he didn't pick up on the fact that there was something Harper wanted to share but couldn't.

* * *

 **2\. January 2390 AD, Elysium, Colonial Capital New Illyria**

He closed the blinds of his apartment, the last rays of orange sun light vanishing from his face before he searched for the parts of signal scrambler hidden in his apartment. He grabbed the components from within his computer, the walls, the air duct and the frame of an old picture. Then he began putting together the device that would hide his transmission. Someone wanted to talk to him, the encrypted message his assistant had received had made that much clear.

Precautions had to be made. The HSA couldn't track him. It would put everything he had worked on in jeopardy.

He hadn't gone into hiding for nearly nine years to throw it all away by being reckless.

The communicator came to life as he punched in the frequency that had been given to him by one of his contacts. When a disembodied line was the only thing that appeared as a blue hologram, he checked if he had entered the correct frequency.

He had.

"What do you want?"

"Is this the one who calls himself 'Surgeon'?" the one on the other side of the line questioned after a long pause, his tone heavily altered by a computer program. The line moved as the deep voice echoed through the apartment, the sound proof walls he had added ensuring no one would eavesdrop.

"Who wants to know?"

"We share a common foe, Surgeon," it spoke. "Your group aims to bring down the HSA, so does mine."

"Who are you?" he questioned, his own accent well hidden by his own voice distortion software.

"For now, you can simply call me a benefactor to your cause. I can get you what you need for your plans."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he wouldn't simply give away the upcoming plans to a stranger on a voice call. It could simply be a trick after all.

"You believe me to be a spy, don't you?"

"You can never be too careful with the HSA. They might be oppressors but they are rather competent at tracking the people they want to hunt down."

"You have evaded them for a long time, do you believe your methods have failed now? You're more careful than ever," the voice said as a file was sent from the other side. "Although there is still room for improvement."

He opened it up and his eyes widened as he recognized the small side street on the other side of town he used as a meeting place. He himself had turned his back towards the camera but his contact, the one who had given him this very frequency, was clearly visible.

"Your assistant was easier to track down than you, call him right now. Ask if she's fine. I am not your enemy," the voice ensured him. "I'll wait for you."

Muting the device, he dialed the number of his contact, the phone on the other end being picked up after the fourth time it rang, just as they had agreed on.

"Bit late for a courtesy call, isn't it?"

"I just wanted to ask if our date tomorrow is still happening? You said you might be busy," he replied with the code phrase.

"I always have time for you," she replied. Everything was fine.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night," he sighed.

This would be interesting.

Un-muting the communicator, he began to speak.

"What kind of assistance do you over?" he asked, trying to get a feel for his secretive 'benefactor'.

"I've studied your past operations," this was bad. He couldn't possibly be talking to someone who knew who he was, could he? "I have to say, I am impressed by the way you fought them and amused that you call yourself Surgeon nowadays. There is irony in it."

"Them being?" he questioned, ignoring the later statement.

A pause.

"The humans who opposed you," his benefactor was an alien. That much was for sure. A fellow separatist would've simply said 'the HSA', 'the oppressors' or simply 'the people who opposed you'. Only an alien would say 'humans'.

Working with this benefactor would be risky. It went against most of the things he had used to gather followers in the last few years, a loss of credibility had cost them the first uprising after all.

It also went against his personal agenda as well. He disliked aliens. They were a threat but the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

He'd use him. For now.

"Then you know how I do things, what I'll need."

"You'll need a network to wage your war and you'll need materials to create a new masterpiece."

"You already know my plans?" he questioned the voice. This may either be a gamble or the benefactor knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Fragments of it. As I've said, I've studied the way you work, I can help you improve it."

"How?"

"Your foe has adapted to your tactics, they've used your past actions to created counter measures, security systems."

"And you can help me obtain the things I need to get around them? Deliver me the things I need to strike again?"

"Yes."

"Most of said things are military hardware in high security facilities. How are you going to get me the things I need?"

"I will contact your assistant again once the situation allows it, until then remain passive," the voice didn't answer the question at all. Still there was an authoritarian tone behind that statement.

"Why exactly should I take orders from you?"

"It wasn't an order, it was a request," it corrected itself, sounding almost offended that he didn't accept its 'request'. This benefactor liked being in charge.

"I'll keep the smaller operation going, this is bigger than me after all," he defied him again.

"It is your decision," the voice sounded almost angry, the heavy distortion disguising it. "Have a good night, Surgeon."

Either the benefactor possessed a clock with Elysium's standard time or he was being observed. The conversation led him to believe the later.

Dialing in another number, he contacted one of the few people who knew he was still alive, the other person also waiting the agreed four rings before answering.

"Good morning," the person on the other line greeted him.

"Evening actually," he corrected his contact.

"Whatever. Why are you calling me?"

"Are you busy right now?" he asked, the question a half truth. It was their code phrase for clarifying if they could talk in secrecy, if their counter measures were in place.

"I'm free to talk," this was good.

"I just got a call from someone who wants to help our cause," he began to explain his recent conversation. "A benefactor, most likely an alien one."

"We don't work with their kind. It would kill our credibility with the people we recruited after the mercenary attacks."

"He offered to help me with another masterpiece," he explained. "Another masterpiece would give our cause the strength it requires right now."

"I told you to stop working on that. Do you know how much propaganda I had to spread in the last few years to get people to overlook your actions? There's a reason they called you the 'Butcher of Elysium'. It's not exactly a title that draws in new recruits."

"I did the right thing, my way of doing things worked. Elysium was not the root of our defeat."

"It 'worked' after years of guerilla warfare and still caused half your forces to desert you. It was a complete failure, otherwise you wouldn't have been shot by your own men."

"Traitors that I'll hunt down eventually," he commented angrily as he touched the scar at the side of his head where his most trusted subordinate had shot him after the deployment of his masterpiece. The round hadn't been strong enough to kill him, he had refused to die. There were still things he needed to do in this life.

"If you blow up a colonial capital right now and take the credit for it, you'll blow up our cause along the way. The Fringe Wars should've taught you that."

"It depends on which capital I blow up," he chuckled.

"What are you suggesting?" the voice on the other line questioned.

"We hit a core world, they reap the benefits of the HSA's oppression of the Fringe. If we deal a crippling blow to worlds like Arcadia or Terra Nova, new recruits and worlds will flock to our cause just like they did here on Elysium after the initial Separatist Seven rose up. Show them that the tyrant can bleed and they will summon the courage to join our fights against him."

"And this benefactor can get you the things you require to do so?"

"He said he'd contact me again but I believe he can," the man replied. "I also believe that the benefactor has people observing me."

"And you decide to contact me?" the other voice stated in disbelief. "Reckless fool."

"Calm down, I am in the clear right now. I just know that he had eyes on me during a meeting with my assistant."

"Mind your actions," the other voice declared angrily. "You might be important to our cause but if your actions threaten it, I'll finish what your comrades started. Personally."

"I mind my actions more carefully than you ever could, its why most people think I am dead," he spat back. "You should mind your words, I am the face of this movement. You're a nobody."

"I am a nobody because I am good at my job. Report any further developments," the voice said before he shut down the communicator. "and don't you ever threaten me again."

He disassembled the device and hid its components again before pulling out a sheet of paper, a favoured method of communication back in the Fringe Wars.

After all, you couldn't hack a note written with a pencil.

Andrej Kamarov looked at the device that had earned him his infamous nickname, 'The Butcher of Elysium' and chuckled as his fingers retraced the wiring drawn on the blueprint.

His masterpiece. They were still trying to undo his handiwork with their machines, a process costing them up to today. A masterfully executed blow against them that was still making them bleed almost nine years later.

Detonated on 27.3.2381, the bomb had caused Illyria to be abandoned, a new capital being constructed after his cobalt isotope had ruined the soil of the HSA's biggest sign of oppression, the steel and glass towers still visible over the mountain range right outside the window facing his bed. An artist liked to admire his work after all. He didn't need all the attention it had gotten him, he just needed to see his work and from his apartment he could do just that every day he woke up.

This bomb had caused the reason the original IFS leadership had cut their ties with him, it hadn't been the murders, the torture or the attacks on hospitals. It had been the treason of his 'allies' after the fallout, their sudden decision that the most effective attack up to now had crossed a line.

It had been his masterpiece that had gotten him kicked out of the leadership meeting on Shanxi.

It had been the reason he wasn't there when the fools died.

His masterpiece had saved his life and now he could create another, deal another blow to the HSA. Admire his work once more.

Rolling the blueprint together, he couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of getting to work.

He hoped the benefactor turned out to be the real deal.

* * *

 _Codex: Elysium War (Part of Entry Series 'Fringe Wars')_

 _Elyisum, one of the most populated world in the Fringe, joined the Separatist Seven movement after the initial uprisings proved that the HSA could be defeated._

 _Early conventional operations by IFS militias were quickly crushed by prepared local HSA forces, the underequipped separatist forces not capable of dealing with the well-trained and motivated soldiers of Elysium's Colonial Watch._

 _Surviving early defeats, the militia man, amateur artist and employed chemist Andrej Kamarov quickly rose through the ranks of the IFS until being promoted to the commander of all IFS forces on Elysium for his asymmetrical tactics and expertise in creating explosive devices with which he could damage the HSA forces on Elysium._

 _An educated man, Kamarov quickly ordered his forces to lay down any formal uniforms, create local cells and blend in with the normal population in order to avoid conventional engagements which he knew he'd lose in the long run due to Elysium being one of the major strongholds of the HSA forces in the Fringe besides Bekenstein and cut of from heavier IFS support._

 _His strategy paid of from a purely militaristic perspective as his forces managed to deal asymetrical strikes against the infrastructure and morale of the HSA forces on Elysium in the years 2378 and 2379 but in doing so, caused large amounts of civilian casualties, turning the population against Kamarov's IFS movement._

 _In 2380, his forces increased their brutality even more by employing two stage bombings, first attacking crowds and then attacking the hospitals they were sent to be treated in. These actions were justified by Kamarov viewing everyone that didn't join his forces as traitors to the cause. Anyone who didn't actively support him, in his eyes, supported the HSA and deserved the treatment as any of his foes, death._

 _A wanted war criminal, the separatist leader survived three assassination attempts but also draw the ire of the IFS leadership who disliked his methods and brutality against civilian populations on contested worlds due to his actions pushing them into the hands of their foes, the HSA. Tensions peaked after the bombing of Illyria on 27.3.2381, resulting in the IFS declaring Kamarov a rogue commander. The bomb detonated, poisoning the air and ground of the city due to its radioactive nature and the cobalt isotope included in it._

 _Hostilities ended after the infighting of the IFS leadership on Shanxi caused the movement to collapse in on itself, Kamarov evading death at the hands of his former comrades and vanishing in the chaos of the early days after the war. However it is believed that Kamarov was murdered by his own deserters after the bombing, his followers turning away from his as he incinerated friend and foe alike with his device._

 _Kamarov, alongside the unknown commander of IFS Naval Forces, is the only IFS leader to remain unaccounted for. Because of this, post-Fringe Wars propaganda began to revision his actions with the aim to give the separatist movement a figure head to rally behind. This actions have had little success on most worlds, only Shanxi and ironically Elysium showing shades of success due to the degree of martial law placed on them after the Fringe Wars._

* * *

 **A/N: So chapter 17 is here, somewhat delayed because well I told you.**

 **Let me know what you think, right now we're at 119 reviews, 283 favorites and 349 follows. Going strong guys.**

 **This chapter sets up the next major story point, I hope you like it. Bit of a rushed A/N but I really gotta go somewhere right now.**

 **See you around next time.**


	18. Cobalt-60

**Chapter 18. Cobalt-60**

* * *

 **26\. February 2390 AD, Orbit around Elysium**

"Overwrite complete, you're clear to go boarding party. Over."

"Copy that, beginning exploration of the vessel. Over."

The holding clamps on the airlock tightened themselves with an audible noise and the door on the other side, visible through the small window of the frigate's own airlock, hissed open, connecting the freighter that had failed to respond to hails to the HSASV Agincourt.

Originally the vessel had drawn the frigate's attention due to slowly drifting towards the Battlegroup Hawking, currently refuling over Elysium. Its assignment of showing naval presence in the Skyllian Verge had made Elysium the logistical hub of the fleet.

A fleet civilian ships weren't supposed to come to close to.

"Alright, watch your spacing, check your corners and don't just start firing. Chances are their communication gear is simply broken," the now Sergeant Francis Hackett reminded his unit as they walked through the airlock towards the freighter.

"I've seen this kind of movie before," one of his marines, Gerrad, commented. "and it wasn't faulty communication gear."

"You're not gonna get eaten by space spiders," another chuckled as Francis set foot into the dark freighter, the night vision gear in his HUD allowing him to stare down the empty corridors.

"Where the hell is everyone?" he asked as his unit started to walk through the corridors.

"Lights up ahead," one pointed out.

"Alright, advance slowly. Gerrad, cover the rear."

The unit, following the training they had received for boarding action, walked past closed doors, slowing their pace as they closed in on the sole room that showed any sign of being inhabited.

"Three," Francis began to count down, his voice carried to his comrades through the unit's squad intercom.

"Two," he spoke as he prepared himself to twist around the corner.

"One," he raised his rifle.

"Go."

Spinning into the open room, he looked at an empty kitchen area, plates of foot still placed on the table and a still half full glass of juice sitting on the table.

"Looks fresh," one observed. "Still hot as well," Francis noted the steam coming from the heated meal.

"Agincourt, there's no sign of the crew itself but we've go reason to believe that they were just here," he informed the frigate. "I'm suspecting smugglers, scan for smaller vessels. Did anyone leave this ship, over."

After a small break the female voice of his Lieutenant replied. "Negative boarding party. No such activity. You're not alone over there. I'm preparing a second team, continue investigation. Over and out."

"You heard the lady, let's push for the bridge, turn the power back on."

Hackett made a move to get out of the kitchen area only to throw himself back on pure instinct, the blue light of mass accelerator fire illuminating the dark corridor of the freighter mere moments later.

"Ambush!" he declared as the cracking of small, deadly rounds tearing through the artificial atmosphere drowned out his own voice.

"Shit, we're boxed in," one marine declared.

"Get me a flash bang," Hackett ordered and the small object was handed to him. He removed the pin and threw it into the general direction that the shots were coming from, his self preservation instinct keeping him from peaking outside.

While the deployment in the Verge had put his unit high on the list of receiving the new shielding technology, his team had not yet been equipped with them, their priority as a frigate detachment far outweighed by the priority of N7, ASOC, HSAIS and the troops stationed on assault carriers.

Right about now he was starting to doubt that particular order of priorities.

The familiar sound of a detonation was predated by the bright flash of the grenades explosion and without even giving the order, his unit began to advance across the mostly coverless corridor, dishing out suppressive fire at the enemy to keep their heads down and in turn keep them from firing at the exposed unit.

"Reloading!" Francis shouted, causing the next man to began suppressing, a steady stream of lead, including the sporadic tracer round, pouring down the corridor and changing the formerly blue illumination into orange.

"Reloading!" a marine called, causing another to keep up the suppressive fire right until the unit was at the corner from which they had been fired at. Francis, being the first in line, spun around it and found nothing but emptiness.

The silence that followed after this discovery didn't last long as he spotted a figure moving in the darkness, the green outlining of his night vision gear making one thing rather clear before the figure vanished around a corner.

The person was carrying an assault rifle. More precisely an old salarian mass accelerator.

One commonly found alongside IFS cells ever since Eclipse had armed them.

This wasn't just a bunch of smugglers, these were separatists.

"Agincourt, this is boarding party. Be advised, we're engaging a foe carrying mass accelerator weaponry, possible IFS presence. Over."

"Acknowledged boarding party, another squad has just deployed to the freigther, they'll secure the engine room. Over and out."

Francis motioned for his unit to follow him, pointing into the direction the figure had went into, "That's where the bridge is. Move up, marines. We can't allow him to start the FTL drive. The other squad might not make it to the engine room in time."

Had they known that the freighter was not simply having a communication problem, they would've dispatched a unit earlier. The order had been a simple investigation, not an entire lockdown of the vessel.

That order might cost them now.

"I thought our VI overwrote the systems of the ship?" a marine questioned as he walked past an open door leading to an empty storage room, his rifle none the less scanning it as he passed it.

"It did, we still can't risk it," Francis explained as his feet carried him towards the darkness, towards the bridge.

"A hard reset of the systems would throw the Agincourt's VI right out," the squad's engineer explained. "Can't stay connected if there's nothing to connect to."

The door leading towards the bridge came into few as they spun around the corner the figure had disappeared behind, the blast door firmly shut.

"Specialist, get to work," Francis ordered as the man who had just explained why they'd have to prevent anyone from messing with the freighters computers. The engineer got to work, removing a panel from the side of the door and exposing wiring.

This would've been easier if boarding parties had the same kind of priority in regards of omni-tools like special forces.

"No point in dwelling on it right now, focus on the task at hand," a voice that sounded strangely like his older brother warned him and doing so just in time to spot another figure creeping up on one of his men.

"Get down!" he called as he tackled the man standing between him and the figure all the while drawing his sidearm. The fall probably hurt the marine, judging by his grunting upon impacting the ground, but as Hackett saw an almost invisible figure jump back through the use of biotic powers, the fast movement causing barely visible ripples to appear in the air , he was convinced that this was the better option. A biotic punch could do all kinds of damage after all.

The bullets left his SIS-8 as the cloaked assailant withdrew into the shadows he had just appeared from, barriers and Hackett's horrible aim while falling allowing him to escape.

"We got cloaked enemies," he informed everyone linked to his intercom. "Tanner, how's the door looking?" he questioned as he tried to spot the sword carrying foe again.

"Should have it open any minute," the engineer said as he finished connecting two wires, causing the door to open in a hiss, "now."

"Two with me, Corporal you and the rest guard the entrance," the sergeant ordered. Then Hackett entered the freighter's bridge and spotted a man hunched over the console, typing in commands and seemingly ignoring the fact that several rifles were pointed at him. He didn't even feel the need to grab the assault rifle leaned against the terminal he currently manned.

"Step away from the console!" Francis ordered, only to be ignored. "Cover me," he ordered as he let his SR-7 down and grabbed a hold of the man that had just fired at him, throwing him to the ground and restraining him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You can count yourself lucky I didn't shoot you in the back."

"Go to hell," the man simply chuckled.

"Specialist, what was he doing?"

"Deleting the flight log and scrambling some numbers," the engineer stated surprised. "He didn't even touch the drive. Didn't attempt to lock out our VI either."

Gunfire form the outside drew Hackett's attention away from the engineer and towards his unit, a scream echoing through the

"Report," he ordered as he lifted he considered rushing out.

"Clipped the invisible guy before he got away. Got a look at him when his camo failed. He sure as hell doesn't look like an iffy though," the corporal replied. "Ulrich took a sword to the arm, he's gonna need some medical attention in the long run."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well for starters he's a lizard. A biotic lizard."

"A salarian?"

"Nah, the other lizards," Corporal Boman replied. "The sneaky ones."

"Agincourt, there's at least one hostile drell running free on this freighter. He's armed with a sword and we've got one injured marine. Over."

"Since when do the iffys have drell on their payroll?" the engineer asked as he locked down the console.

"They don't," Hackett replied. "Whoever is on this ship, they aren't separatists. Turn on the power, then rally on me," he ordered as he handcuffed his captive and threw him into one of the chairs.

His order was soon realised as the lights of the freighter once more turned on, his night vision gear turning of as his HUD reacted to the sudden brightness.

Then he noticed the blood that was spattered on the ground behind the console array. Alien blood.

"What the hell happened here?" he questioned the man, who he was now certain wasn't aligned with the IFS.

"As I've said, go to hell," the captive smiled.

"I got no time for your stupid games," Hackett sighted. "Agincourt, we've got a prisoner. I'll sent him to the airlock. Over."

"Boarding party be advised, the squad sent to the engine room just went dark, no call for help, nothing. They are just gone. Over."

"Copy that Agincourt, I'll look into it. Over and out," Hackett replied as he looked at his engineer. "Get me eyes on the engine room."

The man jogged over to another console, typing command after command only for a red light to start flashing on the screen. "Security cameras are scrambled, I got nothing."

"Shit. Alright. Private Feng, you'll stay with the specialist and Ulrich," Hackett ordered one of his marines back from the door, Ulrich right behind her, the arm of the marine covered in blood from a wound now sealed by Medigel. The sword had cut straight through his armor and sliced deep into his arm. He was good for now but he'd start to feel the loss of blood sooner than later. However Hackett also noted the remains of Ulrich's SR-7, a clean cut having severed it into two pieces.

Interesting.

"Tenner, lock the door and prepare to to close of sections of the ship," Hackett switched his radio to once more connect with the Agincourt. "We've got no eyes on the engine room from here. I'm going to head down there myself. My engineer has the bridge, if I go dark as well, contact him. Over."

"Understood boarding party. Sergeant, those were nine marines in that engine room. Don't take any risks," his lieutenant advised him, the worry evident in her voice. Not knowing what happened to her men was bad, especially since they had most likely walked into an ambush. An ambush she had ordered them to walk into.

Walking out of the bridge he looked at the five marines that would accompany him. "Gerrad, you got the back again. Corporal Boman, you're in the center with the doc. The rest, diamond formation. I'll take point."

A chorus of five 'Yes, sir' followed Hackett's order and he began to walk through the now bright corridors, his weapon facing forward and looking for the slightest shimmer, a typical give away of active camouflage.

He found no such thing.

"Why did it have to be an invisible swordsman?"

"Missing the space spiders right about now, Gerrad?"

"You bet I am," the marine replied as he walked backwards, facing the parts of the corridor the squad had already passed by.

Hackett took a sharp left turn, the stairway leading down towards the engine room now in front of him. He began to walk down, the metallic sound of his boots hitting each stair sure to give him away. It couldn't be avoided right now. If there were injured, he couldn't waste the time to reduce the sound each of his steps made. This was most likely an ambush anyway.

"Get your game faces on people, this is it," the sergeant said as he stopped in front of the engine room, its door closed but not locked. He pressed his rifle into his shoulder and opened the door.

The sight of injured people was something he had gotten used to, he halfway expected to look at an even uglier picture to be honest. The sight of nine marines in various state of health was not what put him off.

It was the absolute lack of blood,the amount of broken arms and the completely trashed interior of the engine room that put him off.

"What the fuc-" Boman began as both the naval corpsman and he himself moved to the first casualty. However he was swiftly interrupted when Hackett caught a flicker in the corner of his eye.

"Contact left!" he shouted as he spun to the side, the single round he managed to fire with certainty jumping through the engine room at supersonic speeds and completely missing what he had assumed to be drell's position who had simply disappeared as fast as he had appeared.

The doubt of whether or not he had simply allowed paranoia to get the better of him didn't even have time to surface.

The figure, or rather a flicker of light, cartwheeled back into sight and Hackett managed to see the little purple ripples of biotic power just in time to avoid the shift in gravity that caught the majority of his squad behind him completely unprepared. Only his forward leap saved him from floating. Trying to realignhis sights with the target, Francis barely managed to track the fast moving drell as he began to run towards the exit of the engine bay, only Gerrad still blocking his path.

The marine, not caught in the singularity of biotic power, tried to stop the drell by swinging his weapon like a club, the momentum of the movement further increasing the force his muscles put behind the blow. The swing was sure to stop the drell should it hit.

Should it.

The SR-7 failed to connect its blow as the figure went incredibly low, incredibly fast. Now sliding across the floor of the freighter he pulled Gerrad's legs from under him and caused the marine to fall face first to the ground. The drell had secured his escape by taking out an opponent without even stopping.

"Agincourt, we got at least ten injured marines, no KIAs," Hackett informed his commanding officer as he began his pursuit.

"Gerrad, pick yourself up and follow me," he ordered as he began to dash after the figure, leaving the engine room just as he heard the singularity release his comrades, the 'pissed of but still alive' comment of Corporal Boman assuring him that they'd be fine for now just as Gerrad fell in behind him.

"This is a terrible idea," the man complained as Hackett focused on keeping the small flickers that betrayed the drell's path in sight. His task was made somewhat easier by the fact that the fast movement caused the camouflage to somewhat lose its effect, the flickers way more noticeable then before.

"I think that guy is the only way we'll get any answers," Hackett replied between his breaths, the drell's naturally faster pace allowing him to increase the distance between the two marines and himself all the while. "Besides something tells me he isn't with the other guy."

"The fucker got the engine room team good," Gerrad countered, sounding sceptical as they ran up the stairs. "He ain't exactly with us either."

"He didn't kill us," Hackett argued.

"Very reassuring Sarge."

"That's my job."

The two marines tried to keep up but Hackett knew they wouldn't be able to catch the drell, he was simply to fast for that.

Time to cheat.

"Tanner, shut the doorway to the escape pods," Hackett called, the red lights of the blast door just ahead closing rapidly increasing his chance of catching the drell with every centimeter it came closer to being sealed.

Then the drell once more outplayed him, a last second leap through the use of biotic powers allowing him to fit through the corridor just as the grey steel door separated the two marines from him.

"Shit," Gerrad simply commented, the force of an escape pod being launched traveling through the freighter. Then another and another.

"Agincourt can you disable the escape pods that just fired?" Hackett questioned.

"We'd most likely kill the individuals inside," the voice of the frigate's captain, not his marine lieutenant, replied."Shooting down escape pods violates military law, Sergeant."

"That guy is the only person that knows what happened here," Hackett countered. "We can't let him get away!"

"We don't even know in which on he's in, there's no poi-"

"Agincourt repeat your last," Hackett spoke.

Nothing.

"Agincourt come in."

"-ker. An unknown vessel just blitzed our systems. We can't pursue. Over."

Hackett looked at Gerrad only to receive an unknowing shrug.

"Sorry Sir, I don't follow. Over."

"Your drell had some buddies, a corvette sized vessel dropped out of nowhere and went after the low-priorities of our cyber security before picking up one of the pods. Then they jumped into FTL, they're gone. Get your asses back to the Agincourt, I want a full report on what exactly just happened. Over."

"Trying to figure that out myself right about now, Sir," Hackett sighted.

He did not look forward to that particular report.

* * *

 **3\. March 2390 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy**

"What exactly am I looking at Director?" Alec questioned.

"Data recovered during a raid on an unresponsive freighter," something about her tone was off.

"There's hardly anything here Ma'am. What am I supposed to do with this?"

"A few days ago a freighter with most of its crew dead was found drifting towards the Hawking and its escorts above Elysium, after boarding the marine squad encountered a lone survivor of the crew and a drell. The drell evaded capture and the sole survivor hasn't reacted to any of our interrogation techniques."

"That's a strange case," Alec commented, "but where does Section 13 fit into this picture?"

"Aboard the freighter, a stolen hanar trade vessel, we recovered corpses of multiple species. All killed through biotics or a sword, the drell's doing," the Director explained with the same emotional undertone. "But what the freighter carried is what peaked Section 13's interest."

The pause was followed by a file being transferred. Alec opened it and the screen displayed a picture of a crate that had been opened by one of the recovery teams, its hanar origin betrayed by the writing still visible on its side.

"Cobalt-60," he spoke. "Being smuggled to Elysium. That's one thing I hoped to never hear again."

"Judging by your reaction you know what I'm about to say, don't you?" the director of Section 13 asked him bitterly.

"Kamarov is alive and he's got allies. People outside of the IFS if the mixed crew is anything to go by," Alec Shepard said as the memory of a nuclear mushroom forming over Illyria resurfaced, his radio connection to Jon Grissom being replaced by static at the moment of the detonation. The man had spent the last seconds of his life trying to get to the nuclear bomb hidden inside an ambulance, his curses still carved into Alec's memory.

It had been a dark day for Section 13, one of its senior specialists dying alongside millions of Illyria's innocent inhabitants.

However it had been an even darker day for the Widow Maker who had been in charge of hunting down the Butcher of Elysium, only a false lead preventing her from being incinerated alongside him, her suggestion of splitting up to cover more ground the sole reason she had survived the blast.

Alec knew he would still blame himself if his partner during the Fringe Wars, Redford, had died due to one of his calls. Survivor's guilt was basically guaranteed after such a situation.

"That's the assumption right about now," she replied.

"How did the bastard survive being shot in the face?" Alec asked. After Kamarov had met his supposed demise at the hands of his own right hand, the HSA had listed him as missing and presumed dead.

No one should have been able to recover from such a hit after all.

"A twisted joke of a higher power?" the director somewhat joked.

"Terrible sense of humor," Alec replied. "What does the Illuminated Primacy say about the drell?"

"Officially they have no idea what we are talking about." she mockingly replied. "They suggested that others employ drell for their skills as well. My guess is that this isn't the first ship that went missing so they sent one of their assassins to investigate who was stealing from them."

"What are the chances of tracking this guy down?"

"Slim to none, the drell live secluded on Kahje and the one we're looking for would never reveal himself to us."

"So that's not our angle then," Alec sighted. He needed some place to start. "Anything regarding the crew?"

"That's where you come in actually," the director replied.

"And here I thought you were just calling me personally because I was one of your favourites," he had already been waiting for her to tell him what to do.

"A turian had a card on her from a club in the Lower Wards," the director replied, this time not giving in to his humor at first. "Chora's Den. I'm sure you're familiar with the place. It's a strip club."

"I'm a married man Director," Alec countered, the jab he had waited for appearing later than expected. "I've heard some marines talk about it, never been inside though. The Lower Wards aren't exactly near the embassy either. What do you want me to do down there?" he questioned.

"We've got her omni-tool and the name she used when she was there," the director explained. "I'll transfer the data to you and you'll see what you can find."

"Will do Ma'am."

"And Alec?"

"Yes Ma'am?"

"At least try to keep a low profile," the director chuckled. "Unlike on Illium."

"That was all on Redford."

* * *

 **Two hours later, Lower Wards**

After having told Goyle he'd have to take care of something outside of the embassy, he had spent some time looking over the data and taken the rapid transit, shuttle service using the X3M 'skycar' to move people around the Citadel, to the Lower Words, civilian attire replacing his usual dress uniform.

His clothing, fitting not nearly as tight as the grey HSAIS uniform, would've easily disguised a SIS-8 inside a waistband holster but after remembering the conversation some grunts had about the krogan bouncer, he had decided to go for a small knife, precisely one of the small ceramic blades Redford had given him as a wedding present.

It was easier to hide inside the brown leather jacket anyway.

As he walked through the Lower Markets Alec once more realised just how little he had seen of the Citadel and just how populated it was. This place was a far cry from the Presidium, the ugly side of the Citadel that no one liked to talk about. It was crowded, noisy, dirty and dangerous. Alec had already spotted heavily armed C-SEC patrols walking the premise.

It felt more real to him than the peaceful, clean presidium ever had.

Making his way through a crowd of all kinds of aliens, the sporadic human standing out because of their hair, Alec could already see the path that would lead him to Chora's Den. He took care not to bump into anyone and blend into the crowd, after all he was supposed to try and keep a low profile.

He took a turn and could already see a blue asari sign stuck to the wall in front of the club, a row of people waiting in front of it as music from the inside was audible through the open door, a krogan standing in front of it and pointing into the direction Alec had just come from, the disappointed sights of a mixed group betraying the fact that they had been refused access.

Getting in line, the scent of recycled air mixed with alcoholic beverages not exactly pleasant, Alec went over his plan again. He'd get into the club, ask the bartender about the name the turian had transferred money to and ask to talk to them. Whoever this 'Alihia T'esria' was, she was his only clue for the moment.

The line kept moving forward and the group in front of him,consisting of one hanar and five asari, now stood in front of the krogan bouncer, his plates a shade of green and his skin a light brown.

"How much did you pay them?" the krogan chuckled as he looked at the jellyfish like creature.

"This one does not need to buy company," the hanar replied, the weird echoing that accompanied their speech travelling towards Alec. "This one simply wishes to enjoy an evening with his friends."

"I'm afraid we're full on hanar today," the krogan stated. "Your friends can come in if they want."

"Are you not aware who this one is?" the hanar replied, sounding almost offended as it lifted one of his tentacles and pointed at the krogan.

"You hanar all look and sound alike, so no. Can't say I do," the krogan countered as he shoved the appendage aside. "You're not getting in here today. Sorry."

"You will regret turning this one away once it achieves its breakthrough."

"You staying with this loser or are you coming in ladies?" the krogan asked as he nodded at the asari.

Alec didn't really expect all five of them to make a disgusted face and turn around to leave with the hanar. Apparently they really were friends.

"Whatever," the krogan sighted as Alec moved up. "You look like trouble," he noted.

"Excuse me?"

"The scars, you don't get those by not being trouble," the toad-like creature observed.

"Relics of the past," Alec argued. "I won't trash your place, pinky promise."

"Pinky what?" the krogan asked.

"It's an idiom, it means you-" he tried to explain but realised that the three-fingered krogan wouldn't understand it. "Never mind."

"You're not drunk, you're not on drugs, you're alone and you're human," the bouncer observed. "I don't like that combination."

"How come?" Alec asked. Playing nice with bouncers usually worked.

"Last time I let a single human guy like you in, he beat up a batarian merc and his asari girlfriend lifted me into the air before leaving," the krogan described. "I floated around the dance floor for three minutes. Had to switch jobs after that, no one on Illium took me serious anymore. I still hear their laughter in my sleep," he confessed before snapping back to the present. "So I'm a little cautious since then."

Years of training and experience with being a spy were the only thing keeping Alec from bursting out in laughter. What were the chances?

"Well I've got no intentions of beating up a batarian and I don't have an asari girlfriend either, give me the benefit of doubt?" Alec replied, trying to sound as earnest as he could. He meant it, he didn't look for trouble.

"Don't make me regret this," the krogan said as he stepped aside.

Alec stepped inside the club, the big circular bar in front of a equally circular catwalk with asari dancers the first thing he noticed.

The club was not nearly as dirty as he expected it to be and the dancers were almost exclusively asari, a salarian bartender striking him as the best source of information right about now. Walking up to the bar, the red colored salarian didn't notice him at first since he was busy serving a bunch of turians who looked like they were trying to make the most out of their shore leave, their uniforms making them stand out among the other people inhabiting Chora's Den right about now.

Knocking on the bar, he drew the attention of the salarian who walked over to him all the while drying a glass with a piece of cloth.

"What can I get you?"

"I'm looking for someone actually," Alec said. "Does the name 'Alihia T'esria' mean anything to you?"

"She's a dancer," the bartender replied as he set down the glass. "She doesn't do private shows for strangers so I'll save you the time."

"I just need to talk to her really," Alec said as he raised his hands in defense.

"If she's talking, she's not dancing," the salarian replied. "I doubt she's interested in having a chat."

"It won't take long, just point me at her and let me worry about the rest," the specialist argued.

"Well it's not my time that gets wasted," the salarian said as he pointed at a purple asari with light-blue facial tattoos currently dancing in front of a table with another asari watching her, "that's her. Don't get your hopes up, she's here to earn money after all."

"Thanks," Alec said before striding through the club, already observing the surroundings of the table, just in case.

In the booth left to it a quarian and turian were busy viewing some sort of show, apparently uninterested in the dancer in front of them. The booth on the right however sported a rather dangerously looking krogan, his orange head plate cracked in the middle and several scars running down his right eye.

He might turn into a problem.

"Alihia T'esria?" Alec called, his voice managing to sound clear through the loud music.

The asari turned her head to look at him and after realising she didn't know him, she turned back to the other asari currently enjoying the view.

"There's something we have to talk about," Alec said not giving in to her attempts of ignoring him and bringing up his omni-tool and reading the name of the turian who's data led him here. "It's about Solaria Styx."

For some reason that particular name got her attention, causing her to once more turn to him.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," she stated while performing a set of motion Alec was sure would result in a broken back should he attempt it.

"You are the last person we are aware of to have seen her alive," Alec simply countered, causing her to stop what she was doing, much to the disappointment of the other asari who turned to glare at the source of interruption.

"Sol's dead?" the dancer questioned, her expression surprised but not exactly very emotional.

"She was found dead on board of a freighter," it was technically true, he simply left out some details. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"You don't look like a cop. How is this your business?"

"Private investigator," Alec lied. "The shipping company hired me to look into the case," always keep it simple and believable.

"Is this going to take long?" the asari costumer asked sounding somewhat disappointed causing the dancer to look down at her and then back to Alec.

"You're probably better off looking for another table Ma'am."

"Goddess you humans ruin everything," the costumer sighted before standing up.

"What do you want to know?" the asari asked as she got of the table.

"Is there some place private we can talk?" Alec replied.

"Is this some setup to get me alone?" the asari countered with supiscion in her voice looking back at the costumer. "If it is, you just cost me a small fortune."

"No it's not. I've got pictures of Solaria right here if you want proof although they are rather graphic," that seemed to do the trick, the distrust on her face vanishing.

"There's a room for private dances, it should be free right now," Alihia explained. "That's as private as it's going to get in Chora's Den."

"Lead the way," Alec answered before following the asari, passing the salarian bartender in the process who simply stared at him in disbelief.

They walked through a small corridor, a series of rooms marked with a sign his translator implant read as 'private' and the asari opened one door to a room that certainly looked like it was meant for not just dancing. After they entered, she sealed the door, the orange hologram in front of its lock displaying the fact that the magnetic locks were now joined together.

"Well, I don't have all day," Alihia said as she set down on the red couch.

"How do you know Solaria Styx?"

"She came by regularly ever since last year," the dancer replied, "although I know for a fact that Sol never gave me her real name."

"How come?" Alec questioned. Of course he suspected it to be a fake name but he was rather interested in how the dancer had picked up on it.

"She picked up a call on her omni during a private session a couple of weeks ago."

"Do you recall what name she used back then?"

"Itari Zikrian," the asari replied. "I only remember it because it's a rather uncommon name with turians."

"Do you recall what they talked about?"

"It wasn't a talk really, she was simply saying yes or no to the person on the other line," so she was receiving orders back then.

"Was this the last time you saw her?" Alec asked as he typed down the name and the detail he had just learned.

"No that was seven days ago. She said she'd not be on the Citadel for a few days, told me that I could clear her usual hours for other costumers."

"Did she happen to mention where she was going?"

"She did not, we were occupied in other ways shortly afterwards," Alihia chuckled. "Although she did say something about visiting Hartan."

That name rang a bell, he had read that somewhere before. A low-priority security report about the Lower Wards.

"Hartan?"

"An elcor who hires security workers."

"So Itari was a mercenary?" Alec asked. It made sense, some unknown ally hiring a bunch of expendable mercs to hide their trail in case something went wrong.

"She preferred the term private contractor," the dancer corrected. "But yes, Sol was a merc."

"Where do I find this Hartan? Does he have an office or anything like that?"

"He doesn't live very far from here. If he's on the Citadel, he's in his apartment."

"Can you give me the address?"

"You're incredibly nosy, even for a private investigator," the asari observed as her omni-tool came to life.

"Well I take my work very seriously," Alec chuckled. "Besides, I get paid extra for solid leads."

"I'm doing this because Sol deserves some justice, she always tipped me good. If anyone asks, you didn't get it from me."

"Thank you Ms. T'esria, this will go a long way."

"Don't thank me yet, Hartan isn't exactly pleasant company," the dancer chuckled. "On your way out of here, pretend I gave you the show of a life time. It's good for business," she suggested before unlocking the door, the music from the outside once more flooding Alec's sense of hearing.

Alec walked out of the more private area of the club and made his way to the door. He passed by the bar again and smiled at the salarian, trying to look as satisfied as possible in the process. The bartender was once more perplexed by him. Going through the last few meters of crowd he finally reached the exit and found the krogan looking at him.

"You didn't trash the place," the bouncer observed.

"You sound surprised. I did say pinky promise," Alec replied nonchalantly

"The last human said he wouldn't cause any trouble either. Look how that turned out." the krogan said as he scratched his green head plate. "Tall guy, yellow fur. If you ever see him, tell him I'll kick him in the quad if his asari girlfriend isn't around to save him."

"Carrying a grudge isn't healthy," Alec replied. "But should I ever find this stranger, I'll let him know."

"You're alright human," the krogan chuckled.

Alec walked away with the adress of Hartan in his omni-tool that would eventually lead him to a place that would give him more answers. For now he had to report back to the director. He waved at the krogan and passed the crowd of people waiting to get into Chora's Den. Then, once he was certain the krogan wouldn't hear him, he began to laugh like an idiot.

Sometimes the universe had a fantastic sense of humor as well.

* * *

 **2131 CE, Arcturus Station**

The humans had given her a place to stay on the condition that she'd share her experience with working for the Shadow Broker should the task force dedicated to him ever have use for it and help them with questions regarding biotics.

She just waited for the day they'd ask her to train human biotics. She had done some research on Eezo spills to confirm her suspicion. If humans were anything like turians or batarians, both species sharing similar life spans with her hosts, the first human biotics should manifest their powers sooner than later.

The apartment was located closely to the security hub of the station, she knew for a fact that this wasn't a coincidence. Neither were the semi-regular visits of Redford. They had a predictable pattern after all. She knew they were keeping tabs on her, they'd be stupid not to. But since Tela could hardly go back to her life on the Citadel or Illium, she wouldn't complain about it. All things considered the time since Tevos's trial had been rather pleasant although she was growing rather tired of the routine she had settled into, a routine Redford had sometimes broken by requesting her aid with something related to either the Shadow Broker or Biotics.

The knocking on her door, others simply using the doorbell, was the first give away it was him. This one didn't fit the pattern, he shouldn't have been here for another few days. She kept down her excitement at the prospect of actually getting to do something else until she was sure there would be something to do.

She opened the door to find the blonde human standing in front of her, his brown eyes looking down at her with a mixture of joy and focus.

"I did not expect you," she stated as he stepped inside. "What happened?"

"I can't just visit you without a reason? Come on Tela. Nothing connects people like a galactic conspiracy. We are basically family by now," he joked.

"You're terrible at playing innocent, you know that don't you?" she chuckled as he set down on the couch, dropping a tablet on the table in the process.

"Now that you mention it there is one thing related to work," he mockingly confessed as he ran his fingers along his jaw in a thinking expression. "Something about a bunch of mercs dying on a freighter full of stolen hanar cobalt at the hands of a drell."

Finally. Something to do, she thought. "You're thinking they are connected to the Shadow Broker?"

"I suspect it although we're not certain right now," he said. "Look at the third picture," he suggested as Tela selected the close up depiction of a tattoo showing a three pronged, red star with a white line cutting it from top to the button.

"Does it look familiar?" Redford asked.

"Seen it on some of the guys the Shadow Broker considers his go-to mercenaries," she recalled.

"So the people killed by the drell most likely worked for the Broker?"

"Could be, these contractors take other jobs as well. People with this particular tattoo are related to a group that calls itself the Final Wave."

"What's with the name?" Redford asked as Tela handed him the tablet back.

"They try to suggest that you won't need to send anyone else at the problem once they take it on. it is usually true," Tela had to admit to their abilities. If her memory served her right, which it most certainly did, the Final Wave recruited only the best contractors into their ranks.

"They are not really into all that usual mercenary business, are they? Never heard of such a group running drugs in the Terminus."

"The Final Wave doesn't have to, they don't employ nearly as many people as Eclipse did and they are the closest thing you're going to find to quiet professionals in terms of private security. They get paid a lot by the people who hire them."

"Like the Broker?"

"Officially they get their jobs through middleman, completely legal in Council Space."

"So they aren't based in the Terminus?"

"No, they even have an office in the Presidium."

"What are the chances of the Shadow Broker trying to make a move against the HSA?" Redford seemingly blurted out although Tela was sure that he had meant to ask that question for a rather long time.

"The Broker is a calculating gambler. If the risk was worth the pay-off, he'd probably do anything, why?"

"Because we believe he's aiding a new generation of separatists," Redford replied with a hint of worry in his voice. "If he is, we have to put a stop to it.

She had read up on the Fringe Wars in her free time, a conflict she knew Redford had experienced first hand. An experience that had left a clearly visible mark on the man.

She sympathized.

"The Shadow Broker has probably tried to contact me," Tela began. "if your superiors agree, I could always try to reach out to him. Set up a meeting with one of the middleman, maybe it'll help you in tracking them down."

"Tela, you're a political refugee. We can't possibly ask you to do that. We are responsible for your security, that was part of the deal," the blonde man replied as looked into her eyes.

"Grant," she said using his first name. "I was a Spectre for longer than you, your superiors and they superiors have been alive. I was trained to be an asari huntress since my childhood. I've spent nearly four centuries fighting fights, I can handle a bunch of thugs if it means helping out someone who's important to me," she argued as she noted the smile on Redford's face. "Why are you grinning?"

"You just called me important," he replied in a higher than usual tone. "I am flattered."

She almost said that she'd flatten him if he didn't stop the grinning but decided to lay of the snark for the moment.

"I'll bring it up to my superiors," Redford finally spoke. "But I still got some free time."

"So you're going to bother me, aren't you?" Tela chuckled.

"I clearly recall demanding a rematch for that horrible defeat you dealt to me in Kepesh-Yakshi the other day."

"You'll lose again," Tela said as she went to get the asari game centered around conquering the home world of the opponent.

"Well, I'll make it a costly victory," Grant Redford replied with confidence as he leaned back on the couch.

"We'll see about that," Tela said as she took on the challenge with a smile on her face.

* * *

 **5\. March 2390 AD, Elysium**

"Scanners confirm Cobalt-60 trails leading inside that shack. One of the containers must've leaked," a voice whispered from inside his helmet as they observed the house located far inside Elysium's unclaimed forrest. "They have no idea we're here, do they?" he chuckled.

"Don't you jinx our stealth, Icer," he warned his subordinate as he seamlessly blended into the green of the forest, his SR-8 hovering over an insurgents head, his finger still rested above the rifle's trigger guard. They were completely unaware of the four soldiers observing them. It was fitting considering the unit's slogan.

The intangible is indomitable.

"You're a buzzkill, you know that?" the man replied in an accented voice that betrayed his roots.

The buzzkill lowered his rifle and activated his radio. "Command, this is Predator. We've got eyes on the location, it's a positive, over."

"Copy that Predator, you're clear to execute the mission. Good hunt. Over and out."

"You heard it people, let's get this show going," he ordered as the members of his four man fireteam got into positions from which they'd be able to make their shots, their sights hovering over their assigned targets, a small red circle in his hud showing the two people he would dispatch, one of them smoking a cigarette, its orange glowing end betraying where his head would be even without the night vision gear inside his helmet. The other was currently minding his own business at a table visible through a window. He'd shoot him second, the sound of shattering glass would give away the fact that something was about to happen to any insurgent who would be alive to hear it. He wouldn't take that chance.

All in all there were exactly eight armed insurgents waiting in the immediate area of their target with an unknown number of armed separatists possibly acting as a quick reaction force in case of an assault on the depot.

They'd be gone long before that hypothetical QRF would be anywhere near them. This was the sole advantage of fighting terrorists, usually they weren't ready for an immediate counter attack.

The infrared laser pointer attached to his rifle came to live as he once more aimed at the head of the smoking insurgent, three other beams of similar nature finding their own marks. His finger crept from the trigger guard and pressed against the trigger itself, the pressure point coming ever closer to releasing a bullet.

"Execute," he whispered as he squeezed the trigger on the hybrid rifle, the bullet accelerated by mass effect fields and silenced by a suppressor hitting its mark and causing the cigarette to drop from the insurgents mouth as his brain was splattered over the ground.

At least he had spent the last seconds of his life looking at Elysium's night sky. A beautiful last thing to see.

Not a second later, his sights found the insurgent sitting at the table, his head turning to the general direction in which Icer had just killed one of his friends just as Predator ended his life as well, a well placed round drilling into the temple of the insurgent, the force causing him to flal backwards from his chair and hitting the ground inside the shack.

"Move up, watch your spacing," he ordered as he silently walked through the forest, the optical camouflage disbanding itself as he decided to save power.

The other three members of his unit appeared behind him with a short delay, four figures in light, camouflaged armor now walking out of the forest and towards the shack, the lack of gunfire or alarms marking another job well done.

He looked through the window and spotted the containers, his suit informing him of the increase in radioactive energy in his imminent area.

"Well at least we spared them the cancer treatment," Icer commented as he slowly opened the door to the shack, the Cobalt-60 containers now visible inside an isolation chamber.

"Health insurance covers that shit, you dick," Cosmo corrected him as the man lowered his rifle. "Our suits shield us from that shit though right?"

"For the sake of future generations, I hope they prevent you from ever procreating," the final member of unit joked as he moved past Predator.

"Shut the fuck up Basilisk," Cosmo stated as both of them disabled the isolation chamber's locking mechanism.

"Command, send in the recovery crew. We've got the Cobalt-60, over."

* * *

 _Codex: Final Wave_

 _The Final Wave, founded in 1884 CE by a former asari spectre, a retired STG agent, a member of the batarian SIU and a turian cabal, is a security company operating inside and outside Citadel Space._

 _The company grew famous not only through the level of skill displayed by its contractors but also by their actions during the Geth War. Employed by the quarian government to carry out high-risk, high-reward missions, the company's contractors displayed a level of loyalty to the mission unheard of in mercenaries, completing all of the assignments, the last one being to cover the retreat of quarian civilians en route to a spaceport sending out ships to the migrant fleet, even in face of death._

 _The Final Wave draws it name from two sources, the first being the idea that they are the last people sent into combat since another wave won't be necessary after they complete the assignment and the other being that they are the last people to be sent if everything else has failed._

 _The company promises secrecy for all clients and remains one of the few legal mercenary companies within Citadel space due to its legal department being one of the most competent once inside the corporate world of galactic society._

 _Rumors claiming the Shadow Broker hires members of the Final Wave whenever a situation requires the skill of former special operatives are usually quickly disbanded by the company's PR department. An investigation into the matter by Council authorities failed to bring up evidence, the people working for the shadow broker being considered former employees by the Final Wave._

* * *

 **A/N: So, chapter 18. Setting up the new plot points and revealing some details of the past along the way.**

 **I know there isn't a lot of action in this chapter but I hope you like it anyway.** **I'd like to point out that I made the Final Wave up myself. I hope you like it. Also I really liked the scene between Redford and Vasir, it's nice to write some 'normal' human interaction once in a while.** **I know most of Alec's scene was a bit on the silly side but I felt like doing it.**

 **Let me know what you think, I love reading reviews.**

 **Next up, an Elcor. That'll be fun to write.**

 **As of right now we're at 129 Reviews, 307 favorites and 384 follows. We broke a viewing record with the last uplaod as well, reaching 2.510 views in ONE day. That's insane guys, I never expected Semper Vigilo to grow this BIG. Like I didn't even expect to get a fraction of that attention.**

 **Anyway... as I said, review. I like to read them.**

 **See you around next time.**


	19. Decay Products

**Chapter 19. Decay Products**

* * *

 **5\. March 2390 AD, Citadel, Lower Wards**

Alec walked through the narrower corridors of the apartment complex that had been built on the Lower Wards, his eyes scanning the numbers on each door to find the one he was looking for, A-8-14.

The air recycling in this particular part of the Lower Wards, mostly due to the apartments being rather expensive considering the area they were in, was better than in the area around Chora's Den and other clubs. While it didn't compare to the quality delivered by the atmospheric scrubbers installed on the Presidium, it was still much better than during the last time he had traveled to this particular part of the giant space station that served as the center of galactic cooperation.

The Citadel might have been the fraction of the size of a planet but it still displayed all shades of quality of life, something one couldn't say about Arcturus. The human-made space station might be smaller, less sophisticated and more fragile but it lacked any sorts of slum-like areas. It also lacked creepy, green insects acting as its janitors. Alec, still not really certain what about them was giving him the creeps, stared at the being traveling through the apartment complex, focused on a task only it knew about.

"2-0 for Arturus," Alec said as he looked behind him to ensure the bug didn't get any ideas.

The doors passed by him, "A-8-10, A-8-11, A-8-12," he read the signs as he kept walking. "A-8-13." Turning his head to the left, he finally had reached his destination, "A-8-14. Wasn't so hard now, was it," he told himself as he ignored the fact that it had taken him the better part of an hour to even get here, the shortage of room causing the Lower Wards to be built like some sort of labyrinth, buildings mere meters away from each other in terms of distance were separated by hundreds of meters in terms of walking.

Even Rapid Transit could only get you that far on the Citadel.

He double checked the address on his omni-tool and flicked the safety off of the SIS-8 hidden in his waistband. He had decided to load it with armor-penetrating rounds just in case this elcor was not just 'rude' in the way of typical behaviour but also in the way he suspected someone giving work to mercenaries to be 'rude'.

If this Hartan got any ideas, he'd need to be quick. While elcor lacked traditional means of hand to hand combat, they were still natives to a world with high gravity, giving them incredible strength and resilience even compared to the krogan. Fighting him would be the absolute last option. For now he'd just stick to playing his role as a private investigator while counting that this Hartan was just as much of a pacifist as the other elcor he had met.

He rang the doorbell and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Then, after nearly three minutes and several attempts, the doors hissed open.

"Annoyed, what do you want?" the dark-brown elcor wearing a blue 'carpet' over his back asked.

"Are you Hartan?"

"Mildly Confused, yes. Why are you here?" Hartan replied in the monotone typical for his race.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding Itari Zikrian," Alec replied.

"Irritated, I am currently working. Come back later," the elcor said as it took a step back in an attempt to close the door.

It was far too slow to lock Alec out as the specialist used the gap to step inside. He knew elcor were territorial. This move was sure to piss him off but it was his best play right now. Elcor were after all rather slow thinking.

"You see, that's gonna have to wait," he explained. "She was found dead on a freighter and right about now you're one of the last people to have seen her alive. You're also the reason she got that job in the first place and since I was hired to look into this, I'll make you answer my questions."

"Angry, human step out of my home or I will call C-SEC."

"Now you should think about that one Hartan. Right about now you either speak to me, who doesn't care about the fact that you run an unregistered business or you go and call C-SEC and once they get here I let them know of your little operation."

Checking up on the elcor had been worth it. He got a lot of money for his work. Money no one beside him knew off. To put it short, the elcor was committing tax evasion on a scale that would give him a lot of trouble.

"What's it gonna be?"

"Frustrated, I will answer your questions."

"Great. First of you need to tell me if you actually gave her that job. Did you?"

"Earnest, Yes. I forwarded the assignment to Itari. She was one of my more frequent clients."

"Where you given the details of the job?"

"Explanatory, I only receive information such as the amount of credits the contractors are paid on completion or the people they are supposed to contact for further details," the elcor said.

"So you're basically just a living small ad?" Alec sighed upon the realisation. This guy wasn't the middleman, he was just a way for the actual middleman to make his trail even harder to follow.

Great.

"Insulted, my work is very important. Proud, I collect information on the people asking me to forward their job requests."

"So you can give me the name of the guy that put out this particular mission," Alec figured. "Let's hear it."

"Deflecting, I do not betray the trust of my clie-"

"Fine, let me just call C-SEC. They'll love to lock up yet another tax-evading assho-", Alec began as his omni-tool came to live.

"Panicked, don't. I will cooperate. According to my research, the person that put out the request was Barla Von."

"You managed to listen in on his comm-feed?" Alec guessed.

"Earnest, no. I contacted another information broker," that made more sense.

"Is there anything else you can tell me about Barla Von?"

"Explanatory, he is a volus working from the financial district of the Presidium."

"So he's the financial guy of whoever put out the request," Alec said to himself as he opened his omni-tool and noted the name.

"Panicked, I cooperated, why are you cal-"

"Relax, I just wrote down the name," Alec replied as he raised his hands. "I'm a man of my word. I'll be on my way now. I've got what I came for," he promised as he slowly backed out of the door. "I'd hate to come back so if there's anything else, now's the time."

The elcor simply stared at him, its small, black eyes narrowing even more as it glanced to its side, an orange hologram on its front leg activating and the door closing in front of Alec's face mere seconds later.

"Lying, have a good day." Hartan called from beyond the door.

"So that's why Alihia called him rude," Alec figured as he walked away.

* * *

 **Six Hours Later, Citadel, Presidium**

The night cycle of the Presidium Ring, the part of the Citadel to which the five wards were attached, was slowly closing in. Activity on the well maintained pathways was starting to die down as the Citadel's elite began to head home from their working places, only few businesses and offices still open.

One such building was the one in which Barla Von was working. He specialized in financial advise, or as some would call it money laundering. Whether he was still here because there was actual work left to do or if the volus was simply looking to squeeze out as many credits out of the hour he was still allowed to keep his people here was up to someone besides Alec to judge.

After all, as a specialist he didn't really have fixed working hours he could stick to.

The door to the white building complex opened and a lobby revealed itself to the specialist. It was decorated with plants, chairs, desks and various sources of information regarding the company itself.

In the center of the room, facing the door he had just walked through and in his direct path towards the office of Barla Von an asari secretary was still manning her desk, her eyes glued to a terminal displaying the time. He walked towards it, intending to pretend that he was expected to be somewhere.

She got in the way of that.

"Business offices are closed to costumers after the 16th standard hour," she said in a dull tone as she her eyes stayed glued to the terminal. "You'll have to come back tomorrow sir."

"I'm not really here as a costumer," Alec replied as he leaned on the desk and decided to play nice for now. "I'll only be inside for a few minutes," he said as nice as he could.

"If you don't work here, you can't go inside, I'm sorry. Please feel free to come by tomorrow, we open at the eight standard hour," the secretary said with a bored tone as she turned to actually look at him.

"Really, I only have to speak to Barla Von for a few moments, then I'll be gone. You won't even know I was here," there was some irony in it. He was confident he could've gotten in unnoticed if he wanted. Considering where this conversation was apparently heading, it might have been for the better.

"Sir, I will say it one more time. Come back tomorrow, please don't make me call security," she sighed in frustration.

Time for a change of strategy. If charming didn't work, maybe slight intimidation would.

"I don't think Barla Von would be pleased to hear that you sent away one of his business partners," Alec gambled. He knew it was a cliché but he counted on the asari not knowing it. "Of course you can still call security, I'd just like to know your name so I know who to point at when he asks why the meeting was delayed," it was risky of course. He gambled on the secretary not being too close to any of the people working in the office building, gambled on the fact that she didn't know that Barla Von had no idea who he was.

By the look on her face it wasn't working but when she looked back at the terminal opened her mouth to speak it surprised Alec.

"Actually my shift just ended," she replied with a sudden smile as she grabbed a bag from underneath the table and got up. "This is now officially not my problem. Feel free to do whatever you want. I'd really appreciate it if I don't have to come to work tomorrow, if you catch my drift."

"I'm afraid you'll have to show up," Alec replied confused as he looked after the asari walking out of the front door with new found joy in her life. Apparently this was a horrible place to work at after all.

Shaking his head, he turned back towards the entrance he was now free to walk into, the office of Barla Von coming closer with every step he took through the clean, white, artificially illuminated building.

He came to a stop in front of an already opened door and looked inside a volus in a brown environment suit with white highlights and yellow writing on it typing away at a terminal, his small hands moving at an incredibly fast pace. He chose to observe for a few moments, expecting the volus to acknowledge the stranger in his office.

He didn't. He simply kept working.

"Are you Barla Von?" Alec asked, breaking the silence which before was only interrupted by the sound of the volus breathing apparatus.

"What does an Earth-clan want from me?" he asked without looking away from his holographic screen, sporadic breaths filling the room again. "I am a rather busy man."

"Only a short chat really," Alec replied as he stepped inside the office, the small room was rather spartan compared to other offices he had seen. Instead of overlooking the beautiful scenery of the Presidium through a large window, the furniture consisted of only a desk, two chairs and what Alec assumed to be a server unit behind the volus. Apparently being the turian's client race had left an impact on the volus. The room might as well have belonged to a turian. "Does the name Itari Zikrian ring a bell?"

"I have heard it before," the volus replied as he looked up from the orange hologram, its light reflecting of the white parts of his environment suit. The volus needed to wear these pressurized suits at any given time when interacting in the environment most Citadel species lived in. The high pressure and unique atmosphere of their home world Irune meaning that they'd die if removed from their suits.

Truthfully Alec didn't even know what a volus looked like. He had put off on looking up what the small aliens looked underneath the protective layers that kept them save from an environment that would kill them in moments. Somehow he knew that he did not want to know it.

"You should, its the name of a mercenary who died on a mission you gave out," Alec said as he returned his focus to the task at hand and set down on one of the chairs, coming down to the eye level of the much smaller alien, "I need you to tell me who hired you to hire Hartan to hire them," he said, the structure of the sentence not even drawing a confused 'what' or 'excuse me' from the volus.

Instead he began to chuckle, a chuckle interrupted ever so often by the sound of him needing to breath.

"I can tell you but it won't really help you," the volus replied and drew in another, mechanically filtered breath. "The Shadow Broker asked me to put out the job. He contacted me through a scrambled line and had his signal bounce through multiple comm buoys before actually reaching me. It's effectively untraceable."

"So you're an agent of the Broker? How's that working for you?" the specialist questioned as he made a mental note to inform Harper's task force about this particular case. The volus seemed willing to cooperate.

"One doesn't refuse the Shadow Broker," the volus replied in a sober tone. "I am his agent because there isn't such a thing as a choice in this matter," Barla Von explained. "If he wants you to do something, you either do it or you find your life in ruins soo after. An information broker can do a lot more than just hire a thug to shoot you," the volus reasoned in a seemingly indifferent voice. Apparently he was content with his situation. "In my line of work information can be a blessing and a curse. The Shadow Broker is a questionable ally but he is an even more terrible foe," the volus went on. "It is working for me because the alternative is much worse Earth-clan."

"Did you know any details about the job?" Alec asked while keeping the comment about the volus's integrity to himself. "Location, duration, risk assessment, objectives?"

"Why do you want to know?" the volus countered.

"I'm a private investigator. I was hired by the shipping company to look into their missing vessel," Alec replied sticking to his cover story.

"Since when do shipping companies hire human embassy staff as private investigators?" the volus replied as he turned off his terminal, the orange reflections on his suit disappearing. "I only know that it was an asset protection operation headed for Elysium," Barla Von answered. "The Shadow Broker wanted mercenaries to protect a shipment of interest, I got him his mercenaries. I didn't know that they'd die, Earth-clan," there was a hint of guilt in his voice. He'd use that.

"Why this shipment?" Alec replied, well aware that the volus had just demolished his cover story. This called for yet another change of strategy. The second time today.

"Why does the Shadow Broker do anything? More power," the volus simply deflected. "His reasons are as much of an enigma as his identity. One day he helps the Council prevent a terrorist attack, the other day he sells the terrorists patrol schedules," Barla Von chuckled. "Personally however I see this as evidence that the Shadow Broker isn't a single person but rather a group. It would explain some of the contradicting things he's done in the past."

"What does the Shadow Broker have to gain from smuggling things on a human colony?" Alec pressed on while considering the volus's suggestion. A group of people would certainly explain how the Shadow Broker was able to coordinate his massive network of agents.

"You are under the impression that I know more than I actually do," the volus replied. "The Shadow Broker works on a need-to-know system, I told you what I needed to know. I can't tell you his ultimate goal, if there even is one."

"You obviously have some idea of who I am," Alec said, receiving a nod from the volus as he stepped closer and leaned on the financial advisor's desk, looking down at the smaller alien. "Don't make me come back."

"I have no reason to lie to you, I told you everything I was made aware of," Barla Von replied as he understood Alec's underlying threat. "But before you go, I do have a piece of advise."

"I'm listening," the specialist replied. This conversation, while strange, had given him surprising insight into the Shadow Broker.

"Don't get on the Broker's bad side, people who end up there tend to be short lived. There's a reason why the Council considers him such a threat and that reason is completely justified," Barla Von spoke. "There's a salarian saying, 'Knowledge can fell even the most powerful empire'. Not even the fanciest armor or the best training will protect you if he strikes where you least expect it. Watch yourself Earth-clan."

"I'll keep it in mind," Alec replied as he stepped away from the desk and turned towards the door. "If anyone asks, we discussed financial details," he instructed.

"Of course Earth-clan. Always a pleasure to do business with you."

* * *

 **7\. March 2390 AD, Arcturus Station**

"So you'll contact one of the Shadow Broker's agents under the guise of looking for work." the director of Section 13, his immediate superior, questioned the former Spectre standing next to Redford. "And then, when he's there, we'll jump him and and make him talk about the connection between this incident and his boss. Why he's doing all of this and how we can get him off our back permanently," the director of Section 13 summarized as her projected figure turned towards Redford. "This sounds like a solid plan to you, La Qila?"

"It's better than nothing," Redford shrugged. "We already know that the Shadow Broker was involved with at least one attempt of smuggling Cobalt onto Elysium. At this point we can't do worse than piss him off some more."

"Ignoring the fact that we'd put a political refugee and valuable source of intelligence in harms way, what are the chances of it even working in the first place?" she questioned as she looked at Tela. "If I were in his shoes, I'd be more than suspicious that you suddenly want to switch sides again. You've been working with us for almost two years and doing so very publicly mind you. Why would you only reach out now?"

"I didn't have the means to communicate until recently," the asari with blue skin and purple facial tattoos explained as she began to narrate her cover story,"I played along until I saw an opportunity. Then, over the course of months, I managed to seduce my personal guard and used him to escape from Arcturus. We stole a shuttle, I ditched him as soon as possible and went to hide on Omega. The HSA kept it quiet to avoid a major blow to its credibility and I used the last few weeks to improve my position."

"It's not your story that I'm doubting, it's the gut feeling of the Shadow Broker that I'm respecting," the director said. "He's worked with you before, he knows you could've done something like that earlier. I know that I wouldn't take the chance and I think that a person wanted in the entire galaxy wouldn't do it either."

"Instead of looking at the chance of it working, we should look at what else we can really do," Redford reasoned. "Every day we spent fumbling in the dark is another day for the IFS to grow stronger with this guy's help," the specialist said. "Besides the lead on the Citadel turned up nothing besides the knowledge that the Shadow Broker does in fact have an issue with us and that some of his agents like spilling their guts. What else can we do really? Sit around and wait for something to happen?" Redford countered.

"How exactly would you set this meeting up?" she questioned as she ran a hand along her chin, thinking.

"I'd ask to meet one of his personal agents. They are the few people who have a direct link to him. Normally the Broker works through a chain of middleman but they are different. We'd set up a time and spot and talk in person before separating," Tela replied. "Just like we usually did on Illium in the past."

"There is an issue with the Illium part," the director said before turning back to Redford. "Ever since the little stunt Praetorian and you pulled, Ms. Vasir and her two 'unknown accomplices' are wanted criminals on Illium. Authorities offer quite the amount of credits for any leads that would lead to your capture."

"The Shadow Broker isn't afraid to send someone to Omega," Tela replied. "He isn't particularly attached to most of his agents really.

"And then, given that he actually goes for it, we bag whoever he sends? That's bound to raise some attention." the director replied.

"Someone being kidnapped on Omega isn't exactly something unusual," the asari argued.

"Surely they won't come alone given how dangerous that rock can be."

"No the Shadow Broker will most likely sent an agent and that agent will hire a bunch of mercs," Tela answered. "It's how I met that batarian," the asari said as she turned to Redford. "You know the one yo-"

"Yes I remember. She can handle herself ma'am. I just feel sorry for whoever that agent hires." Redford argued. "Besides, I'd like to be there anyway, alongside the field team."

"In case this all goes south?" the director questioned.

"Partially," Redford replied in a more casual tone. "Tela's my responsibility," he argued before swiftly adding, "but I also want to be there to see the stupid look on the guy's face when we bag him."

"Permission granted," the director replied dryly. "Don't get another bounty on your head. Omega is less interested in leads than it is in 'wanted, dead or alive'."

"No promises, Ma'am."

"Since Ms. Vasir is not part of Section 13, we can't act within the legal autonomy we were given during the Fringe Wars. I'll have to ask the permission of the Chancellor on this one, he'll have to give the green light before this is happening. Until then you'll stay on Arcturus, understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Redford replied.

"Should we get the green light, I'll arrange for your armor and gear to be delivered to you and for the necessary preparations to be made," the director continued. "I appreciate that you are willing to risk this. I'll contact the chancellor as soon as possible and inform Redford of any developments," she said before turning the projector off on her end causing her blue form to vanish from the briefing room within Arcturus's security hub.

"So now we play the waiting game," Redford sighed as he ran a hand through his short, blond hair.

"I've been waiting for nearly two years, I think I can manage another day," Tela replied as they walked towards the door of the room, Redford pushing it open with one arm in front of them.

"These meetings with an agent of the Broker, how did they usually go down?" he asked as they walked through the grey corridors of the security hub, people in uniforms of all services walking past them.

"We meet in a public place like a club or a shopping center and use the crowd as cover. It's easier to lose someone who's tailing you if there's lots of people around you," she explained. "Once we find each other, we exchange the information and linger some time. Makes it less obvious that way."

"If it doesn't look like just an exchange, it's less likely to draw attention," the specialist reasoned. "Do go on."

"Not much to go on after that, we part ways once we're sure no one followed us, the agent goes back to the Broker, I take care of the job. Once all is said and done, I get the intel I asked for and use it to play the hero."

"You've made quite a few deals with the guy, haven't you?" he asked as he turned to look at her.

"Too many," Tela replied. "Working for the Broker is, how do you say, 'a two-sided blade'?"

"Double-edged sword," he corrected her as they walked out of the security hub, Arturus's artificial sky looming over them as they began to walk to the apartment Tela had been given.

"Anyway it's not exactly something I am proud of," Tela went on as she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the light. "Sure, I've saved a lot of people through his information but I've also helped him hurt a lot of people. Not exactly very heroic."

"In our line of work we can't save everyone," Redford replied as they walked across the small square, the guards at the security hub's exit only stopping them for a short few seconds before Redford transmitted his Section 13 clearance. "What matters is that we're on the right side at the end of the day."

The former Spectre grew silent as she considered his words, the door of the apartment building opening with a by now familiar sound as its motion sensors picked them up. The couple walked up the stairs and headed for the elevator. When its doors opened, they stepped inside.

"As far as I'm concerned you were on the right side back then," Redford said as he broke the silence once the elevator began to move.

"Was I?" she countered.

"You still are," he said. "Someone who's on the wrong side wouldn't be willing to risk their own skin for a bunch of strangers. They'd be happy to live their life out in comfort here on Arcturus."

"I'd go mad from boredom," Tela joked as the elevator doors opened up and they stepped outside to continue their walk towards her apartment.

"Hey you could always trash me in Kepesh-Yakshi," Redford chuckled. "Sure, you'd win all the time but eventually I'd be something close to a challenge."

"Your optimism never fails to amuse me,"the asari replied as the door to her apartment opened and she walked inside.

"I'll swing by once I know if this is going down or not," Redford said as he leaned against the doorway.

"I'll be here," Tela shrugged as he turned away and began to walk back to the security hub. There was still work to be done.

* * *

 **8\. March 2390 AD, Elysium, Colonial Capital New Illyria**

Things had been going smooth ever since the benefactor had offered his help. The device was currently resting on his desk with various wires and components placed next to it, waiting to be added. Only a few pieces were still missing to complete it. Progress had been swift thanks to the benefactor's help. Equipment locked up behind countless security measures had found its way into his hands ever since he had been contacted by him.

There was just one issue.

The single most important part of his project was missing. His signature had been stolen from him. The news that one freighter had been stopped and boarded had caught him off guard. The news of the HSA once more starting to look for him had made things complicated. The news about the cobalt deposit being discovered and seized had done something else entirely.

It had made him angry.

So angry that he had decided to reach out for the benefactor on his own terms. Something the benefactor hadn't been particularly happy about.

"The interference of the hanar assassin was an unexpected turn of events," the altered voice spoke through the communicator. "But its consequences were not unwelcome."

"Not unwelcome? They took all my cobalt from me," Kamarov replied angrily through the communicator, his scrambler firm in place and ensuring he wouldn't be discovered. "Cobalt I need for my masterpiece. This put us back to square one and don't even get me started on the fact that the HSA stepped up their orbital controls. You won't get another freighter through here for months."

"Let me worry about the procurement and secrecy of this operation. For now just focus on your part," the benefactor said.

"My part?" Kamarov questioned. "You promised me to get me the things I need and now you've drawn more attention to me. The HSA is getting closer with every minute we speak," the Butcher argued.

"While they are focused on the believe that you will construct just another bomb using outdated methods, we can prepare an even more devastating blow."

"Just another bomb?" Kamarov repeated. "Outdated methods?" This was an insult to his work. "I thought you were supposed to assist me."

"I've contacted your colleague and we came to the conclusion that different methods could have a more," the benefactor stated before pausing as if he was trying to find a word that wouldn't upset the Butcher of Elysium any further, "effective impact."

"Effective impact?" Kamarov asked. "They are still bleeding from the last time. Ten years ago. I need this coba-"

"You fail to see your role in all of this," the benefactor interrupted him in a sudden, sinister fit of anger. "Know your place or you will find that I am terrible foe to have," he stated as his voice distortion software failed to blend out a distinctively unique, very low tone. A tone Kamarov hadn't heard in any alien ever before.

Anger translated through all species. Known and unknown as it would seem. His benefactor's anger was evident in spite of the now noticeable sound to his voice.

"And what would my role be?" Kamarov replied in a cold tone, his own anger giving way to curiosity. For now.

"While they spent their time chasing your shadow and the trail of cobalt leading into nothing our mutual acquaintance will prepare a strike that will devastate them in more ways than one of your masterpieces ever could."

"This wasn't the deal," Kamarov replied. "You said you'd assist me," he emphasized the last part. "Now you throw that away and go behind my back and have a chat with-" the Butcher interrupted himself.

"My assistance isn't ending. It's changing," the benefactor reasoned. "Right now we need the Surgeon to be a distraction."

"Funny you'd say 'we', I don't recall agreeing to be bait," Andrej Kamarov chuckled.

"The 'we' I was referring to did not include you," the benefactor said, his voice distortion once more revealing the distinct, deep sound he made when talking.

"Then maybe I should just go with what I have right now," Kamarov threatened.

"That way you won't see your work finished. The thought of it alone will keep you from going against my instructions," the benefactor countered. "Know your place or you'll find your masterpiece and yourself within the HSA's hands in mere days."

With that the communicator cut out, leaving Andrej Kamarov alone in his darkened, soundproof apartment. He'd have to have a chat with his 'colleague'. This couldn't stand.

One didn't deny an artist to place the final stroke on his painting.

Kamarov switched the frequency of his communicator and waited the agreed on five rings until the person on the other hand took the call.

"Good morning," he greeted, beginning the pattern.

"Evening actually."

"Whatever. Why are you calling me?"

"Are you busy right now?"

"I'm free to talk."

"What the hell were you thinking when you went behind my back with my benefactor?" Kamarov said as he stressed the 'my' both times.

"I was thinking about the future of our cause. A dirty bomb is an act of terror, we don't need that. We need an act of strength," his contact reasoned.

"So you just decided on throwing me out as bait?" Kamarov spoke. "Our 'benefactor' threatened to rat me out to the HSA if I don't play along. How's that working for us?"

"It's keeping you on a leash," the contact countered. "I've told you before not to overestimate your importance. Our cause is bigger than the two of us and its certainly bigger than one of your masterpieces."

"What are you planning ?" Kamarov asked. "If I'm supposed to be a distraction I deserve to know."

"You'll learn once I require your set of skills, Surgeon," the contact replied enigmatically. "For now I need you to keep your operations on Elysium going."

"I don't like being kept in the dark," the Butcher of Elysium said as he swallowed the desire to lash out.

"I don't like repeating myself," the man countered. "Finish as much of your project as you can and stand by until I contact you. Don't reach out to me, don't reach out to the benefactor. We will contact you. Understood?"

"Yes," he replied as he reminded himself that his work was more important than his anger. "I'll draw as much of their attention as I can."

"Good," the contact replied as the projector turned off.

Andrej Kamarov began disassembling the scrambler and hiding its pieces. As he was about to hide the first part inside the air ducts, an idea manifested itself inside his head which caused him to begin to assemble his scrambler once more.

Putting the pieces back together, he dialed the number of his assistant.

"Bit late for a courtes-"

"Drop the act, the line is secured. Can you talk?" the Butcher interrupted the woman.

"Yes. What do you need me to do, Surgeon?"

"I need you to get me in touch with the most devoted members of our cause. There is something I need them to prepare."

If he was supposed to be a distraction, he'd be one on his own terms.

"Tell them to prepare for a big one."

"I will."

* * *

 **2132 CE, Aephus ,Turian Naval Rally Point**

It was that time of the month again. Another threat assessment briefing.

His presence here was a result of the fact that he had missed the briefing regarding Palaven's cluster, the one which he was actually supposed to attend since the Blackwatch was a legion assigned to the turian's home world, not Aephus's cluster. Since he had been in the area for unrelated business, he had been 'asked' to attend this threat assessment instead. To stay updated on the state of the galaxy.

"Generals, Admirals," the intelligence officer in charge of this colonial cluster spoke as he addressed the most important military commanders in the imminent area. "Primarch Sparatus," he nodded towards the man with black features and large, white facial marks.

"The threat level for our cluster is regarded as low for the moment," he spoke. "We have no reports of separatism, no intelligence regarding the planning of terroristic acts nor have elements of the patrol fleet assigned to our cluster clashed with any major Terminus Forces in the last four weeks."

The screen displayed the cluster, holding roughly twenty colonies with Aephus being considered the cluster's 'capital', ruling over nearly four billion turians.

"The cluster's defenses are still completely operational and repairs on our long range scanners have been completed," the intelligence officer went on. Desolas couldn't help but be impressed that the Captain was not in the slightest intimidated by standing in front of the five highest ranking turians in the cluster and the commanding officer of the Hierarchy's most secretive legion. "Furthermore the scheduled trade convoys of the Vol Protectorate have been able to traverse the cluster without incident."

Then the screen switched images, now displaying the entire galaxy.

"The threat level of the galaxy is regarded as medium, leaning towards high," the officer went on. "Batarian forces continue their lockdown of several worlds in the Terminus Systems and the Attican Traverse. Our reports suggest that they are looking for something. We don't know what it is as of now but we do know that they've fired at several independent investigators and civilian vessels on the grounds of trespassing."

The officer paused for a moment as if he considered his next words and the images of space wreckage appeared on screen.

"Adding to this situation, slavers in the Terminus are still growing stronger with every passing day. Two days ago a major raiding fleet was stopped mere moments before landing on a colony in the Attican Traverse. Elements of the 291st Patrol Flotilla managed to destroy the escort vessels but the transports managed to flee through the relay, presumably into batarian space."

Now the sigil of the Human Systems Alliance appeared on the screen, catching Desolas's attention the moment he realised what he was looking at.

"Human territories are experiencing similar incidents. In preparation for the upcoming joint exercises we were made aware of engagements between human naval formations and slavers resulting in the destruction of a medium sized raiding flotilla. It included an up-to-date batarian cruiser which managed to flee combat with a destroyed main battery after crippling two frigates. Casualties were within the acceptable range although four human vessels will require 'dry dock repairs'," the officer quoted.

This was bad. The batarians didn't give their bleeding edge technology to slavers. This hadn't been a raiding band working for the Batarian Hegemony. This had been a batarian naval unit disguised as a raiding band.

As if the intelligence officer managed to read Desolas's mind the next words out of his mouth were exactly that.

"We have reason to believe that this was a false flag operation of Hegemony forces. Should this knowledge cause further conflict, standing orders of the Primarch of Palaven are as usual to ignore batarian request for military aid."

It was no secret that the Hierarchy despised the Hegemony. Turian leaders made that detail as clear as they could every time they had the chance to do so. Desolas himself somehow suspected his people might even join in on whoever was attacking the Hegemony. In his opinion such a war was long due.

Then the screen switched to display the Citadel or more precisely a docking bay showing two turians and a human with black hair and a blue-white combat uniform walking towards a shuttle of equal colour, a small white circle painted on its blue door.

It looked almost like a sun.

"We have received reports of turian veterans being recruited by an yet unnamed organisation. We only know that they are going to the Terminus Systems and that whoever they are working for is looking for people with backgrounds in the military or C-SEC. The search for the sigil seen on their clothing and shuttle has brought up no results. This is a new player."

Then the screen turned black.

"This concluded the threat assessment briefing of the cluster and the galaxy as a whole," the officer spoke. "Should there be any serious developments you will be notified through encrypted channels. As always, none of this knowledge can leave this room."

"Thank you Captain," the Primarch spoke as he rose from his chair. "You are dismissed, return to your duties."

With that Desolas stood up and left the room, a little more aware of the galaxy's situation than before.

* * *

 **2\. April 2390 AD, Omega, Afterlife**

The green light for the mission had been given mere days after Redford had suggested it.

The preparations however had turned out to be much more difficult than expected. Getting Vasir and her gear on Omega had been the easy part. Contacting the Broker had been manageable.

Getting humans on Omega had been the hard part.

To say that they were unwelcome on the mining asteroid was an understatement. Omega had been a safe haven for criminals, slavers, drug lords and mercenaries for thousand of years. All of which were groups that had directly or indirectly been affected by the HSA's war against the Blood Pack and Eclipse, both of which had been major players on the station before being reduced to shadows of themselves. The human intervention had left these groups with a rather negative mindset regarding their species.

No that would be an understatement as well.

The Terminus Systems had developed a collective hatred against the newcomers to the galactic stage, a hatred Redford had noticed in the sheer amount of bribery and acts of violence that had to be committed before he and the three members of his field team had been able to enter the station. The only one who seemed to be willing to work with them to a degree had been the asari in charge of the majority of the station.

For this reason the meeting spot that had been set up was a club named Afterlife, a club Redford knew to be the seat of power of Omega's self declared queen, Aria T'Loak. In exchange for allowing them on the station, they had informed her that something was going down. While she hadn't received any of the details she had appreciated the fact that it wasn't going to happen inside her club.

Redford ordered a drink from the barkeeper and withdrew back to the booth near the exit he had selected. He set down on the red fabric and leaned against the wall while taking care to look as casual as possible. Staying focused in spite of loud music, aggressive light shows and the sporadic person feeling the need to ask him to dance was a rather hard task but he still rose to it, his eyes scouring his surroundings all the while looking just like any other guest.

Most people around here were probably some sort of danger. It was after all Omega. It didn't take him long to spot armed individuals. After all with the right amount of money and connections you could get anything past the bouncer.

His team had divided itself so they could cover the main entrance, the connection to the VIP section, the stairway up to Aria's 'throne' and the former Spectre currently waiting at the bar to meet the Shadow Broker's agent.

The tricky part was that no one knew what said agent looked like. They had to rely on the asari giving them a sign. When she ordered two drinks, he'd know that whoever she handed the other drink to was their target.

He was looking for the type of person who was trying too hard to blend in. Whoever it was that he was looking for, they'd be almost unnoticeable. They'd disguise their movements through the people around them, they wouldn't wear anything that would draw attention to them and they would be in a position from which they wouldn't be noticed yet they'd be able to have a good overlook over the situation.

He was essentially looking for someone like himself.

The crowd was an obvious place to start searching given the description Vasir had given them regarding past meetings. So Redford began to look between the eagerly dancing people hooked by the music. He was looking for someone who didn't quite belong into the picture, someone who wasn't here to let loose but to complete an assignment. Someone with a clear purpose.

He spotted a salarian walking through the dance floor with a sense of purpose, the certainty of his movements making that much clear. He didn't stop and he didn't hesitate. He knew where he was going.

The alien was turning his head ever so slightly every few seconds, looking behind himself as if he was being chased by someone yet doing so with impressive discretion. It matched the description Vasir had given him regarding the meeting. The agent would use a crowd to blend in and lose people trailing him.

Redford kept his eyes on him but once he noticed the small package the salarian was carrying in his left hand which was quickly exchanged for something else as a batarian pretended to bump into him it became obvious that he had just witnessed an exchange. More likely a drug dealer or a courier than an agent of the Shadow Broker.

Moving along he couldn't help but notice the lone drell leaning against the entrance of the Afterlife's lower level just at the edge of the crowd. His hands were folded in front of his trench coat as he finished what looked like it had been a prayer. Then he did exactly what Redford was doing. Scanning the crowd for someone like him, doing so from a location that allowed him a swift get away and looking as casual as possible.

But the focus in his eyes betrayed him. The drell didn't act according to the description Vasir had given for the agent's behaviour. He wasn't trying to vanish in the crowd, he wasn't looking for people that were following him. He wasn't looking for someone that may hunt him.

Instead he was hunting someone.

Redford didn't see any weapons on the member of the race known for its assassins but he was sure that the drell was here to complete a job. The fact that he was gone mere seconds after Redford looked away made that much clear. The specialist felt sorry for whoever had been put on the assassin's list.

"Nothing here," the agent placed at the main entrance informed him through an earpiece, "Just a pissed of batarian looking for trouble. Should've seen how the elcor bouncer knocked him out. It was hilarious."

"VIP section reports no development besides horrible drinks."

"Stairway clear."

"Nothing at the bar yet either," he answered them as he spoke into his watch while pretending to scratch his face.

He once more scanned his surroundings from the booth he was sitting in except that this time he was trying to find the most promising candidates outside of the crowd.

The turian looking over the dance floor from a vantage point on the Afterlife's second level was the first one to catch his attention. The heavy pistol tucked in the fabric of his clothes would have made him an obvious suspect if it wasn't for the fact that he simply didn't try to blend in, scars and various other hidden weapons on his body making him too noticeable to meet the former Spectre's description. The guy was more likely to be a mercenary.

Next he looked at the krogan sitting alone at a table, observing from the shadows. His behaviour certainly matched the description the former Spectre had given them. He was looking around the crowd, possibly to decide if someone had followed him. Redford would keep him in mind though the fact that his guards were all to noticeable made him an unlikely candidate.

Then Redford shifted his sights back to Vasir at the bar and noted the other asari approaching her. The woman moved with a sense of direction and she was coming from the crowd. She knew the former Spectre, that much was obvious. She also knew how to blend in.

Was this the agent?

"Stand by," he said as he set down his drink and continued to observe.

After a few moments of chatting, the asari turned around once more as she walked away. No drinks had been bought.

"False alert," he informed the field team and continued to observe.

Minutes passed by and Redford was starting to believe that the agent had flaked on them or that they had been spotted. He was about to call the whole thing off.

Then another turian appeared from within the dancing crowd and approached Vasir who turned around to greet him, shortly afterwards ordering exactly two drinks.

"Look alive people something's happening," Redford said as he noted the absence of the turian on the second level and once more spotted the asari who had just approached Vasir now coming towards her again.

"Armed salarian just walked by the bouncer. Packed some serious hardware," the entrance agent informed him.

"I got two guys coming from the VIP section, headed straight for you."

"Looks like the queen knows something's up," the agent positioned to observe the stairway said. "She looks pissed."

"So she's not in on it," Redford reasoned. At least they hadn't been sold out by her.

Then he began to connect the dots. "We aren't the only one's trying to kidnap someone," he realised as he got up and saw the turian who had just vanished from the second level head straight for Vasir.

"This is a setup."

* * *

 _Codex: Turian Colonial Clusters_

 _The Turian Hierarchy, unlike its fellow Council Members, is a centralized government that rules over all of it colonies with almost full authority from Palaven. This is a trait only shared by the Batarian Hegemony, the other sole galactic government in which the home world of a species is in charge of all colonial matters._

 _While the batarians enforce their rule through colonial viceroys, governors selected for their loyalty to the chairman of the Batarian Hegemony who rule through the might of the Internal Forces and propaganda, the Turian Hierarchy relies on their highest tier of citizenship to complete the task through the use of skills and reputation acquired before becoming a Primarch._

 _Every cluster is ruled by a Primarch who has a seat on the Council of Primrachs and directly answers to the ruler of Palaven's cluster, the Primarch of Palaven and de-facto leader of the turian people. Primarchs are selected after a strict line of succession and usually spent their time before ruling colony clusters as admirals or generals of the Hierarchy, their skills of managing large military logistics and natural charisma more than enough qualification to rule over colony worlds._

 _The Turian Hierarchy currently rules over 63 colonial clusters inhabited by the majority of the 140 billion turians currently known to live in the galaxy. Notable clusters include Palaven, Taetrus, Digeris and Aephus._

* * *

 **A/N: I heard you guys like cliffhangers so here we go ;)**

 **Now I'd like to say that I've been putting of population numbers up to now because of how much we don't know about the Mass Effect universe. I did a lot of math to come to that 140 billion number. I considered the turians dextro-biology and the lack of worlds sharing this feature and the fact that populations stabilize over time. Furthermore since a lot of them are in the military at any given time, I figure they don't have that many children.**

 **Now ignoring that, I hope you like this chapter. I know it took me a day longer than usual to update but I think the extra day was worth it. Writing the elcor was as fun as I imagined it but god damn is it hard to come up with words describing the sentence he's about to say. Props to Bioware for doing that as good as they did in the game.s**

 **One of you pointed out that I make a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes and I know (since you disabled your answer options I'll have to do it here) It's because I am not a native speaker and I usually work on the proof reading rather late to upload during AMERICAN times since that's where the majority of my readers seem to be from.**

 **I know all the things you said but it happens, if it bothers you too much I'm sorry but that's just who I am.**

 **Anyway, you said I should get a beta reader so let me answer that one right now. Won't happen. I don't like the idea of not being able to upload when I want because I have to wait for them to finish reading stuff. This is a one man show. Sorry :D FYI though, I don't spell check A/N.**

 **Now if you want to keep talking about, please contact me privatly and enable your reply function. I don't make a habit out of personally addressing people in the A/N. That's not really the point of them.**

 **Since I got that crossed of now, time for the obligatory track record. We're at 137 reviews (give me more I like them) 320 favorites aaaaaaaaaaand *drumm roll* 401 followers.**

 **We cracked 400. That's just insane. Thank you for sticking with me guys. This feels like a major breakthrough tbh. 400 people. That's a lot.**

 **Holy shit that's a long A/N, time to wrap this up.**

 **As always let me know what you think about the chapter, I appreciate every review.**

 **See you around next time**


	20. Critical Mass

**Chapter 20. Critical Mass**

* * *

 **2132 CE, Omega, Afterlife**

"There you are," she heard the telltale flanging of a turian behind her. "Took me quite some time to find you," he chuckled as she turned around. "That's the risk of a blind date."

This was the Shadow Broker's agent, one of the closer one's as well. She had worked with him before. The turian, unlike her, was dressed rather casual, blue orange fatigues covering most of his green-plated skin.

"Would've been a lot easier on both of us if I had known who I was meeting, Dextra" Vasir countered as she turned towards the bartender and ordered two drinks, signaling the human field team that this was their target by giving one of them to the Broker's agent.

"Well, you know the Broker. He's big on secrecy," Dextra replied as he leaned against the bar.

"Some things never change, do they?" she asked as she noted the asari, a mercenary she had worked with some years back, walk up to her again. She was closely being tailed by a rather menacing looking, scarred turian who didn't even bother to hide most of the weapons he was carrying and a red-armored salarian had just made his entrance, the weapons on him not even hidden in the first place.

Great.

"You've changed though," the agent began to drink, lifting the tube to his mouth. "The Broker doesn't like to be played, Vasir."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vasir asked. She knew exactly what it meant as she spotted two more people walking towards her. They were trying to cross her off. That they actually believed that they could sneak up on a Spectre was a rather amusing thought.

Aria would bound to be pissed. This would get very messy, very soon.

"Did you really believe that the Broker would buy your story?" the turian asked as he set down the drink and turned to look at Vasir.

"No, but I knew you'd come anyway," Tela replied. Her gamble had paid off.

"Wha-" the turian didn't get to finish as she grabbed the back of his head, slamming it into the bar and dodging the biotic swing of the asari merc behind her mere moments later. The mercenary stumbled, the momentum of her punch carrying her forward. Next the turian mercenary made a move for his gun but got interrupted as a member of the human field team, Redford if the hair was anything to go by, tackled him to the ground, allowing Vasir to shift her attention back to the asari who by now had recovered from her missed blow.

She might have been a mercenary with centuries of experience, she might have been a rather powerful biotic. Her next attack, a left, violently purple glowing hook, was executed with precision and the desire to kill. It would've made any commando proud. It would've hit most people.

Spectres weren't selected because they were most people.

The hook found nothing but empty air as Vasir leaned back just enough for the punch to miss, putting the mercenary of her balance and opening her left side up for an attack. Unlike her own strike, Vasir's didn't miss. The biotic blow, honed by four centuries of training, caused purple ripples to appear in the air as it cracked into the asari's rips, the body armor worn under her dress giving way to the force of the former Spectre's fist without taking out enough energy to make the blow less than lethal.

She felt the bones crack, fragments of the ribcage most certainly digging into the asari's lung. However Tela wasn't done. The blow caused the asari mercenary to lean forward, an opportunity she couldn't pass by. Slamming her knee into the unarmored face of the asari caused three kinds of injuries.

First it's force broke most bones in the asari's face, deadly in its own right. Secondly the blow was sure to create all sorts of internal bleeding but the third result made both of those things irrelevant. The whiplash of the strike broke the asari's neck, her head jerking back in a violent way before her entire body became limp and dropped to Tela's feet.

She shot a glance towards Dextra, the turian only now recovering from her surprise attack and caught the barrel of a gun at the edge of her vision, a single round out of the Tempest, a weapon favoured by Eclipse operatives, slamming into her biotic barriers before a powerful kick sent the salarian tumbling into the crowd who had only turned their attention towards her upon the first gun shot.

Bar brawls weren't a rarity on Omega after all.

People began to run away from the fight just as the salarian sat up and went for his backup weapon. A shotgun. He wouldn't fire that in here would he? Those thoughts crossed her mind mere moments before she jumped over the bar to avoid the screen of miniscule rounds rushing towards her. She landed on the ground as the rounds demolished the bottles which had previously been placed on a shelf behind her and pushed herself of the ground just as Dextra started to stumble away. Her attention however was drawn back to the salarian who now leaped over the bar himself, his shotgun once more pointing its deadly end at her. Tela, before the salarian could pull the trigger again, smacked the gun aside and threw a punch at him but whether through his training or his naturally faster reaction time, the salarian managed to dodge it. Now she was at a disadvantage, the orange glow of an omni-blade betraying the mercenaries intention.

He slashed out at her and Tela was only saved by the fact that she let herself fall backwards to the salarian's feet as his blow decimated even more of the bottles lining the shelves of the bar. The former Spectre decided to make the most out of the situation and lashed out at him with a biotic kick while she went for her Carnifex, a turian made 'side arm' which was able to cause damage akin to a rifle at close range. She managed to make contact with the salarian's leg and while the tougher armor of his lower abdomen had previously been able to protect him from Vasir's biotic power, the much lighter, less protective armor on his leg failed to do so.

The salarian collapsed with a scream of pain as the kick snapped his leg in half and dropped forward, allowing Tela to level the Carnifex with the salarian's head. While the mercenary had decided to forgoe a helmet, wearing one wouldn't have saved him from what was next either. The Carnifex, true to its reputation, unleashed a single round as Vasir pulled the trigger and reduced the salarian's head to a green mess, brain parts and blood spattering in all directions as it gave in to the sheer force behind the shot.

Paying no attention to the fact that some of the salarian's blood had gotten over her face, she once more got up from the ground, just in time to see Redford, a large talon-inflicted gash running across the left side of his face, smash the turian's head against the floor, causing him to stop struggling as unconsciousness overcame him.

Then she spotted Dextra run towards the VIP section of the Afterlife, a badly bleeding human of the field team collapsing in his wake, several bullet wounds visible on his upper body. Their first casualty.

"He's getting away," she called as she climbed over the bar all the while seeing two more mercenaries push their way through the crowd fleeing from the brawl, coming form the way Dextra was fleeing.

"Go after him," Redford replied as he turned nodded towards the new foes, a batarian and a vorcha, while pulling a pistol from behind his back. "I've got them!"

She nodded her understanding and shot of into the direction, too fast for either of the mercenaries to make a move who, unlike her, had to fight the tide of people coming towards them.

Her eyes stayed focus on Dextra right until the door separating the normal part of the Afterlife from its more exclusive section shut behind him, a red hologram in front of it marking it as locked. Someone was giving him a hand. Cursing under her breath, she brought up her omni-tool, still geared out with all the tech programs from when she had been an agent of the Council, and began to look at the safety measures of the door. By the looks of it, someone had triggered a 'vacuum exposure' alert within the door's system. This was a rather easy fix.

She overwrote the warning and the doors, mere moments before she would've ran into them, opened once more to reveal a red plated krogan wearing Blood Pack armor and carrying a Claymore shotgun standing in her way. Behind him people were pouring out of the VIP section, a familiar turian among them.

Great.

The pragmatic choice would've been to sidestep the shot but the crowd of people behind her would inevitably be hit by the shotgun's pellets. Neither did they wear some of the best body protection money could buy in form of Spectre's armor, nor were they shielded by a military-grade kinetic barrier generator or a naturally generated biotic mass effect field.

She was rather sure her gear could take the blow. Rather. A few years back she wouldn't have taken the chance.

Collateral Damage was part of being a Spectre and the mission came above everything else. The Claymore was a weapon that could easily shatter both her biotic and kinetic barrier, putting her and the mission at risk. She would've simply dodged the shot and allowed the pellets to unleash their deadly force on the civilians that would be caught in the cross fire.

Now she decided that being on the right side meant to be willing to take that risk.

The krogan pulled the trigger with a smirk on his face and her kinetic barriers were shattered in an instant. However her biotic one held, the pellets destroyed upon impact with the kinetic shield which would need some time to reassemble itself. This had bought her enough time because for all its power, the Claymore had one flaw. It could only fire once before overheating.

Krogan short sightedness at its best.

While firing her Carnifex, she began to use her biotics to decrease her own weight, allowing her to accelerate right until she was on top of the krogan who frantically tried to pull the trigger of his shotgun again, the safety within the Claymore which kept it from exploding in his hand refusing to grant him another shot. As she closed the distance she began to fire her pistol, causing the krogan's kinetic barriers to collapse. Once that was done, she fixed her pistol to her hip and kept sprinting.

Then ,when she was just about to make contact, she stopped to decrease her own weight and focused all of her biotic potential, which was among the highest in the known galaxy, into a single punch.

Her right fist cracked against the krogan's softer facial structure and mere moments later her left hand unleashed a shockwave to the krogan's upper body that was sure to cause major internal bleeding, rupturing organs, blood vessels and everything else in its path.

Anyone else would've been dead or dying by now but her foe wasn't anyone else.

He was a krogan.

He wasn't dying, he was starting to get angry.

Blood rage was the evolutionary response to living on an irradiated Tuchanka. Formerly a rare condition, the gene triggering it had become incredibly common within the krogan population after the self-inflicted nuclear holocaust of their home world. It allowed an injured krogan to simply blend out pain while large volumes of adrenaline flooded their system, putting them into a state in which they would fight until their entire body was dead. It turned them into incredibly resilient, violent fighting machines. However all of that came at a price. Both their logic and their self-control took a turn for the worse once the blood rage began.

At this moment, the krogan didn't need logic nor self-control to be a danger to everyone inside Afterlife. He had to be put down and as Tela spotted a glimps of Dextra stumbling out the VIP exit she realised that it had to be fast.

Dodging the Claymore the krogan was now using as a club, which would've been ready to fire again, she stopped shooting at the krogan who was starting to tear the place around him apart. Summoning all of her biotic energy, she threw a warp, a rapidly shifting mass effect field that shredded everything it came into contact with, at the krogan's already injured face. It connected and the field started to tear away skin, tissue and muscle. Blood began to drip from the krogan's face as the mass effect field destroyed his eye but true to the condition he was currently in, he kept coming at Tela with animalistic grunting as the warp field dispersed itself, revealing a large wound in the krogan's face, his bones somewhat visible underneath layers of blood.

This was going to be messy.

A single round of her Carnifex wouldn't do the job quick enough and it was still close to overheating by now anyway. The number of shots she would require wouldn't be able to be fired in the time she needed them to be fired.

So her hand went for one of the salarian-made sticky grenades she had favoured ever since first working with STG.

She armed the small device and put all her faith into the stasis she threw at the krogan. It engulfed him in purple and if he hadn't been under the influence of blood rage, he wouldn't have been able to move at all. The adrenaline flooding his system was the only thing that allowed him to keep making small, slow steps towards Tela.

But she only needed him to slow down enough to be unable to react in time.

She jumped forward and before the krogan could grab her, she pushed the sticky grenade into the hole on the krogan's face that the warp field had created. Then she hurled herself into the direction of the exit all the while pushing her biotics to the limit.

The krogan's head behind her exploded in a mess of orange coloured pieces and dropped to the ground while a good fourth of his upper body, including his arms and both of his hearts, were destroyed in the blast.

Aria would have to replace most of the furniture in this place.

Not wasting any more time on thinking about the mess she just made, Vasir sprinted out of the VIP section and was greeted by the sight of a small crowd of people frantically running away from the club.

Fortunately the turian agent had decided to wear orange and blue. While the colours may have looked casual and most certainly hid body armor underneath, they were also incredibly easy to spot.

She saw Dextra make a run for it and began to follow him. Biotic energy manifested itself around her as she reached for her Carnifex and fired off a single round to disperse the people in front of her.

Once they were gone she launched herself at the turian. Normally the point of the attack was to massively increase your weight and reinforce your barriers before impact. This time she did neither.

As her non-lethal version of the biotic charge was realised, Tela smashed into Dextra and caused him to stumble forward while dropping his own gun, bloodying his face even more than before. She got to her feet and turned the turian around with a rather forceful kick, casually swatting away the knife he had pulled with her armored boot the moment she spotted it. Then she leveled her Carnifex at him.

"Dextra, you always were a moron but did you seriously think you could run away from a biotic?"

The turian offered nothing but silence as he was held at gunpoint by the former Spectre. Mere moments later she heard someone run up behind him.

"Friendly," Redford called as he stepped past her and began to restrain the turian. "We best get out of here, Aria looked pretty angry when I booked it."

"The agent that got shot?" Tela asked.

"Didn't make it," the specialist replied grimly. "The rest of the team grabbed his body and they'll meet us at the evac point."

"Let's get off this rock," Tela said as Redford lifted the turian to his feet, his bloody face displaying a mixture of fear and anger.

"Agreed. You better be worth it, you hear me mate?" the specialist said as he began to shove the turian in a way that, if the change of facial expression was anything to go by, was rather painful.

"If you think I'm talking you're delusional," the turian spat back.

"We got our ways," the specialist ensured him as they hurried towards their extraction point.

"Of co-"

The sarcastic reply of the turian was cut short as a round fired from somewhere in front of them caused a blue mist to shoot out of his head as silvery bits of the turian's brain stained Reford's face. The shot, which had only missed the specialist due to pure chance, destroyed most of Dextra's head in a gory explosion and both Redford and Tela shared a look before reacting.

True to their training both the specialist and the former Spectre herself darted to the sides the moment they realised what had happened, trying to escape the snipers field of vision in the process. Dextra's nearly decapitated corpse fell to the ground as Redford let go of it and a blue flow of blood swiftly started running through the dirty streets of Omega.

"Bloody hell," she heard Redford curse as she risked a peak, seeing the alleged killer jump across the gap between two roof tops, disappearing in the smog that lingered in the distance.

"No way we're catching him," Tela commented.

"The Broker shot his own guy," Redford said with disgust as he left his cover and glanced at the corpse. "He was our only lead."

"We have to get out of here," she reminded him as she turned around to see one of Aria's enforcers walk towards them with a fierce glare on his face. "Now."

The specialist turned away from the corpse and began to run, Tela following close behind.

Today they had lost.

* * *

 **7\. April 2390 AD, Cronos Station**

"Another dead end," the chancellor muttered through the projector as the director of Section 13 finished their private briefing. "Or rather dead turian."

"The Shadow Broker as evaded capture at the hands of the Council ever since they became aware of his existence," she replied. "There are reasons for that."

"What do we do now?" Noé asked as he leaned back in his chair.

"Not much we can do right now, Sir," she stated dryly. "We wait until we get another opportunity to get to him."

"I don't really like the idea of waiting for the Shadow Broker to take another shot at us."

"Neither do I, Sir," she said. "Harper already informed me that Cerberus is being 'ever vigilant'," she quoted with a chuckle.

"Here's to hoping that he finds the bastard," the chancellor said as he raised a glass of liqour with his blue, holographic hands and took a sip of the beverage. "Moving on to more pressing matters," he began, "tell me you got something on Kamarov."

"Nothing major," the director replied gravely, "the raid on his Cobalt dump certainly bought us some time but IFS activity as a whole remains dangerously mediocre."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the chancellor replied, apparently confused at the phrase.

"Elysium was always a major separatist hub but recently the local cells have grown more passive. In the past not a month went by without some arrests but the last few weeks? Nothing," she explained. "Multiple separatist cells simply went dark, our insiders were cut out of the picture, regular meeting spots are deserted and known associates of the IFS have vanished of the face of Elysium."

"They are planning something," Noé said.

"They are always planning something, Sir," the director corrected him. "This one might be bigger."

"You think Kamarov will blow up another one of his bombs?" Noé said with worry in his voice.

"Kamarov's a deranged lunatic with a sense of perfectionism. He won't build a bomb that doesn't include Cobalt-60. He needs his 'signature'," the director argued. Having been in charge of hunting the Butcher of Elysium meant that she was the leading 'expert' when it came to understanding Andrej Kamarov. "I'm afraid his cells are going to something more conventional."

"Unification Day is coming up," the chancellor spoke and he took another sip. "Fantastic," he added sarcastically.

The day was the only holiday universally celebrated on all human worlds, since every colony mankind had founded up to date was part of the Human Systems Alliance. The day, first celebrated on 5.5.2151, would have its 239th incarnation in less than a month with preparations on major colonies and Earth itself already well under way.

However it was a sad reality that Unification Day, the day which had marked the first time all of humanity had been rallied under a single government, had turned form an idealistic holiday into a tempting target for separatism. After all, if one wanted to strike out against a government they considered to be 'oppressors', why not do it on the day it formally claimed as its birthday?

The IFS had made it a point to outlaw the celebration of Unification Day under its own occupation and ever since losing the Fringe Wars multiple attempts had been made to commit acts of terror during the celebrations.

Precisely because of that reason they couldn't simply call of the celebration, it would play into the IFS's hands even more, reinforcing their picture of a weak HSA.

"Special Forces and HSAIS resources on Elysium are already on high alert," the director assured him. "We're keeping our ear to the ground, Sir."

"Keep me posted."

"If there's nothing else, I need to attend another meeting," the director spoke.

"Don't let me keep you from your other duties," Noé chuckled as his hologram vanished.

"Now, tell me about this report," the director spoke once the line had closed itself.

"We shouldn't keep him in the dark about this any longer," Tao Rei urged her as he emerged from the shadows of her office, the light of Anadius revealing him to the director. The specialist, besides his other duties, had been put in charge of investigating the true origin of the two Object Omnicrons that had been encountered in 2379 and 2388 and with hunting down any other that may exist. He was here to summarize the latest findings of the task force. In his words there had been an 'interesting development'.

"Report," she reminded him.

"Cerberus received footage shot by an STG team deployed to a world in the Hades Gamma Cluster. Attached to it was a batarian report that the team retrieved on its mission." The Hades Gamma, the area of space it belonged to, was a region bordering both batarian and human space close to the Attican Traverse.

"STG? How," she demanded to know. The agency wasn't exactly known to make mistakes. They had been at this for far too long to make such trivial mistakes.

"We have reason to believe that they wanted us to see this."

"Why?"

"We don't know. We only know the source that sent it our way was most likely salarian. So was the attached encryption code."

"Which planet?" the director asked, not lingering on the fact that the salarian Special Task Group wanted them to get this.

"Jartar," the name rang a bell. It had been under batarian lockdown for some time now. "What did they find?"

"See for yourself," the specialist said as he handed her the tablet. What it displayed was eerily to say the least.

"They are calling it the 'Leviathan of Dis'," the specialist spoke.

If one managed to look beyond the damage caused by the crash and the environment and the difference in size and shape it shared the same general design of an Object Omnicron. Purple, sleek metal was covering its surface in an almost organic looking design and there was a certain sinister feeling to. The scorch marks and something that resembled mass accelerator impacts did well to hide the similarity at first but once someone had made the connection, it was obvious.

This thing and the objects shared a common ancestry.

"I think the similarity speaks for itself," he added. "They found it inside a crater and as far as the report goes they believe it to be 'genetically engineered'."

"So it's organic?" the director asked with a hint of doubt in her mind.

"Partially at least. They aren't so sure about it either."

"Does it share the cybernetics found insome exposed to an Object Omnicron?"

"No the batarian's would've been able to figure out simple implants. They just managed to reconstruct a partial DNA sample. Unknown DNA. They have no idea what exactly it is that they found, they just know that this 'Leviathan' has traces of Eezo on it. Eezo doesn't naturally appear on Jartar."

"So its a ship," that would explain the scorch marks and weapon impacts. Most likely this 'Leviathan' had sustained damage in form of mass accelerator fire in a skirmish above Jartar that had proved critical enough to cause it to crash, hence the scorch marks and impact crater.

"It's a ship of whoever built the Omnicrons," the specialist corrected. "But that's not the worrying part."

"What is?" she sighed. This day was getting better by the minute.

"It's at least one billion years old."

"Come again?"

"The batarian scientists who wrote that report were equally confused by that detail. In fact they ran the test thrice. All three times resulted in that age," the specialist said as he remembered the report. "Whoever built that ship has been around for at least one billion years."

"And that means the Omnicron's creators are most likely at least as old," the director concluded. "We both know what this implies about Harbinger."

"Ma'am?" the specialist asked.

"The Omnicron on Shanxi wasn't close to one billion years old. Carbon dating put its at only 100.000 years," she explained with a hint of frustration in her voice as she recalled the analysis of the small fragment she had given to a science team. The piece of alloy had survived the Omnicron's destruction and had been studied for a few days before being sealed in the HSA's vault which also served as a storage location for other alien artifacts found during its expansion into space, some of which were slowly being sent to the Citadel Council for study, according to the laws dictating prothean technology. However 100.000 years wasn't close to one billion years although it was far older than the ruins of Mars, which were estimated to be 'only' 48.000 years old.

"You're afraid that they've been deployed before," Rei concluded. "Multiple times."

"Track down whoever sent you this. Don't reach out to STG itself, this might be a leak after all. Exposing our source would be counter-productive," she replied, not really answering the question. If the specialist had just spoken the truth, the implications about galactic history would be disturbing and unveiling at the same time.

"Yes, Ma'am," the specialist acknowledged as he waited to be dismissed.

"And Rei?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I think the time for revelations is slowly closing in on us. Dismissed," the Widow Maker spoke as she considered his advice.

The agent shot her a quick salute before turning on his heel and walking out of the door, most likely to execute her orders. She returned to looking at the star Cronos Station was orbiting for a few moments before getting back to work herself. She couldn't take care of 'Harbinger' for now but she could ensure that Kamarov would be taken care of before he got another chance at sharing his 'art'.

* * *

 **2132 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

Desolas sat in the office, his XO Melion already well asleep, and once more looked over the recordings of his run in with the artifact, a habit he had tried to kill time and again, unsuccessfully. He always found himself returning to that fateful day and its implications, the visages of the creatures it had created still flashing through his dreams every other night.

Some things you just couldn't shake, no matter how hard you tried.

While TNI had made little progress on the matter in the last year, mostly spending its time chasing the trail that had led the pirates to Jartar in the first place and revisiting known prothean sites, STG had delivered the most important piece of evidence as of yet. In a daring operation they had managed to infiltrate Jartar, its lockdown somewhat loosening in face of the effort the batarian navy placed on blockading other planets. On the planet, hidden inside a crater only recently mapped by a batarian survey team, they had discovered the remains of a large 'corpse'. Neither the STG team nor the report they had acquired from the batarian research outpost located near the site were quite sure what exactly they had recorded but that didn't change the importance of the event.

Not only had the footage of STG resulted in the Primarch of Palaven himself once more returning to the case, previously dismissing its importance compared to more present threats like slavers or the Batarian Hegemony's questionable blockades of seemingly random worlds. It had also resulted in him hearing out his plan in the first place. Now subtle steps were being taken to ensure that the Hierarchy would be able to gather knowledge about this Harbinger.

Furthermore the fact that he had decided against sentencing Desolas for treason for sharing this information with an STG agent had been a nice addition as well.

After facing the Primarch of Palaven, TNI and the salarian 'councilor', the proxy through which the Hierarchy was working with parts of STG, had agreed that the time to pool together their knowledge with the other group they knew to be aware of the artifacts had come.

The bleeping transmission of his omni-tool informed him that his friend on the Council had made sure that the footage of this 'Leviathan' had reached the human group working on the matter.

Contacting Cozek had been the right move. This much was evident.

However there was also another part that was important to his plan of preparing the galaxy for whatever Harbinger was.

Saren.

His younger brother would soon finish Blackwatch training, his aptitude scores even better than Desolas had expected them to be at this point, and apply to become a Spectre. Once Saren had obtained the rank, Desolas and him could make preparations for a human Spectre, an important step to becoming a member of the Council and in turn keeping their dreadnoughts.

Once the matter of maintaining the galactic naval power was taken care of, the groups and politicians aware of this matter could decide on how to act from there.

For now Desolas's simply had to assure that they'd get there.

As curiosity got the better of him, the general decided to look into the training schedule of Saren's class and a chuckle escaped his mandibles as he read their next station.

Survival training on Kruljaven was generally known as one of the hardest parts of Blackwatch training. The world, strangely similar to Khar'shan for a very political reason, was infamous for forcing the trainees to apply everything they had learned, wildlife, native and seeded by the Hierarchy alike, and rough weather only adding to the task.

Normally he should be worried about his younger brother but he was confident in his Saren's ability to handle this challenge as well. It was a pity that he'd have to let such a promising operator escape Blackwatch's claws. The young turian was breaking records set centuries ago for reasons only the legion's spirit truly knew.

Furthermore the mental image of Saren sitting out one of Kruljaven's famous rainfalls while questioning why the mechs that they were supposed to hunt for training purposes had batarian faces painted on them was a rather amusing one.

He couldn't really blame the Hegemony for calling everything about Kruljaven a 'provocation and insult to the batarian people', it was after all simply true.

Contraty to believe, the Turian Hierarchy had a sense of humor,be it a rather morbid one.

* * *

 **10\. April 2390 AD, Citadel**

"I won't be able to make it, I'm sorry. Something else is getting in the way of it," Alec sighed as he spoke to his wife through the use of the embassy's communication network. Normally he had gotten into the habit of saving his leave for holidays and birthdays. This year the recent events had resulted in all leave of Section 13 personal being canceled. It was part of the job.

"Work?" Hannah asked, the simple question included if he could talk about it or not. It was something they had agreed on very early. In his line of work, he simply couldn't share most of what he did with his family. For their own safety.

"Yeah, it's been a few busy days."

"At least your present made it on time," his wife joked. "Don't beat yourself up about this."

"It's just, I feel like I'm missing a lot of things," he muttered. "First steps, now birthdays."

"Once Emily's old enough, she'll understand. For now we should just take what we get."

Looking to his left, he looked at a file that reminded him of his secondary assignment on the Citadel. Keeping track of the Shadow Broker's agents, Barla Von being one of them. He pinched his nose and forced work back into its compartment within his brain. Not now.

"Although I have to say, I'm getting the feeling you're using our daughter as an excuse to buy things you normally couldn't buy without being laughed at," Hannah chuckled. "You have to stop with the oversized stuffed animals, Alec."

"Running out of places to put them?" he replied with a smug tone. "Don't worry, I'll switch to model ships once she's old enough."

"As I've said, using our daughter as an excuse to buy stuff you actually want to play with."

"Now I'd deny that, but that sweat Kodiak to my left kind of reinforces your theory," he said as he lifted the model into view. Originally it had begun as a way to kill time and to silence Goyle about how empty his room looked, then he had started to enjoy it.

"You're unbelievable," he heard her chuckle.

"It's part of my charm."

"Is it?" she mocked him. "Guess I missed that memo."

"You'll be the death of me, woman."

"It's getting late on Arcturus," she said. "I should go."

"Same on the Citadel."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Being married slowly showed him parts of his job he didn't enjoy. He shut the terminal down and dropped on his bed, exhausted.

* * *

 **4\. May 2390 AD, Elysium, New Illyria**

"The preparations have been made, Surgeon," his assistant informed him. "As you've asked, the most devoted members of our cause are ready to act."

"Good," Kamarov replied as he added the latest piece the benefactor had sent him to his masterpiece. The signal booster would ensure that none of the HSA's jamming technology would keep him from setting off his work. They had developed quite a lot of counter measures against his methods over the years. They had prevented him from acting before, now he had a work around.

He had been ordered to act as a distraction, keeping less important operations going while putting off on dealing major blows against the HSA.

He had decided to ignore that order and it had worked.

In preparations for his grand comeback, he had ordered every IFS cell to go dark and rid itself of all members who didn't agree with his own views while hiding the most important one's, drawing the HSA's attention towards Elysium in the process. His fellow colleague was sure to disapprove of his 'disobedience' but the results spoke for themselves. The HSA's attention was focused on Elysium while he worked on whatever he was working on.

Not that his opinion really mattered. He'd put a bullet into the guy once the HSA was toppled. No one kept the Butcher of Elysium in the dark, let alone put him on a leash. After that he'd have a little 'chat' with that benefactor of his.

"Surgeon?" the voice tore him out of his thoughts and back to reality.

"What?" he replied as he fixed the device in place.

"I asked if I should give the go-ahead for the operation now."

"Yes, tell them to execute the plan," the HSA would bleed and all those who were obedient to it would bleed with it. Sure, this operation would decimate the cells on Elysium but new recruits would flock to them afterwards. The propaganda regarding this event had already been created, the posters were printed, the transmissions filmed, the statement written.

This would send a clear message. They would either join the IFS or they would die alongside the HSA.

He had even decided to star in one of the clips, reading the statement. It was after all time to give the insurgency a face again. He was tired of being dead. The red flag with a white heptagon printed on it, a reminder of the original Separatist Seven who had first dared to rise against the HSA, still hanging on the wall behind him from his recording session. Given the importance of this day, he almost expected his assistant to say the next words.

"For the Fringe."

"For the Fringe," he repeated the words that had stayed with them through years of oppression.

Even the HSA couldn't kill an idea, no matter how hard it tried.

The communicator deactivated itself and he once more began to hide the pieces of his scrambler.

* * *

 **5\. May 2390 AD, Elysium, Colonial Watch Garrison 'Fort Barker'**

"We should be outside getting wasted," Cosmo spoke as he leaned against the wall, his cap firmly placed on his head, covering dark brown hair, "or outside shooting Iffys."

"This may be the only time I agree with you," a deeper voice replied from above.

"What have you done to the real Basilisk, you bastard?" he said as he turned towards the dark-skinned man sitting on the top bunk.

"Killed him and buried him in a shallow grave," he chuckled.

"I like this Basilisk more."

"How about you do something useful with your time?" the third man in the room said as he pushed his body of the ground again, completing yet another push up.

"Not all of us have a PT-fetish, Icer," he said as the blonde man shot him a glare with the steel-blue eyes that suited his nickname. Icer turned on his back and began to do sit-ups, not yet satisfied with his training.

"Maybe if you had one, you wouldn't need to get drunk to have a chance with woman."

"It's just more fun that wa-"

The sudden blaring of the garrison's alarm and the sound of their commanding officer bursting through the door interrupted his snarky comment and the three of them turned towards the asian man now standing in the doorway.

"Get your asses in gear. Now," Predator said before shooting of into the direction of the armory, his squad close behind him.

"What's happening, boss?" Basilisk asked as they stormed through the door of the room housing their armor and weaponry, swiftly beginning to put on the modular pieces of the green armor as other members of their unit were doing the same.

"Command's mobilizing ASOC. A stolen shuttle ignored the no-fly zone, got clipped by a Hornet and flew straight through two skyscrapers," the soldier said as he strapped on his right arm guard.

"Sounds like a job for the fire department, Sir," Basilisk argued while shoving a SIS-8 into the holster on his left leg.

"The shuttle served to divide our attention, IFS began attacking New Illyria's suburbs the moment the shuttle crashed. Forces of the 24th Armored Division are busy securing the city centre while the 101st and 212th Infantry Regiments are reacting in the suburbs. We're deploying to react to critical situations,"

"Damn," Cosmo commented while fixing his chest piece in place.

"I thought you wanted to shoot Iffys?" Icer asked while attaching a DMR-7 to his chest rig.

"Not like this man," the man with dark brown hair replied as he tossed his cap on the desk and put on his helmet. "Not like this."

"Do we know how many Iffys?"

"Hundreds, multiple districts are under attack."

"This is what they've been planning, isn't it?" Basilisk said as they rushed out of the door and towards the airfield. They ran through the corridors, now abuzz with activity as the alarm caused people to rush to their assigned posts, and soon enough the four men burst out on the air strip, the engine's of a green Kodiak already warming up as the co-pilot waved at them.

They jumped into the transport, this one a new UT-90A, and the craft shot up to the sky, its doors closing and the outside camera's turning on, the screens that acted as windows showing them what was happening beyond the shuttle.

"Five minutes," the Kodiak pilot informed them as the shuttle added itself to a formation of nine other Kodiaks. While most of Elysium's Colonial Watch was stationed near New Illyria within the units headquarters, ASOC had been quartered in Fort Barker which was located further away from the capital. Therefore the Kodiak would require some time to reach New Illyria.

Once they got closer to the city, the damage became evident. Large pillars of smoke were rising from multiple locations and an inferno was raging from two medium sized glass giants in the center of the city, gushing wounds within their superstructure clouding the sky with black smoke as Elysium's fire department was trying its hardest to evacuate the higher levels of the building through the use of its own modified shuttles.

"HSASV Agincourt is breaching atmosphere," they heard the co-pilot speak as a large, green frigate slowly crept out of the sky above New Illyria, the white writing 'Agincout' clearly visible on its hull. The frigate had most likely been ordered to descend and enforce the no-flight zone with its point defense systems, preventing any interruptions of the rescue process.

"Ghost Squad, this is command," a female voice spoke within their helmets. "You're being rerouted to Kirk Country."

With that the shuttle took a sharp turn to the right as other Kodiaks broke from the formation as well, no doubt ordered to different suburbs.

"Elements of the 101st Infantry Regiment are requesting your assistance," the woman went on. "Insurgents fleeing from one of their patrols have withdrawn into a clinic, overwhelming its security," the projector within the Kodiak displayed the building, four stories and roughly ten rooms per floor. The small building served as the medical hub of the neighbourhood, treating minor injuries and less serious accidents locally. "They've got hostages," she added, confirming their fear that it was occupied. "The clinic had at least twenty people inside it, staff and patients."

"Hostile numbers?"

"Unknown but at least ten, more likely twenty."

"Going in blind then," Cosmo frowned as the shuttle began to slow down and its doors opened to the sound of gunfire, blue and orange flashes identifying who was friend and who was foe as they exchanged fire down on the street.

"Drop us on the roof," Predator spoke as he walked up to the pilot compartment, getting a good look of the neighbourhood. The stealth engines of the UT-90A would allow them to land on the roof undetected.

"101st is getting their teeth kicked in," Icer observed as a soldier was dragged behind a badly shot up APC by his comrades below, blood leaking from his leg as the machine gun team of the unit poured rounds into a store up ahead, blue flashes coming from its windows as the insurgents returned fire.

"Can't use our heavy ordnance here, civilians aren't fully evacuated. Some are still hunkered down in their houses," Cosmo observed as he spotted a group of soldiers leading a family to another, intact armored vehicle. "The Iffys don't give a fuck about that though," Cosmo reasoned as an explosion sounded in the distance, causing the soldiers to shove the family into the back of the vehicle before its driver stepped on the gas to get them out of the crossfire, leaving the fireteam without vehicle support as it rushed into another house.

The IFS cells on Elysium had a reputation for being particularly ruthless. In their mind anyone who didn't fight for them was a legitimate target, soldier or not. They were radicals even by the standards of the IFS. The sight of both civilians and armored figures laying dead on the street once more confirming their mindset.

"How did this happen?" Basilisk questioned as the shuttle touched down on the white building towering over the small neighbourhood.

"Someone fucked up," Icer offered as he jumped out of the door, scanning his surroundings.

"No, they've been planning this for a long time. Take a guess why they laid low the entire time," Predator explained as the Kodiak shot of into the sky, no doubt ordered to help with evacuating the two burning skyscrapers in the distance.

"They've been storing up on weapons, laying the ground work for this. Get the door, Basilisk," he ordered as Basilisk tried the lock before forcing it open with a single kick.

"Optical camo," Predator said as their armor slowly turned invisible, reducing them to mere flickers of light only the keenest of observers would be able to spot. The technology, made much more efficient ever since first contact with Council, was the telltale gear of ASOC. Unlike their naval counterpart, they operated on a much smaller scale, relying on the element of surprise and near invisibility to achieve their goals. Previously fast movements would've caused the camouflage to fail but technological advances now allowed them to move much faster.

Sneaking through the corridors, the first thing he spotted on the ground was blood.

Loads of blood leading into a room.

Basilisk began to walk towards it as he blended out the sound of gunfire coming from the level below them. Then he heard the voices.

"If he dies, I'll put a bullet into your patient over here," a voice threatened. At least one insurgent in the room then. By the sound of it he was forcing the clinic's personal to treat one of their injured.

"He's lost a lot of blood," another voice, most likely a doctor or a nurse, argued as he took a peak into the room. Raising two fingers, he informed his unit of the number of foes and spun around the corner.

Inside the room one insurgent was arguing with a doctor about the state of the second Iffy lying on a blue flatbed, a large bullet wound causing blood to leak from his leg´as the doctor was trying his best to stop the bleeding. Meanwhile a third insurgent was pointing a mass accelerator at a patient sitting on a chair, a half finished sling around his arm indicating that the man had recently broken it and had come to the clinic looking for help.

"At least let me get some medigel!"

"I ain't falling for that, you have that stuff somewhere around here. Get it," the insurgent said as he poked the doctor with his rifle.

"This is a room treating fractures, not a gunshots. There's no medigel in here. Let me get it from the sup-"

The doctor was interrupted as a round of Basilisk's rifle shot clean through the first Iffy's head, mere moments before he double-tapped the second one holding the injured patient at gunpoint. The insurgents collapsed and both him and his dead comrade started to add to the blood that had already collected around the insurgent lying on a red-stained bed.

"Lock yourself in here," Basilisk spoke as the doctor jumped, taking some moments to realise that someone was actually standing in front of him, the hovering pistol of the dead insurgent being handed to him while the soldier reached for something on his chest rig. "We'll sent someone to come and get you once the area is clear."

"This man will die," the doctor said as he composed himself and pointed at the paling insurgent, apparently familiar with the concept of optical camouflage and not grabbing a hold of the pistol. "He needs blood, medigel and a real hospital."

"We can't let you walk out of here. Take this," Basilisk spoke as he pressed a pistol and a syringe of military-grade medigel into the doctor's chest. "Try your best but don't leave this room. If an Iffy gets in here, point, aim and shoot. We will come and get you once everything is safe."

His gesture seemed to have an impact on the doctor as Basilisk stepped outside of the room and heard the door lock.

The four man unit pressed on through the building, clearing each room of the upper level one after another but not encountering any more patients or insurgents. Once the level had been swept, they moved down through the use of the stairway and quickly cleared the entry to this floor as they spotted a large group of clinic staff and patients kneeling on the ground behind the glass window of a waiting room, several separatists watching over the hostages inside while at least five others were firing out of the windows further ahead, no doubt gunning for the forces of the 101st Infantry.

"That's where everyone went," Cosmo observed. The separatists had gathered the rest of the clinic's staff and patients in one room. It made sense, this way they could limit the number of people they had to dedicate to guard duty, allowing more of them to fight.

"Icer, Cosmo, you take the guys on the left," Predator ordered. "Basilisk, with me."

The group divided itself and while two of them began to position themselves to swiftly dispatch the two separatists pointing their rifles at the group of hostages, the other two snuck closer. This was a rather risky situation. They had to take all for of them out at the same time but the sound of their comrades dying could easily draw the attention of the Iffys currently engaging HSA forces outside of the clinic.

They would have to dispatch these four and immediately turn their attention to the rest to ensure that the civilians wouldn't be caught in the cross fire, these insurgents didn't care if they killed the people held hostage. They were most likely just looking for an excuse to do so.

"In position," Predator whispered as he leaned around the corner of the door, the barrel of his gun pointed at the chest of an insurgent wearing body armor and carrying a kinetic barrier generator underneath casual clothing. Apparently they had wandered the crowd before attacking.

He'd have to put a few more rounds into him to take him down.

"I got mine," Basilisk informed them.

"Targets in sight, boss." Cosmo said as both he and Icer waited for the go.

"Execute."

The four soldiers opened fire as the bullets shot out of their rifles, shattering kinetic barriers and armor in less than three seconds. Almost simultaneously the guards slumped to the ground and the squad spun around, hurrying towards the insurgents at the window, one of which was already turning around.

The ASOC team got the drop on them as well.

As rounds tore through the air, only one of the Iffys managed to get a shot into the general direction of them, the round impacting the ground near Cosmo's feet before the insurgent's chest exploded as one of the DMR-7 rounds punched through his heart. He collapsed against the wall, leaving a smear of blood as he slumped to the ground.

"This floor's clear," Predator said as they hurried back to the hostages. "Is everyone accounted for?" he roared as he disabled his optical camouflage."

"Doctor Simmons is missing," an elderly nurse replied with a calm voice. "But the rest of us were forced into this room."

"You're save now," Icer assured them as Predator turned away.

"Ghost Squad to elements of the 101st Infantry in the vicinity of Kirk County Clinic, we've got the hostages. Breach the first floor and work your way up to the third, we'll stay with them."

"Copy that Ghost Squad!" a voice called back through the radio, gunfire in the background suggesting that he was fighting outside the clinic.

Sure enough the sound of SR-7 fire soon erupted below them, drawing ever closer as the infantry unit fought the insurgents still holding the lower floors of the clinic.

With the advantage of their hostages gone, the army regulars soon overwhelmed the remaining defenders and a bloodied but alive sergeant walked through the stairway some five minutes later.

"We'll take them from here, Sir" he spoke as he saw the captain insignia's on Predator's armor.

"Copy that Sergeant," the leader of Ghost Squad replied. "Command, we've cleared the clinic, no casualties among the hostages. Over."

"Prepare to move, insurgents have barricaded themselves in Kirk County's police precinct. Over."

"Acknowledged, we're on our way. Ghost Squad over and out."

This would be a long Unification Day.

* * *

 _Codex: Army Special Operations Command_

 _The Army Special Operations Command of the Human Systems Alliance, commonly referred to as ASOC, acts as the first responding military special operations force in all human territories. Unlike the Naval Special Operations Command, N7, it is not attached to individual space vessels but instead maintains a presence on selected human worlds with sizeable populations that require a unit capable of completing assignments too dangerous for regular army units._

 _The unit, unlike N7, operates in smaller teams below platoon size and acts mainly as a counter-terrorism force in times of peace, defusing situations that would result in civilian casualties through the use of their optical camouflage, a technology that has been vastly improved ever since contact with the Citadel Council. The unit therefore places less emphasis on the brutal speed N7 favours, instead opting to remain silent for as long as possible._

 _Drawing most of their recruits from the army's elite reconnaissance units, the 26th Airborne Brigade stationed on Terra Nova, ASOC relies on skills already present in the people they recruit to complete their missions. However rumors suggest that the most promising recruits of Terra Nova's multiple military academies are fast-tracked into the Army Special Operations Selection Course 1, a process some have called 'questionable'._

 _ASOC's exact strength is unknown but it is generally believed that every developed human world, Earth and other core worlds aside, has access to at least one platoon of ASOC forces._

 _It should be noted that a member of ASOC, Lieutenant [redacted],played a major role in defending Mindoir from a batarian slavery raid in 2401._

* * *

 **A/N: So chapter 20. That's quite the milestone.**

 **Right now we're at 143 reviews, 326 favorites and 405 follows, not much of a gain since last time but I guess that happens sometimes. Can't really change it. Still appreciate the lot of you guys.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, a bit more action than last time but since there was basically no action last time, that's not really hard to do.**

 **Also the plot moves on! Haha!**

 **I'd appreciate reviews to know what you think about this chapter and where the story is going, I'll be honest, I'm way slower than I expected, I wanted to be in ME 1 by summer and yeah... nope, that's not happening. This is turning into a bigger project than I ever anticipated but that's cool, I enjoy the world I building and the plot that I've created.**

 **See you around next time.**


	21. Background Radiation

**Chapter 21. Background Radiation**

* * *

 **5\. May 2390 AD, Elysium**

The dark-orange sky, black smoke still setting over New Illyria, was slowly growing into a dark blue as the sound of battle was started dying down, their comrades being silenced one after another.

It wouldn't be in vain. There was a purpose behind their sacrifice.

Coming to a hold some 100 meters in front of the outpost's gate, he began his headcount. One on each of the towers, three in the gate area and at least five more green armoured figures visible in the vicinity of the storage bunker located near one of the towers, away from the barracks. Electrified fences, motion sensors, machine gun emplacements and two armored vehicles left behind in the vehicle pool were clearly visible inside the outpost.

This was most certainly the place, the home of an armored battalion currently deployed inside the city.

The HSA, as part of their continued occupation of the Fringe Worlds, had built dozens of these camps on the worlds that had dared to free themselves from its clutches. Their purpose ranging from simply providing shelter to their so called 'Colonial Watch' to storing gear which would only be required in the event of a planetary scale invasion force descending on a planet.

This site, while not nearly the size of the HSA's main garrison on Elysium, was such a place. A storage facility that held the object the Surgeon needed them to seize, a device that would help their cause in more ways than any of the men currently dying in New Illyria possibly could have. The lack of most guards and the abandoned barracks implying that the distraction had worked, he nodded towards his fellow separatist.

"If they trigger the alarm, reinforcements will be here in less then five minutes," his companion reminded him as she rose from their cover, one of the alien's weapons clutched in her hands as she aligned the scope with one of the guards on the tower.

"All the more reason to keep a low profile," he argued through the thin mask of the suit that would disguise him from most if not all sensors.

Shifting her aim to the other towers, she lingered for a moment before lowering the sniper rifle as the engines of an HSA shuttles howled above them, green crafts with red highlights shooting above their heads as they headed for New Illyria.

Waiting for a few moments, the couple of IFS assassins began to advance towards the main gate once they were sure the crafts were well out of reach. They moved silent but swift and soon they were mere meters away from the three HSA guards standing at the camp's entrance.

Every muscle in his body called for him to end them, to avenge some of the people who had already given their life for the cause but he ignored them. The HSA couldn't find out about their presence here until it was too late, dead guards would most certainly cause an investigation.

The assassins waited for the moment when one of the guards would turn just enough for them to slip by and when it came, they did just that. Appearing to the guard as mere shadows at the edge of his vision, the man turned just as they had passed through the small gap in the HSA's security and doubled back, shaking his head in the belief that he had simply imagined the two shadowy figures slipping past the barricade.

The two assassins entered one of the abandoned buildings, a mess hall by the looks of it, and began to sneak through the darkness, using it to stay invisible.

The HUD within his mask informed him that their target was coming ever close now, matching the picture of the map he had carved into his memory through hours of study. Only a few more meters through the mess hall, across the vehicle pool and towards the storage facility.

"Movement," his partner suddenly spoke as he readied the mass accelerator pistol in his hand while rolling under one of the tables.

The two soldiers were most certainly talking, their body language indicating that much, but their sealed helmets with the black visors that had earned them the nickname of faceless goons prevented the outside from listening in on their conversation unless they allowed them to. The couple moved through the cafeteria, assault rifles gripped in their hands and coming ever closer to the table he was hiding underneath, only his nerves preventing him from panicking as they passed by him, the heavy footsteps caused by their modular armor vibrating through the ground towards him.

Turning his head ever so slightly to track them he caught a glimpse of his companion creeping forward, heading for the door they had just entered the mess hall through. He decided to mirror her movements as the door the assassins had entered through was opened by the mute soldiers, leaving them alone once more and allowing him to roll out of his hiding place. The man pushed himself of the ground without making even the slightest sound before walking towards the door and slowly opening it.

"The storage is up ahead," he whispered through the thin yet resilient material that made up the mask he was wearing, "We get in, grab it and get out," he reminded his companion who nodded at his words and slipped through the door before him. After following her, he closed it behind himself so that it wouldn't raise any questioned and noticed three guards standing in front of the storage, jumping behind the same vehicle his fellow assassin had already used to hide from both the guards in front of them and the one on the tower who had turned into their direction just now.

"Front entrance won't work like this," she whispered back. "I'll draw them off, you sneak in."

"Don't get spotted, sound distraction only, are we clear?"

"Yes."

The woman next to him rolled underneath the armored vehicle and crawled away just outside the field of vision of the guards at the front entrance as he waited, observing the guard on the tower and the guards in front of the storage bunker in the process. Then the very audible sound of metal hitting on metal echoed through the outpost, causing the guards to raise their rifles before two of the walked away, the tower guard now even more focused on the lone soldier guarding the entrance.

He had to give it to the HSA, the IFS militias could certainly learn something from them in regards of perimeter security. They covered each other exemplary.

However exemplary wasn't good enough to keep him out. Once more drawing inspiration from his companion, he first rolled underneath the car and crawled through the blind spot of the guard standing in the watchtower, sneaking as close to the entrance as he could without being spotted.

Then he pulled one of the oldest tricks in the book, picking up a pieces of the gravel the outpost was standing on and throwing them towards the guard, causing him to turn towards the sound for just a few moments before deciding to investigate. Long enough for him to slip by as the tower guard most likely shifted his attention towards the same spot the entrance guard had walked towards.

The storage bunker was secured through a door that required a code to enter, an action that would be logged by the VI of this outpost. For this reason he brought up yet another alien tool, its normal orange glow turned dark red to reduce its visibility at night as he forced the door open through the use of a program that would hide its tracks while occupying the VI with another, more mundane task.

The aliens might be out for humanity's blood but they sure as hell were a good help for now.

The program, procured from the mercenaries that had aided them some years ago, wiped its own traces as the door opened up, the normal buzzing that would sound as a result being suppressed by it as well.

He entered the dark room and looked at the shelves as he passed by gear that would go a long way to help their cause. But none of the grenades, anti-tank or anti-air missile launchers, breaching charges or anti-material rifles were of any interest to him. The IFS already possessed more than enough of those in hidden caches created at the end of the Fringe Wars. He was here for something more important, something Elysium's cells hadn't been able to get their hands in the past due to the regulations placed on the item.

He looked at the shelf with replacement parts for vehicles, the small, grey coloured boxes within his reach, ten of them neatly stacked side by side.

He just needed two.

Retrieving the fake ones from the pack on his back, he placed them on the shelf to keep their number equal in case someone bothered to count after grabbing two of the real ones. After making sure that they fit into the neat row, he stepped back from the shelf.

"I've got the package," he whispered through the radio, a short buzzing being the only acknowledgement he received from his companion.

This particular part couldn't be salvaged from other vehicles without being flagged as 'stolen' or 'destroyed in combat' in HSA records, the Kodiak pilot that had sacrificed himself earlier proving that much. The oppressors were as possessive of their gear as they were of the Fringe Worlds. It was something they had learned the hard way, the main reason for the implementation of the flagging system being the fact that stolen vessels had been the separatist's ticket onto the space ports back in 2376.

However a factory new device, like the ones currently in his hands, could be used to replace the one inside a vehicle that had already been flagged, giving it a new set of identification codes, a set that wasn't flagged and would theoretically allow them entrance to any military installation if they could avoid other security measures as well.

Therefore this would go a long way for the next step of their plan. Obtaining a ship was much easier than obtaining a new military IFF. Ships could always be bought from the company producing them and be repainted to match an HSA craft or one could simply try to retrieve and repair a damaged vessel from the time of the Fringe Wars, just like they had done with the Kodiak that had set of the distraction, if they had the resources. The IFFs however were hard to come by.

"I need you to draw away the guards at the entrance," he spoke as he came to a halt in front of the door.

Then he waited, the identification devices now stored in the backpack strapped to his black armor, the alien pistol ready in his hands. Some minutes passed and then his radio came to life.

"They are gone, chasing my shadow."

"Acknowledged."

Putting his faith in the fact that his allies information was true, he once more ran the program that allowed him to open the storage facility'S door without triggering an alarm or the entry being logged on official records and found his faith to be rewarded as nothing but an empty door and the sight of the tower guard looking away.

The Surgeon would be pleased.

"Rally at the exit," he ordered as he moved along the wall of a building, using the mess hall as cover and hoping that the tower guards wouldn't spot him.

Then he froze in place as a green figure became visible once it turned the corner.

The assassin pressed himself against the wall of the mess hall as a soldier walked towards him, his head turned towards the other side of the fence, watching the outside of the camp. He came closer to him with every step, the SR-7 in his hand loaded but its safety still locked, small scratches on his armor visible as the assassin started to hold his breath to avoid making even the slightest sound as the faceless goon passed by him, almost touching him with the stock of his rifle, only a few centimeters and the fact that he was looking away keeping the assassin from being spotted.

The guard kept walking and the man allowed himself to breath again, swiftly moving away from the foe unaware of his presence. The gravel underneath his feet created a small sound every time he took a step a little to fast but he couldn't dwell on that detail for now, the exit already in sight, his companion waiting for him in the shadows.

The two linked up and turned towards the last obstacle on their journey, the three guards they had already passed by but something was off, a small vibration in his feet telling him that a convoy was closing in.

They couldn't already have killed all of their comrades, could they?

The sight of an armored convoy, the headlights of the first vehicle shining towards him as he took a peak answered that question all by itself.

"Damn," his companion cursed. "We're screwed."

"Follow my lead," he simply replied as he dropped to the ground and began to crawl, coming to a stop only as a figure stepped through the gravel in front of them.

He spotted the guard actually talking to the driver, different squad intercoms forcing them to converse in a more conventional manner.

"How's the situation in New Illyria?" the guard, apparently the officer in charge of the checkpoint, asked as he and his companion rolled into the blind spot of the vehicle, crawling underneath it with only a few centimeters of room above them.

"Bad," a deeper voice replied. "Most of the Iffys are dead by now but some pockets are still holding out, shooting anything that moves."

"Civilian casualties?"

"Still counting," the voice grew more distant as they crawled underneath another armored vehicle.

"Damn," the guard officer said as the two assassins barely avoided being spotted, racing against the inspection of each vehicle while trying to remains silent. Normally the officer should've caught up with them by now. Their crawl was slower than his pace but they were saved by their comrades for one final time.

"Corporal, your ride took a serious hit," the man ordered as he stopped after noticing the damage and knocking on the back of the armored personal carrier they had just left behind them. "Anti-material round went straight through your engine block. How the hell are you still driving?"

"The Hammerhead's a resilient bastard, Sir."

"More like a lucky bastard, check it out once you're inside. I'm no mechanic but I think you're driving on borrowed time."

"Yes, Sir."

Ignoring the rest of the conversation, the assassins passed the final vehicle and quickly made for the forest they had come from, their intention to reach the courier.

"Tell the Surgeon we got the IFFs," he spoke through the radio as the outpost vanished behind them. "He's got his way in."

* * *

 **8\. May 2390 AD, Arcturus Station**

Sitting down in his office chair, he drew a long, calming breath before his shoulders slumped down, the rest of his energy leaving his body after finishing yet another press conference.

6219.

That was the number of people who had met their demise at the hands of the IFS on Unification Day and it would've been an even bigger number if the attacks hadn't been limited to Elysium.

"I didn't expect you to come here in person," he said as he noticed the woman standing in the corner of his office, lurking in the darkness. "You didn't show in 2387 either."

"Back then was different," the woman replied as Noé lit up a cigarette. " This is different. For me, this is personal."

"I thought your type is supposed to be detached from these things? Let nothing get to you and all that spy stuff." Noé muttered as a small orange dot glowing between his fingers illuminated the otherwise dark office.

"My 'type' is also supposed to keep the people save, in that I failed."

"Please tell me this isn't turning into a 'I'm resigning' speech, we can hardly afford that one right about now," Noé said as the brunette woman sat down opposite to him.

"That would be running away and I don't run from my mistakes. I fix them."

"Can't bring the dead now, can you?" he argued as he exhaled a small cloud of smoke.

"I can avenge them."

"Most of the Iffys died in the crossfire and since Kamarov's still off the gri-"

"Kamarov made a mistake."

"Come again?"

"The smug bastard decided to star in one of the transmissions, meaning that someone received a file to broadcast in the first place," the director explained, "and in turn meaning that some IFS media genius was in contact with him or someone who's close to him."

"Well that limits our search perimeters to what? The whole Fringe?"

"Not exactly," the director said as she pressed a button on a remote, turning on the screen in front of the chancellor.

"This is not the way of our cause," a man with black hair said as he hung his head in apparent sadness, a red banner waving behind him as he once more looked up at the camera. "The IFS promised you to protect us from those who seek to harm us, those who seek our destruction as a people."

"They sure love their little clips, don't they?" Noé chuckled.

"And we won't let murderous thugs sully that promise," the spokesman went on. "The cells on Elysium, led by a misguided madman, have strayed too far from our path, they acted on their own behalf and without the knowledge of our leaders."

"They're doing damage control. Intel suggests that Elysium wasn't sanctioned by the other cells. Our informants on Shanxi had no idea this was happening and apparently one of Amaterasu's 'big shots'," she airquoted in a sarcastic manner, since Amaterasu had been one of the worlds on which the IFS had lost almost its entire footing in the wake of its defeat in 2381, "threw a fit the moment the attacks started. He's been questioning people ever since, believing that something is going on without him. If we get lucky the moron calls in on of our guys and we can finally get a fix on him."

"The IFS denounces each and everyone who would raise his weapons against an innocent human. We do not rule through terror, those who were fortune enough to live on the worlds we liberated from HSA's oppression are well aware of that," a series of pictures dated during the Fringe Wars, obvious propaganda pieces, replaced the spokes person. The shots displayed IFS militias meddling with the population of Shanxi, smiling faces and nice gestures meant to improve the separatists' image. An image now stained by the blood of the people of the Fringe they vouched to protect, blood spilled by a person they had been trying to paint in a better light for years.

"The IFS urges everyone who seeks to join our cause to do so outside of Elysium and urges all of the members of Elysium's resistance that didn't participate in this massacre to flee the planet. Your place is next to us, not to Kamarov."

"Kamarov did more damage to the IFS's reputation in one day than we managed in nine years," Noé commented darkly. "If I didn't want him dead so badly, I may even consider giving the guy a medal."

"Can't argue with that."

"So I take it that you showed me this to clarify that Kamarov's media guy is from one of Elysium's cells?"

"Yes."

"So we just have to find the propaganda guy of Elysium?"

"We already did. We know where he's recording."

"Come again?" the chancellor shot up, almost losing the cigarette between his lips in the process. "Explain. Now."

"Besides Kamarov's smug statement about how he'll destroy everyone who doesn't join him, they've been creating other propaganda pieces, the last one was just uploaded five hours ago," she began. "All of the videos were slideshows of pictures with a voiceover, so the creator would stay anonymous. But they all shared a small yet defining detail one analyst noticed when she decided to take a closer look at the broadcasting signal," the director explained. "While they managed to hide the actual place they are sending these videos from through their usual methods of scrambling and disguising, they made a rather crucial mistake," she explained. "They are broadcasting from a frequency no longer in use on Elysium, an old colonial frequency."

"I take it you got a location?"

"Unless the guy dragged all the stuff he needed to record into the the ruins of Illyria's museum, the only other place he could've had access to an antenna using this old frequency, he has to be on Peak Tavka," the director said as she pressed another button on the remote, the screen now displaying the installation on top of a mountain, an orange glowing generator connected to wires leading into the observatory visible through the thick cloud of snow typical for Elysium's higher, more alpine regions thanks to thermal vision. "This is an old observatory built on one of Elysium's more accessible mountain peaks during the early days of its colonialisation. It was abandoned when the retrofit turned out to be too expensive compared to simply building a new installation somewhere else. This picture was taken two hours ago by a reconnaissance drone, ASOC is already on its way, on my authority."

"You couldn't have saved me from a press conference?" Noé asked with a chuckle.

"It could have raised suspicion," the director replied. "Besides, it was you who gave Section 13 this power in the first place."

"It was a very long press conference," the chancellor sighed as he pressed a button on his computer that would summon the most important members of the government, they would soon be needed.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, Elysium, Peak Tavka**

"Right under our noses," Icer spoke as he pushed a magazine into the SR-8 before chambering a round. "Kind of embarrassing, really."

"They'll regret that move soon enough," Basilisk replied.

"Ninety seconds!" a voice from the pilots seat shouted. "Get ready."

"Bit chilly. Feeling at home yet, Icer?" Cosmo chuckled as he opened the Kodiak's doors, revealing another shuttle and their gunship escort in form of two A-83 Vultures flying left of them, white snow collecting on their front as the aircraft flew through the rough weather conditions, a large mountain caked in white, powdery snow visible beyond them.

Mass effect fields really made a lot of things easier, aviation among them.

"Nope, the altitude didn't help your attitude at all, Cosmo," Basilisk replied causing the other two members of Ghost Squad to snort.

"Look who decided to get a sense of humor," Cosmo muttered as he leaned out of the door, snow flakes collecting on his helmet and torso .

"One minute!"

"Well someone has to be the funny one, sure as hell isn't you," the ASOC soldier countered as he walked up to the doorway as well, preparing to fulfill his role as pointman.

"Forty seconds!"

"Non-lethal shots only, we don't know what the important guy looks like," Predator reminded the unit as the shuttle began to slow down.

"He's gonna look like a geek," Cosmo said. "They always do."

"Just look for the one Iffy who can't shoot straight," Basilisk added. "That's the tech guy. Tech guys can't shoot for shit."

"Twenty seconds!"

The unit lapsed into silence as they prepared themselves for an air assault, a rather risky move given that any separatist with a rocket launcher and decent aim could take the Kodiak down once it appeared from the heavy snowfall but the reward was most certainly worth it. While capable of climbing to the top of the peak, the process would've consumed time they may not have. After all, the propaganda detachment stationed on Peak Tavka may decide to pack up and leave at any time, evading capture in the process.

"Reaching LZ!" the pilot said as the Kodiak stopped in front of the observatory, a small metal platform meant for supply shuttles underneath them.

The ASOC soldiers jumped out of the Kodiak as the gunships began to circle the compound like their namesake, vultures. With the other team, Raider Squad, close on their heels, Basilisk was the first to reach the hinged door.

Usually explosive entrances weren't their style but this operation was hardly usual and the A-83s had thrown their stealth out of the window anyway.

Basilisk placed a small breaching charge on the door and waited for the man behind him, Predator, to give the signal. It came in form of two taps to the shoulder.

Pressing down the detonator, time began to slow as he broke through the frame, the surprised face of a separatist the first thing he spotted when entering.

His sights moved to the hand holding a gun and a squeeze of the trigger unleashed a round that found its mark in the separatist's hand, blood erupting from it as he dropped the gun but still stood in their way. Aiming lower, he fired a round through the man's knee, causing him to drop while the second man through the door dispatched another Iffy standing behind a console with a quick shot through each of his shoulders.

The eight soldiers pressed on, clearing the entry area to avoid being pinned down, just as the first IFS members rallied to return fire, mass accelerator rounds punching into Basilisk's shields as he dove behind a console, the sound of a round punching through metal drawing his attention. Peaking around, he saw an IFS separatist drop a smoking mass accelerator, a well placed shot originating from Icer disabled the weapon before another round tore through the man's left arm which had previously held the gun, putting him out of the fight for good.

"On your left," a member of Raider shouted as Basilisk turned, an insurgent making a move to flank him now in his sights. He squeezed the trigger, a round drilling straight through the man's hip not a second later. He collapsed, clutching the bleeding wound while screaming in pain.

A few more shots were fired around him and soon enough only anguished screams filled the observatory's main room.

"Clear," one called as he walked out of a room adjacent to the one Basilisk was in.

"Stop the Iffys from bleeding out and round them up for the shuttles," Predator ordered.

"Cosmo, you're with me," the captain went on as a separatist with a reddish beard, small white snowflakes still visible between the hair from a recent trip outside, glared at him while medigel was applied to his wounded arm. "Bag this one."

"With pleasure, boss."

"I think we just found our media-guy," he commented as the ASOC soldier restrained him, "Command, we got them. No casualties on either side. Over and out."

* * *

 **2132 CE, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

The meeting had originally been called to prepare a unified strategy for the upcoming discussion regarding the Treaty of Farixen, the law that dictated the number of dreadnoughts a species' navy could field, a topic which had been avoided the last few years due to a turian veto on the matter. In less than one standard month, the human representative, Ambassador Anita Goyle, would stand in front of this council and pick up the issue where it had been left five years ago, during a much different time.

However they had drifted away from the original topic some time ago, Ioventus and Benezia disagreeing on a crucial matter, whether the council should consider to making an exception in face of the obvious difference between the human government and the other civilizations that had signed the treaty in the past. The two had been stuck in a skirmish of words regarding the treaty itself for a quite some time.

In Ioventus's opinion, as with every turian councilor since the Geth War, the Treaty of Farixen was a risk to galactic security because it limited dreadnought production as a whole, the remnant of a more optimistic galactic society.

While the turians were allowed to construct the most vessels, they were just as bound by the number of ships the Salarian Union and the Asari Republics were willing to construct as the associates. The treaty, in an attempt to balance the power of the galaxy, allowed the Hierarchy to construct five vessels for every three dreadnoughts built by both the asari and the salarians while restricting associates to one dreadnought for every three built by them.

The treaty had been a point of conflict within the militaristic society of the turians, nationalistic elements such as Palavani Prima calling it a way to 'blunted the talons of the Hierarchy'. These groups had been largely ignored by the Council of Primarchs until billions of quarians had perished at the hands of an untold number of geth who would in no way be obliged to limit themselves in such a way. This had caused the Hierarchy to adopt a critical stance against the Treaty of Farixen but not for the reasons groups like Palavani Prima had hoped. The Turian Hierarchy had time and again tried, and failed, to adapt the Treaty of Farixen in face of what they called an 'existential threat to galactic society as a whole'.

Benezia however argued that the geth had stayed passive for over two centuries and that the Citadel Conventions had upheld galactic peace ever since the Krogan Rebellions, a fact which when one ignored the tension between the Turian Hierarchy and the Batarian Hegemony or the later's occupation of sovereign worlds, mostly true. It was hard to consider something an existential threat if it rarely appeared outside its own territory after all. Especially for the asari who, thanks to their long life spans, still remembered the geth as something besides the murderers of billions of quarians.

Going from there, they had come to discuss if the HSA was important enough to be granted the unique privilage of maintaining their sizeable fleet of vessels. A point supported by the turian for rather obvious political and ideological reasons and opposed by Benezia out of the concern what other associates, who conformed to the Citadel Conventions for centuries, would think of it.

Cozek sighed. If he could make them aware of the information he had received some time ago, he would. But as things were, he had been sworn to secrecy for now. A promise he would fulfill, there was simply to much at stake if Arterius was right.

"Ignoring the political fallout this would create," Benezia spoke, "don't recent events give cause to question if they are ready for such a responsibility? This level of violent infighting within the society of an upcoming associate is worrying to say the least," the asari councilor spoke in the tone of grace common for people of her standing, empathy and political interest audible at the same time.

"The Hierarchy has dealt with separatism time and again since the Unification Wars," Ioventus replied. "No one ever questioned if we were ready for maintaining the biggest military in the galaxy."

"The Unification Wars didn't happen a mere decade before a decision of such magnitude was made."

This was one of the issues caused by the vast difference in the life spans of salarians, turians and asari. An event that for the short-lived salarians or somewhat more enduring turians had long since passed was seen as having occurred mere decades ago from the perspective of the asari. The impact it had on galactic politics was enourmous in Cozek's opinion. It reinforced a sense of stagnation within the Council that shouldn't be there in the first place given its role.

"Separatism is still an issue in our society," the turian reasoned. "Yet I don't see any concerns about the stability of the Hierarchy."

"You're awfully quiet about all of this, Idril," Benezia spoke as the STG agent and acting councilor of the Salarian Union was torn from his thoughts. "We are three of a piece, all of us should speak our mind regarding this."

Once more the conversation with Desolas Arterius came to his mind. He'd have to explain this decision to the Dalatrasses, while they had given him more leeway than any other salarian councilor in the past, he was, STG or not, still accountable for the consequences of his actions. He would find away, that's what STG agents did.

"I believe that the treaty was drafted under the faulty expectation that the galaxy wouldn't change in the future, that the Council would never encounter someone who would be developed enough to go beyond its limitations without our help in the first place. The Treaty of Farixen was never meant to force the deconstruction of dreadnoughts, it was meant to limit their construction. I believe a rework is overdue, the circumstances during which the treaty was signed are no longer the ones we find ourselves in today," he drew in a long breath. Even by salarian standards, that had been a long sentence.

Both councilors looked at him with a rather surprised expression, having expected him to say the opposite. It was a justified surprise, the politicians of the Salarian Union had always believed in maintaining the Treaty of Farixen after witnessing the destruction of the Krogan Rebellions and the danger another war of such a scale could pose to salarian territories. The Salarian Union simply didn't trust most races to maintain a large number of dreadnoughts.

However Cozek wasn't a politician, he was a soldier. A soldier with knowledge that he couldn't share yet but gave him enough of a reason to give parts of the galaxy the benefit of doubt either way. Mistrust couldn't catapult wolfram slugs across the void of space at a fraction of the speed of light, human dreadnoughts could.

"This was unexpected," Benezia replied. "Considering recent events, the Council can ill afford to appear divided. Now more than ever we need to be unified."

"Are you suggesting what I presume?" Ioventus asked as he turned to look at the asari.

"I propose that we come to a unanimous vote regarding his topic."

"A smart decision," Cozek offered. "Tevos's actions have created the sense that we are more divided than before. Showing the galaxy a united Citadel Council would help bridge the gap that some see between us," the salarian spoke, still recalling the mess Vaelan had made alongside the former asari councilor. "I propose that we hear out the ambassador and offer the HSA an exception on grounds of a unique situation should they be willing to cooperate with us."

"Cohesion is the foundation of every good unit," Ioventus spoke, most certainly quoting a turian field manual in the process. "I agree with both of your proposals."

"This meeting is concluded then?," Benezia asked, who no doubt had other things to attend to as well.

"Agreed," both the turian councilor and himself said in unison.

With that the three members of the galaxy's most powerful executive board returned to their own offices.

* * *

 **2132 CE, Kruljaven**

"On your right, Arterius," Aditas, one of his fellow trainees spoke, as Saren spun around before flinging a biotic throw at the metal frame of his enemy, tearing of its head in the process and stopping it from firing again.

"Two targets up ahead," another trainee spoke as a Phaeston unleashed its bite next to him, mass accelerator rounds tearing through the air of the jungle, demolishing circuits and spilling mechanical fluids in the process.

Their objective had been rather simple, infiltrate the 'batarian' slaver camp and leave nothing and no one standing. Standard turian doctrine in regards to this unfortunate part of the galactic society. This objective had been made complicated when whoever was controlling the protocols of the mechs had decided to alert another three companies of 'slavers' to the sixteen turians trying to advance on them in the cover of the night.

"Machine gunner setting up at that tree," another turian remarked, causing Saren to throw a biotic field at him that catapulted the mech into the air before the fall destroyed it, keeping it from suppressing the unit.

Whoever had to put these back together would be rather busy in the future.

The point behind suddenly facing insurmountable odds was clear to Saren. Blackwatch operatives were expected to lead the charge against suicidal odds and deliver a victory for the Turian Hierarchy. Even if it would result in their own death. Such a task required them to thrive in the chaos of combat, something his group was doing at this very moment, the results of nearly two years of rigorous training displayed in a glorious display of biotics, gunfire, melee combat and tech programs.

But it wouldn't be enough, not in the long run. They couldn't hold against them indefinitely.

As Saren downed three more mechs, the mocking representation of a batarian face making for a rather good target, he heard the sound of metal being demolished right next to him. One of his fellow trainees, Tacitus, holding a mech by its damaged head and using it to shield himself from the stun-rounds that were fired at them all the while delivering headshot after headshot with his Carnifex. "We can't just sit here," he called as he dropped the mech and slid back into the muddy ditch they were hunkered down in, white, damaged metal frames already stacking around them. "We'll be overwhelmed soon."

"Our orders are to kill all the slavers," Felios, the engineer of his unit, said as he fried a mech with an overload program, something that had turned into an invaluable asset during their weeks on Kruljaven, "but we can't do that if we stay here and drown in their stupid spare parts!" as if he was trying to reinforce his statement, he fired of a burst that trashed yet another mech, a head with four red eyes and eight nostrils painted on it rolling next to their feet, four holes punched straight through its center.

"Then we don't," Saren said as his biotics flared up. "We get out of this ditch and make a break for the camp, use the prefabs as better cover."

"Spirits," one trainee sighed. "You know what? It's not like I've got anything better to do."

"What are you thinking? Barriers, shockwave, grenades, overloads and then Phaestons?" Darius, the leader of another group and sole biotic besides Saren himself, asked as his own fists were engulfed in purple.

"As good of a plan as any," the third leader replied as he destroyed two more mechs that dropped into their cover with his omni-tool, causing the white bodies to be stained by the wet earthy as they slid down into the ditch.

"If we're getting tranqued anyway, we might as well make it memorable," the fourth leader chuckled as she lifted her Phaeston and dispatched another mech that had closed in on them. "After you, Arterius."

Nodding towards Darius, the two Blackwatch operatives rose in unison after reinforcing their barriers. Not wasting anymore time, they channeled their biotics into a wave, Saren's being noticeably stronger than Darius's, and let loose, purple ripples impacted with the mechs that had closed in on them during their discussion and sending them flying through the air.

"Grenades!" Saren called as small, grey cylinders were thrown from the ditch, exploding in a mix of shrapnel and pressure between the ranks of the mechs headed for them, tearing them apart piece by piece.

"With me!" Saren called as he rushed towards the slaver's camp, rounds hitting his barriers as fourteen black clad armored figures rose behind the two former cabals, Phaestons, omni-tool programs, explosions and the rare biotic display of Darius or himself lighting their way.

Things were going good, the unit was quickly closing in on the slaver camp.

Until they weren't.

Kinetic barriers started to fail under the constant fire of the mechs and tranquilizer rounds started to deliver electric discharges strong enough to knock out any turian after a few hits.

The first to go was Aditas, his Phaeston fire simply coming to a stop as he dropped to the ground, unconscious, sliding through the mud for a few seconds before coming to a stop. He was soon followed by the leader of the fourth squad who had jumped in front of one of her subordinates to shield him from a mech carrying a shotgun which had jumped from one of the bushes surrounding the slaver camp. Soon more turians followed, collapsing on the way towards the prefab's entrance after they had destroyed mech after mech, a large number of white bodies stained by mud already lining their path.

Some of the Blackwatch operatives decided to buy their comrades more time, the conscious knowledge that this was merely an exercise long since gone. They turned on their heel in an attempt to stop the enemy from shooting their allies, suppressing them for a few suppressing seconds before falling victim to the electric rounds.

They would make fantastic Blackwatch operatives one day but Saren couldn't listen to the voice telling him to do the same now. This wasn't his place, he was too far ahead to turn around now. The prefabs would enable him to return fire from a position that wouldn't leave him on the floor after a few seconds.

The trainees' numbers were dwindling with every second, now only six of the original sixteen still charging for the prefab, another of his own team 'flat-lining' on Saren's HUD yet they pressed on until there were only two. Darius and Saren kept running, their own biotic barriers giving them more protection than the rest. They jumped into the prefab and got into position at the windows, a seemingly endless stream of mechs appearing from the ditch they had just abandoned. Had they held their position, the situation wouldn't have been any different.

He started to dispatch mech after mech until his Phaeston overheated, causing him to grab the Carnifex on his waist as a backup weapon, Darius running into similar problems soon as the two turians tried to hold the mechs at bay. However with each mech they destroyed, another one closed in and soon they were right on top of them.

As Saren's barriers shattered, he could already feel the sting of the tranquilizer rounds but when a mech with a shotgun fired at him from point blank distance, the rounds didn't knock him out as he expected. Instead they shattered on a purple field. He downed the mech with a round of his Carnifex and turned towards Darius, his unconscious form laying on the ground of the prefab, a hand still stretched towards Saren.

Looking back up, he dispatched another mech but a sting in his side informed him that his barriers and kinetic shielding had once more failed, a tranquilizer round smashing into his sides and hitting roughly the same spot where an unknown sniper had previously injured him two years ago.

The feeling wasn't pleasant and it certainly served to make this feel less like the exercise it was supposed to be.

He dropped to the ground and fired a Carnifex round straight through the mech's head, the gun overheating after the head exploded in a mix of sparks and parts, only for another two to burst through the door. Saren unleashed his biotic potential once more and pulled one of the mechs towards him before throwing it at its companion, destroying both of them but he couldn't react to the one which had climbed to the window, a stinging feeling in his neck being the one thing that he felt before blackness filled his vision.

And then he found himself woken up by a turian clad in the same armor but not wearing a helmet, greenish plates with blue markings making him out to be born on Palaven.

"Easy there," he said. "You took quite the hit."

Saren shook his head in an attempt to clear it, causing the soldier to chuckle while the younger turian undid the locks of his helmet, the humid air of Kruljaven helping to fully wake him up.

"Rally outside, the commander wants to speak to you."

"Yes, Sergeant," he said before shooting up and jogging outside, the rest of his unit already standing two neat rows, mud on their armor and weapons and helmets in hand , a spot in the front row apparently reserved for him. He fell in line and waited as Commander Xarus began to adress them.

"Today you may feel like you failed," the Blackwatch veteran said as he noticed the defeated looks of his comrades, "but this exercise was never meant to result in anything but a defeat. No, the purpose of this exercise isn't to see you victorious, it's to teach you the last tenet of the Blackwatch."

The faces of his comrades shifted from disappointed to confused, a look Saren shared with them. All of them had been led to believe that they had already been taught all of the Blackwatch's saying.

"Sometimes the only thing a hunter can do is to weaken his prey for the rest of the pack," for some reason the sentence instantly drilled itself into his head, no rigorous physical training or stress situations were required for it to be memorable. This might have been the clearest lesson he had received up to now.

"Today you did exactly that. 383 destroyed mechs or as you were told, dead slavers. That is impressive," the Commander said as his mandibles flicked into a serious expression. "While you didn't complete your assignment, any force sent after you would have eliminated the remnants thanks to your deeds. You injured the prey, laying the groundwork for a future hunt."

Saren felt a sense of fulfillment inside of him.

"And sometimes, when faced with impossible odds, laying the groundwork so someone else can win another day is the only thing we can do. Get some food into you and clean your gear. Tomorrow will be a new day. Dismissed."

* * *

 **11\. May 2390 AD, Elysium, Colonial Watch Headquarters**

After having seized the observatory, HSAIS had kept up the transmissions, using already present material they had retrieved on site with the intention of keeping up the impression that the station was in fact still in IFS hands.

Meanwhile she had personally flown to Elysium to take this interrogation into her own hands.

Opening the door that would lead to the interrogation room holding the man responsible for the broadcasts, she came face to face with a red-haired, bearded man wearing prison fatigues complementing his hair colour.

They had done their research. Gilroy Hughes, 35 years old, no living relatives, widowed during the attack on New Canton. The man had worked as a correspondent for a local news station until 'disappearing' in 2387, shortly after the mercenary attacks on Fehl Prime, Ferris Fields and New Canton, employing his talents for Elysium's IFS cells ever since.

A classical story for a fourth-wave IFS recruits, someone who had been drawn in after the attacks on the three colonies in 2387. The time and reason of his joining clearly set him apart from either first-wave recruits, the original militias that had joined prior to the Fringe Wars or the second-wave, the people who joined the IFS during the Fringe Wars. Neither did he fit the profile of those who had joined the separatists shorty after the IFS had already been defeated, their motivation being a clear hatred of the HSA.

Gilroy Hughes hadn't joined out of his hatred for the HSA, she knew that for a fact because she knew his type. He had joined because he saw it as the only way to prevent the thing that had happened to him from happening to someone else. He was a man who's grief the IFS had used to twist him into something they could exploit, far from someone who actually supported their ideology.

"Hello Gilroy," she said in a soothing voice. "I'm here because I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Ask all you want," the man spat back as he glared at her. "I'm not going to answer."

"I hear you haven't eaten anything since you got here?" she asked, changing the topic to get his guard down.

"I don't know with what you lace the food over here," she had to smile a bit at that. Why did they always assume that it was the food which was drugged? While she had the truth serum people like Lal Qila favoured for their interrogations of mercenaries with her, she'd rather try and make him talk willingly. Drugging, while certainly efficient in the cases some of her subordinates employed it, wouldn't be the way here. Someone who talked because he wanted to was a better long-term source of intel than someone who had done so against his own free will.

"You used to be a news correspondent, correct?"

Silence was his only reply.

"Well, I know that it's correct so you don't need to answer," she joked as she sat down and began to observe him. It was plain obvious that the man wasn't used to being interrogated, the nervousness was evident on his face.

"Never did anything wrong, not even a parking ticket, yet here you are, what happen Gilroy?" she knew exactly what had happened.

Once more the man remained silent.

"You lost your wife, Molly, during the attack on New Canton," the director began. Usually these things opened people up. "What were you doing there? It says right here that you worked on Elysium all your life and that Molly was equally busy with her job at New Illyria's Medical Center. Why go to New Canton?"

"We were visiting family," he sighed, a crack appearing in his shell. "Molly's cousin moved there, he was always one to buy all that 'pioneer spirit' stuff you feed people to get them to leave their homes," he chuckled. "He'd go on and on about living on the 'frontier of human destiny' while working on that god damn field. Invited us to come visit so we decided to go for it, get out of our little corner, you know?"

"He was a farmer?"

"Yes," that explained a lot of things. The attack on New Canton had been the most devastating of the three assaults, some 15.000 people dying out in the countryside as they lived too far away from the shelters and too many Blood Pakc forces had landed between them and the army units.

"It takes guts to just pack up and decide to be part of a colonialisation effort," she replied.

"Yeah, his 'guts' got Molly killed."

"No, an act of terror got her killed."

"Does it matter? She's dead now and its all becaue you people are completely incapable of doing the one thing you built your entire government on. 'Ensuring the survival of the human race'," he mocked. "Your goons did a great job at that on New Canton, now did you?"

"New Canton's garrison lost over seventy percent of its manpower in an attempt to stop the attacks. Some units fought to the last man to protect the shelters while others were decimated trying to stop the Blood Pack from massacring everyone in the countryside, being cut down one after another in an attempt to reach you," the director said, placing a special emphasis on the 'you' at the end of her statement. "You can blame our government, you can blame me, you should blame the Blood Pack, Eclipse and everyone involved in causing the events that led up to the attacks but you can't possibly blame the soldiers that laid down their lives while fighting ti save your own. Tell me, do you remember how you survived? Who rescued you?"

She knew. A reinforced platoon had fought its way through hordes of Blood Pack mercenaries with the help of gunship support, sustaining 33 fatalities until they reached the farmhouse in which he had been found, in shock and surrounded by the members of his family that had been killed by a stray rocket fired by an injured vorcha.

He once more grew silent, the reminder serving its purpose.

"Do you know how many the IFS killed in their attempt of 'protecting' you? Over six thousand people," she pressed on. "You helped them inflict this kind of pain that caused you to join the IFS in the first place on six thousand people," now she closed in for the kill. "Do you think this is what Molly would have wanted you to do? Help a madman with his crusade against innocent people?"

The reaction he displayed was the one she had least hoped for, the sound of his head smashing against the metal desk causing the guards outside to jump in, believing him to be out of control. She raised a hand at them, causing them to stop as he smashed his head against the table again.

"Stop it, Gilroy. Harming yourself won't change a thing," she ordered.

"I should've died on New Canton!" he screamed at her. "I should've died on New Canton," he repeated as the blood ran down his forehead, his voice now a mere whisper compared to before.

"No you shouldn't have," she said returning to the soothing voice of before. "I won't lie to you, you will have to face the punishment for your actions," she sighed, "but you can still help us honor Molly's memory by helping us put an end to all of this."

"How?" he asked defeated. He had cracked, good.

"You broadcasted a file in which this man appeared," she said as she shoved a tablet displaying Andrej Kamarov's scarred face towards him. "I need to know how you received it."

"Someone sent it to me," Gilroy replied as he looked at they man with grey hair, light skin and dark eyes. "Told me not to alter anything."

"Do you have the address it was sent from?" she questioned. This was good. Kamarov was notorious for being a perfectionist, it was certainly logical to assume that he would order something like that.

"Yes," he answered as he handed the tablet back to her. "Whoever sent it did so from their personal computer."

"Can you give it to me?" she asked as she opened up a new file on the tablet before giving it back to him.

"Of course," he said as he began typing. "My god, what have I done?"

"You simply grieved," she offered. "Then the IFS took advantage of it and twisted your grief into something they could benefit from."

"I- I'm," he stuttered.

"We won't forget your cooperation," she said as she grabbed the tablet. "Give that man something to eat," she ordered one of the guards before leaving the room and heading for the command central.

The bastard had hidden right under their noses and if her memory served her right exactly where he could admire his work every day.

Good thing she had taken her gear with her.

It was time for some payback and the Widow Maker was in the mood to deliver it.

* * *

 **Thirty Minutes Later**

The plan was simple. Get in, grab Kamarov and end this mess once and for all. The 212th Infantry Regiment would lock down the area and she would walk right up to his door and knock it down, four squads of ASOC on speed dial in case anything goes wrong. Meanwhile regulars would control and evacuate as many civilians as possible from the Kamarov, you never knew. Someone didn't earn the nickname 'Butcher of Elysium' by being careful about who he targeted.

She jumped out of the vehicle and walked over to the captain in charge of the army's elite special forces team.

"This complex has two entrances," she reminded him. "I want two squads starting on each of them and the moment I give the signal, you follow me up to the third floor and shoot anything that looks like its Kamarov, are we clear?" her signal would indicate that she was incapable of restraining Kamarov, the consequence being that he would have to be put down, "until I give that signal, I want you to get as many civilians out as possible without raising too much attention."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied before he relayed the orders to the rest of the ASOC contingent, all of them complying simultaneously.

She walked through the now mostly deserted square, Illyria's abandoned skyline visible in the distance, and drew in a long breath before pushing open the door, the ASOC unit already knocking on the first door, a rather drunken looking man offering one of the soldiers a swig of his drink before being pulled out of the apartment.

She had waited for this day for nine years and 45 days, now it had finally come.

Taking the stairway to the third floor, she soon found herself standing in front of the source of the transmission. She pulled her pistol from its holster and unlocked the door to confront Kamarov.

* * *

 _Codex: Turian-Batarian Relations_

 _Diplomatic relations between the Turian Hierarchy and the Batarian Hegemony are best described as a cold war. Even the deep seated resentment between the krogan and the turians doesn't compare to the state between the two as a sense of begrudging respect for each others martial ability is still present between the previous foes._

 _There are multiple reasons for this._

 _First off turian society, mostly as a result of its strict order of succession, presence of the military and sense of civic duty, never embraced the concept of slavery at any point of its cultural development. While some would suspect that these social tendencies would serve to push the Hierarchy into a position where slavery could be justified as a way to serve the collective, it does in fact do the opposite._

 _'In stripping a person of their freedom, you strip them of their personal responsibility and the potential they could dedicate to the good of others. It is therefore paramount to punish anyone who would dare to harm a people in such a fashion to the full extend of the law,' those are the words used to justify the treatment the Turian Hierarchy gives to any and all slavers they find, death._

 _However not only the social divide causes the relation of the two governments to be as bad as it is. Armed conflict and the repeated intervention of stopping a war the turian people have been preparing for since the end of the Krogan Rebellions play a role as well._

 _In 1785 CE a batarian fleet bombarded the salarian colony of Mannovai, only the appeasement of the Salarian Union, followed by the sudden and violent death of multiple high ranking batarian officials, managing to stop the Hierarchy from intervening._

 _In 1913 CE the Batarian Hegemony annexed Esan, an independent asari colony, before renaming it into Lorek and claiming both the planet itself and the hundreds of thousands of asari colonists as its rightful property. This time only an envoy sent by the Asari Republics managed to stop a turian fleet from reclaiming the planet, pleading them to allow Matriarch Siisra D'Kyos to negotiate the release of its population, an attempt which saw 70 percent of 'non-essential' slaves released to the turian fleet in orbit._

 _However in 2115 CE no one managed to stand in the way of the turians as batarian forces invaded a council colony on the edge of their space, Enael. Expecting another 'Esan', the batarians landed on the world only to find elements of the 26th Armiger Legion conducting land-based exercises on the planet. Edging for a fight int he making for over 300 years, the local commander rushed to defend the colony and began a series of skirmishes that would drag on for the better part of a month. Only the intervention of the Council itself and the promise of batarian reparations managed to stop four turian fleets from descending on Khar'shan itself._

 _Ever since 2115 CE the Hierarchy has completely broken off diplomatic contact with Khar'shan, ending their last formal exchange with the promise that even the Council won't stop them when the batarians try to claim another sovereign world._

* * *

 **A/N: God damn that's a long Codex Entry or chapter in general but yeah.**

 **Saren's back after quite some chapters and if this seems rather random, rest assured his scene holds relevance for the rest of the story.**

 **Going on, a bit of focus on Cozek because I think his pov is a rather interesting one. Certainly interesting.**

 **And since I heard you enjoyed the cliffhanger of chapter 19 so much, I decided to put in another one! :D**

 **I also found out that Semper Vigilo has been the point of discussion in at least two forums, that's neat. Glad to see people carry it out there. Keep doing that but know, I am watching. :)**

 **Now for the records we're at 152 reviews, 333 favorites and 416 follows. Growth is happening once more. Good.**

 **As always, let me know what you think about this chapter, that's what reviews are for after all. I enjoy knowing your thoughts.**

 **See you around next time.**


	22. Brighter Than A Thousand Suns

**Chapter 22. Brighter Than A Thousand Suns**

* * *

 **11\. May 2390 AD, Elysium, New Illyria**

The door hissed open and she raised her pistol into the darkened apartment, shut blinds keeping out the light from the outside. Taking a careful step forward, her helmet applied a green night vision filter over her surroundings. She walked through the entrance area and opened the second door up ahead, revealing a room with a single working desk, a perfectly made bed facing the window and an IFS flag, its edges either burned by a skirmish or jagged by age. A single chair was standing neatly in front of the table, perfectly aligned with its center and next to it a computer silently hummed along the air conditioning. It would've been surprising that the device was still working if it didn't look as good as new. Someone had done a good job maintaining it. On one of the walls an old picture of Elysium's former capital, Illyria, was hung, its frame looking somewhat worse for wear than the rest of the room.

Blending out the sounds, she focused on picking up small noises, someone breathing, someone making a move for something. Anything that would betray the presence of someone other than herself inside the apartment but besides the humming it was eerily quiet, not even the commotion going on outside audible. She walked over to a wall all the while keeping her eyes on the two closed doors connected to the room she had just entered in case someone was still hiding in here. When she reached it, she opened the sheath of her knife, causing the blade to slide into her hand before ramming it into the wall. Her suspicion was confirmed as she withdrew the blade, a black foam visible underneath. Someone had soundproofed the apartment to keep people from eavesdropping. Regular people wouldn't feel the need to do that.

Kamarov had stayed here for a long time, his perfectionism and paranoia had left their mark on the apartment. Said marks however gave rise to another question.

Where was he now?

She flicked on the lights, now certain that she was alone, and continued her investigation.

Moving towards one of the doors connected to the room, she couldn't help but notice that the place looked distinctively inhabited. The lack of dust suggested that it had recently been cleaned as well. As she was about to open the door, something caught her eye. A part of the picture's frame was loose. The Widow Maker stepped back from the door and carefully placed her hands on the picture before running her fingers along it, the thought that it may be rigged to blow ever present in her mind. With Kamarov one could never be too careful. Skipping over the loose part, she would only return to it after having finished checking for wires or other things that could trigger something. When she found nothing that raised her suspicion, she lifted the loose part of the frame up to reveal a small, silver metal coil.

A component of a jammer, the other pieces most likely hidden somewhere in the room. Surely he would've taken something like that with him if he had permanently fled Elysium.

She made a mental note to have the other parts of the apartment searched for more components before going through the door, a bathroom revealing itself to her as she turned on the lights. Just like the rest of the place, it looked as if someone had been here mere days ago. Going for the first shelf, an old, wooden one next to the sink, she slowly pulled open one of its drawers, once more making sure that nothing could cause an explosive device to blow up her and everyone inside the apartment. When she found no such thing, she fully opened it and began to search its contents. By the looks of it, this drawer had served Kamarov as a medical compartment, pain killers, three syringes of medigel and caffeine pills still stored inside. She closed the drawer and moved on, opening the one above after repeating the security check. As it turned out, this one had fulfilled the purpose of a wardrobe, neatly folded clothes placed inside. She looked through them but found out nothing besides the fact that Kamarov seemed to have a rather boring taste in clothes, plain black shirts and beige pants being plentiful. She was about to close it when she noticed something else. In the back of the drawer there was an empty space, the slightly different colour of the wood indicating that something had been there until recently and it didn't match the spaces taken up by Kamarov's usual clothing. Closing the drawer, she continued her search of the bathroom but found nothing of interest.

She walked out of the room and decided to check the other door, opening it and once more flicking on the light to reveal a small storage room. Besides a series of rather basic cleaning items, there was something that definitely confirmed this to be the apartment of Kamarov, a containment field used to store radioactive material. He had already been waiting for the isotope.

"He's not here," she spoke into the radio, interrupting the silent humming of the air condition and the computer. "Sent in a recovery team, tell them to assume that everything is rigged to blow."

"Copy that."

She sighed in frustration and turned on her heel, ready to walk out of the door when a little beeping caused her to spin around and level her pistol at the place it was coming form. The terminal on the desk had turned on on its own, a small notification informing her that Kamarov did in fact have one new message from an unknown contact.

It was better than nothing.

She walked over to the terminal and opened the message, a video link opening itself, only to come face to face with a very familiar face.

"Always so nosy," he chuckled, the telltale humming of an engine audible in the background. He was on a ship. "Now I'd ask you how you found me but as you're probably suspecting by now, I already know."

"Kamarov," she muttered at the screen as the man began to smile, the IFS uniform he was wearing indicating just what had been missing inside the drawer. She stepped closer to the terminal to disguise the movements of her hands before dropping a wireless device onto the desk. It would find out from where he was sending his transmission, he just had to keep talking for long enough.

"Came to gloat?" she asked as the tracker began its work, a small progress bar appearing on the HUD of her helmet.

"In a way yes," he shrugged. "I merely wanted to save you the time you'd spent trying to find me, you won't until I allow it."

"You didn't allow us to find you last time either," she countered. "The fact that most of your belongings are still here suggests you thought we wouldn't find you here either. You left in a hurry," she challenged him as her HUD informed her that the transmission was not coming from the planet. This was bad. If he had gotten offworld, finding him may turn into a wild goose chase.

However the old Kamarov never would've taken this risk, the man had been far too careful to contact anyone over an unsecured line, the jammer proofed that much. Something about him was off, starring in the transmission had already been strange since he had never made a public appearance before, but now he was gloating. It didn't fit the behaviour of a man who had managed to stay hidden for nine years. The IFS turning on him once more may have left a stronger impact on him than she had first suspected. The man had always placed a high value on loyalty, if the cause he was loyal to had betrayed him, it may have shattered the more logical, stable parts of his mind completely. He was starting to become careless.

"All the things I left behind belonged to a man hiding from his enemies, not the Butcher of Elysium," Kamarov replied. "Given that I've left that life behind me, I had no further use for its remnants."

"Not even the jammer?" she argued as the tracking software informed her that the transmission was being sent from somewhere within the Fringe. He hadn't gotten that far, not yet. The transmission was still using the HSA's network to reach her, not the much greater, galactic one. Just a bit longer.

"I don't need to hide under your nose anymore," he answered. "In fact I don't need to hide anymore at all. Now I'm sure you're trying to track this signal so I won't be much longer. I have just one more thing left to say," so the man still had some common sense. A pity.

"Well spit it out then," the Widow Maker replied. "Or save it for when I find you."

"I didn't appreciate you stealing my signature. One doesn't deny an artist the finishing touch on his masterpiece. Rest assured, you will pay, all of you."

"Not if I put an end to you," she threatened.

"That didn't work last time, did it?" he spat back.

The transmission ended with Kamarov staring at her, the tracking software asking her to reestablish the connection.

She barely managed to keep herself from throwing the terminal to the ground, only the small chance that something on it would help track him down before he made his move.

Damn the bastard.

* * *

 **20\. May 2390 AD, Human Territories, Decommissioned Transport Vessel**

"Our final run on Amaterasu didn't turn up any more volunteers," his assistant informed him as he focused on the device on the table anxiety, joy and exhaustion causing him to be alert, excited and tired at the same time. "No one wants to be associated with us," she told him.

After having fled Elysium mere hours before the HSA had crashed through his front door, he had set for the Terminus Systems, buying the finishing touch of his masterpiece for a ludicrous price and shooting the volus salesman after the transmission had been completed out of spite. Then he had procured other items he'd need and now, with the help of two factory new freighters he was on his way to fulfill his promise.

"They'll burn alongside the HSA then," he muttered, his focus somewhere else, the low humming of the engines putting his mind at ease. "Everyone who stands in the way of our cause will burn."

The IFS had started a campaign, a very public one by their standards, informing everyone to stay as far away from him and his allies as possible. It had worked. The Fringe had betrayed him just like his former right-hand man had betrayed him all those years ago and they hadn't come close to the number of people he would've liked to have on board for this operation but in the end numbers wouldn't matter. His masterpiece would be the ultimate equalizer.

"How many are left?" he asked. Most of his loyal subordinates had perished on Elysium, only the elite he had held in reserve or assigned to the further preparation of this mission surviving to escape with him.

"Eight assassins, 86 veteran militia men, five pilots" she replied, "and the two of us."

"It will suffice," he said as he placed a hand on the device, a slightly modified copy of the one that had devastated Elysium all those years ago. Tracing the outer edges, he felt pride rush through him. Another flawless design ready to leash out. The HSA's counter-measures wouldn't be able to keep him from triggering it, he had made sure of it.

"According to your orders all but a skeletal crew have been moved to this ship and final preparations are being made. A VI is assisting the two volunteers in their duties aboard the other freighter. We'll reach our destination in an hour and the technicians are preparing the shuttle for us, they say that the IFF is integrated and working. Would you like to address our comrades?" the assistant asked as she shut off the alien device on her wrist, its orange glow fading.

"No. They know what they need to do," he replied as he ran a hand along the scar on his head. All in due time. First he'd make sure to show everyone how fragile the HSA was, then he'd turn his attention back to everyone who had betrayed him on his path.

"Do you want me to get your armor?" she asked.

"I won't need it," Kamarov replied. His plan would ensure that they'd experience minimal resistance.

"Are you sure that we should do this? Maybe it would be wiser to try a more subtle appro-"

"Are you questioning my orders?" he said as he glared at the woman already wearing her dark-brown armor, a sign that she was expecting more than minimal resistance, a sign of her lack of faith in his plan. "Because if you do, I'd like to remind you how I deal with traitors."

"I-what?" she asked confused. Or maybe she was just faking the confusion to hide her own schemes. "I didn-"

"You were always one of my most devoted subordinates so I will extend you a courtesy I'd give no one else. A second chance," he interrupted her. She swallowed before her face drew into a serious expression, replacing the faked confusion. Good, for now atleast.

"I won't question you again," she spoke. "I'll make the final preparations and see you in the hangar bay."

"For the Fringe," he offered.

"For the Fringe," she replied somewhat meagerly. Perhaps another sign of fleeting loyalty? He'd have to find a replacement later down the line, someone who wouldn't even dream about questioning him.

Once more left alone with his thoughts, Andrej Kamarov looked at his target, the place where he would make another mark on history and couldn't help but smile at the prospects of the future.

* * *

 **2132 CE, Arcturus Station**

Her yellow cruiser moving over his greenish home world, marking yet another defeat Redford had suffered at her hand, caused him to sigh.

"I got closer than last time," he explained as he dropped back into the cushion of the seat.

"Just be glad that this isn't one of the official tournaments," she reminded him.

"Yeah I know, I'd get shocked from here to Earth and back again," he spoke as he cracked his neck, a distinctively human mannerism, "but I still got your cruiser."

"Yes, because I used it to draw you out. You're not exactly the naval genius you see yourself as, Redford," she countered with a smile.

"So you'd get shocked as well," the specialist said as he turned to look at her with a smirk. "How's that for naval genius?"

"Sacrifices are inevitable on the way to victory," she quoted from an old turian military text she had studied as a Spectre.

"Have you made up your mind about BAaT yet?" he asked seemingly out of the blue.

He was referring to the human biotic program she had recently been asked to take a leading instruction role in, her experience and the fact that she was listed as one of the strongest asari biotics currently alive being seen as an asset the HSA couldn't let go to waste.

Human biotics were a blank slate, a complete unknown. No one knew just how strong they would turn out to be and if they'd fall in line with turian or drell biotics, who made up the middlefield of biotic potential and endurance or if they'd turn out to be like the quarian biotics of the past or the rare salarian ones who lacked behind the rest of the galaxy in terms of their biotic potential. Tela doubted that the humans would be able to come close to matching the natural biotics of the asari or the brute strength of the krogan even if they had surprised her in the past. As far as she had been told it would be her responsibility to find out where they ranked and adapt the training accordingly, working on their training with regular HSA military personal.

Still, the humans had to make up for the huge disadvantage in terms of the number of biotics they could field. Only a few hundred children were currently known to have manifested something akin to biotic potential and there was no telling how many of them would turn out to be strong enough to employ their abilities in combat. For now, the number would be dwarfed even by the thin ranks of the Cabal Corps.

The solution to this issue they seemed to favour right now was to ensure that their biotics would be able to be as skilled as 'humanly possible' in using their new abilities while ensuring that they'd be just as skilled in non-biotic combat, a rather familiar approach to the matter. A turian one at that. While it hadn't been said to her face, she figured that the Hierarchy had been their main source of inspiration in this regard, joint maneuvers serving as one of the many situations in which human forces had worked with biotics. Cabals were not exactly the most powerful biotics in the galaxy but they made up for the lack of raw power they could put behind their biotics through rigorous training, refined tactics and the usual turian discipline.

While asari huntresses were very much skilled with mass accelerator weapons, they still heavily relied on their biotics most of the times. Strong biotics were a requirement to enlist in any unit within the Asari Republics, since it made sense for her people to rely on their natural gift but if one stripped them of their abilities, they wouldn't be able to conduct most of their missions. Cabals on the other hand were still an elite squad of riflemen, even without their biotics.

Unlike asari their bodies didn't possess a natural endurance in regards their biotics. They weren't adapted to use them, they didn't evolve with them. This problem transcended through every species besides the krogan who could simply power through it due to their unique secondary nervous system and general resilience. Others couldn't use their biotics abilites for nearly as long or on nearly the same level as someone like a krogan battlemaster, a justicar or Tela herself could, falling into a self-induced coma due to the exhaustion long before coming close to the higher levels of biotic potential common place within the asari military.

Since human biotics would fall in line with this trend, it made sense to give them something to fall back on.

"I'd have to move away from Arcturus," Tela answered, "but I've definitely considered it. It's not like I got anything better to do anyway."

"Yeah I heard that, they plan on doing it on Terra Nova," Redford replied. "Stick them into the new academy they named after Grissom."

"He was the one who died on Elysium right?" Tela asked to keep the conversation going. Having done her fair share of studying human history, she was well aware of who Jon Grissom was. 'Hero of the HSA', as others called him. The first and only Section 13 specialist to be made into a public figure upon his death, a way of honoring his deeds and to give the people a hero in face of the atrocities that occurred during the Fringe Wars. In a way his exploits reminded her of a Spectre, someone outside the law growing through fame through heroic deeds that seem near impossible but are backed up by offical records and factual evidence.

"Yes, tough bloke. Took a nuke to kill him," Redford chuckled. There was a bittersweetness to his reaction that she picked up on.

"Were you close?"

"Kind off. Yes," the specialist replied after a moment of consideration. "He was a comrade you know, not exactly my best mate but also the guy who brought me into the section. Sucks to lose someone like that, to be completely unable to help them, just stand there and watch them go, you know?"

"Using 'mate' as a way to describe a friend is still strange," Tela offered to put his thoughts on something else. One shouldn't open up old wounds and humor would do well to keep him from doing it.

His laugh implied that it was working.

"That's what you pick out of that sentence?" he asked. "Hell, I've been calling people 'mate' since I could talk. I don't think I could shake that habit if my life depended on it."

"Maybe that would be another use for the shock pads used in Kepesh-Yakshi?" Tela suggested with a smirk.

"Somehow I get the feeling I should keep those away from you, for my own sake."

"You're just afraid of some real stakes," she joked.

"Speaking of stakes," he replied. "I've been thinking about a way to repay you for Omega, the-."

"You don't need to repay anything," Tela interrupted him.

"Christ, will you let me finish?" Redford chuckled. "Anyway, I thought the least I could do to return the favour would be to take you out for dinner some time. You did almost get beaten up by a krogan after all. So, what do you say, couple of days from now?"

"I'd love to," the words almost shot out of her mouth.

"No snarky comment? Solid," he replied as their eyes met, his brown orbs looking into her own, dark green ones´as they drifted into silence, the fainting scar where the turian had scratched the specialist on Omega still visible on the left side of his face.

"Anyway," he said, breaching the comfortable silence that had settled in the room. "How about two days from now?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do," Tela replied.

"There's the snarky comment I was expecting," he laughed.

"Two days from now sounds good," she answered sincere as he got up, causing her to stand as well.

"Anyway, I have to get going again. Still got some work to do," he said as they walked for the door. "Now I don't want to influence you on the decision regarding the job but for the record, I'd really like an excuse to go to Terra Nova once in a while. Beats Arcturus any time of the week."

"Can't go without seeing me once in a while?" she teased as they lingered in the door.

"Well, technically I was ordere-"

His reply was cut short by the sound of an alarm ringing through the station and the beeping of his now red glowing watch drawing both of their attention.

"What the hell?" he frowned as looked at his watch, "please tell me they let you keep your stuff after Omega."

"They said it would save time if I ever needed it again," she replied as she began to walk back into the apartment and to the closet it was stored in, Redford following right behind. "What's going on?"

"I don't know but this," he held up the wrist watch, revealing a small message to her just as she withdrew the footlocker her gear was stored in, "means nothing good."

'Meet me outside the security hub, bring the Spectre. Trouble. - WM.'

* * *

 **47 Minutes Earlier, Arcturus Station**

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the man sighed repeated the same answer again. "Chancellor Noé is still with the parliament."

"Any idea how much longer he'll be in there?" she muttered, leaning against the wall. She had already been here an hour ago only to receive the same answer.

Usually she could just walk inside there and drag him out but that would raise a lot of questions, questions she didn't need right now. Rei's persistence, combined with the recent failure of capturing Kamarov, had managed to convince her that the time to inform the chancellor of their findings on the Object Omnicrons and their 'Harbinger' had come. He had argued that the highest echelon of human leadership should be made aware of the recent implications about galactic history. Especially since STG was apparently tracking the same thing. Diplomacy between races was not part of Section 13's autonomy but the chancellor could make it one. If they wanted to pursue this matter to its full extend, Rei had pointed out that the chancellor needed to be made aware of it. As the elected leader of the human race he was as responsible for its safety as Section 13.

Until recently she had mostly disagreed with this mindset on the grounds that Noé was still that, an elected leader, meaning he could only be of help as long as he was chosen to stay in office, therefore she had decided to push the matter into the future and instead focusing on Kamarov for now.

However as she was standing in front of the chancellor's office, intending to reveal everything they knew about this subject to him, it was obvious that something had changed her mind. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it had been but on her way back to Cronos Station she had recalled the last report Rei had given her before coming to the conclusion that the time for revelations wasn't slowly closing in on them but that it had already arrived and she had overlooked it due to letting Kamarov get to her.

"No idea, Ma'am. It's a complicated matter. I could let him know that you were here once he gets out," he offered. "Or send you a notification."

She was wasting her time here, she may as well get some work done while she was on Arcturus, "Inform me once he's free, tell him its urgent."

"Will do, Ma'am."

"I'll be in the security hub."

The assistant nodded and she set off, walking through the corridors of Arcturus and leaving the political part of the station behind her, instead walking through the areas inhabited by the people working here. While someone unaware of just were he was may be fooled by the appearance, she was aware that everything in here was artificial, the gravity, the air, the temperature, even the light but even with that knowledge she couldn't help but be somewhat amazed by how close to Earth it actually came. As she walked through a more open area with some people in it, trees and living units lining the sides, she found herself lingering in front of a water garden for some reason. A lotus flower caught her eyes, its white-pink leaves blooming in the small pond of water it was floating insde, surviving thanks to the fact that everything it needed was given to it through artificial means at the hands of Arcturus.

She faintly remembered the flower from her childhood on Earth, floating peacefully between other the other plants and animals living in the pond in front of her home, coexisting with each other in their own little world as she stood on the outside and simply watched with her family. It took her surprisingly to picture their faces and recall the sound of their voices. She hadn't been home in a long time, had she? The image of her home, a rather large family estate far away both in terms of distance and appearance from the large, arcology skyscrapers of Singapore, was equally blurred. She recalled seemingly random details of first moving there, a white gate, an old stairway made out of creaky wood, the evergreen trees she used to climb.

Why did she feel like this now? This was neither the time nor the place for it. Pushing the nostalgia back into the corner of her mind she looked at the time on her wrist watch, moving the sleeve of her black uniform back in the process.

She had stood here for nearly ten minutes. The director tore her gaze from the flower and kept walking. There was still work to do. She couldn't just space out like that.

The director moved through the living area and after walking for quite some time, she reached the more militaristic part of Arcturus, military police and people in uniforms of all services greeting her as she walked towards the large, grey security hub, her intended goal being Section 13's own level within the building. Passing the entrance checkpoint quicker than most people, she threw a gaze towards the apartment building located across the small square and recalling that Redford should probably be there right about now. After all, she had ordered him to check on their guest every now and then.

She walked into the security hub and noted the contrast between its grey corridors and the brighter colours of the living quarters. But on the bright side, in here she wouldn't suffer any unwanted flashbacks.

The hub was a massive building that served as the central command of all HSA forces, taking up a sizeable part of Arcturus Station's military areas. Containing multiple levels for each service and security matters, the station also had a secret basement so to speak, a level only few people had access to. For other people the 'normal' basement marked the end of their journey. Not for her. The level was only accessible through an elevator that would require her clearance, an elevator she was now going towards, dodging uniformed people in the process who all looked like they were in a hurry. As she stood in front of the elevator, her curiosity got the better of her, causing her to follow one of them towards the central command which was abuzz with activity.

She entered the large room, countless of monitors and a holographic map of Arcturus in its center giving it a rather blue glow. Looking through the room, she picked up on the fact that everyone seemed to be focus on the same task, a rather unusual occurrence given Arcturus's size. Then she noticed the projection of space debris on the largest screen, causing her to grab a staff member by his arm to stop him.

"What happened?" she asked as the man turned to see who was holding him.

"Traffic accident," he offered. "Cargo freighter collided with a military transport carrying civilian contractors," he explained as he nodded at the screen. "Search and rescue is in progress, a shuttle is already bringing in some of the more serious injured."

"Civilian contractors?"

"Transcript says they are supposed to renovate some of the living units."

"During a time period when most of them are inhabited?" she asked as she let go of him and walked towards the chief of security, the head of the military police detachment of Arcturus Station. Why would Arcturus's logistical division hire contractors to renovate living units? The apartments were in top condition.

"Colonel?" she asked as the woman in the black-grey digital combat fatigues worn by the HSA Marine Corps turned around.

"Yes?" the officer asked as she turned towards the director, "Director Go-"

"The freighter collision, when did it happen?" she interrupted her.

"Seven minutes ago," the colonel replied. "It's nothing serious really," she assured her.

"One of the staff just said that a shuttle already brought in the heavily injured? How close was that crash?" she didn't like where this was going.

"Not nearly close enough for that," she realised. "Where did that medivac shuttle land?" she roared into the room.

"Bay Six, Ma'am," the man who had informed the director replied.

"Give me eyes on that hangar bay," she said as she turned towards a soldier manning a terminal near the largest screen in the room, the one currently depicting the results of the collision.

The man began to press a series of commands on his screen and soon the big screen shifted from displaying the debris of the two freighters to the inside of Bay Six, several Kodiak's, one of them marked as a medical transport, resting inside.

"Rewind to the moment that medical Kodiak landed," the colonel spoke as the feed traveled two minutes into the past, now showing a Kodiak touching down, its doors flying open and three black clad figures stepping out of it.

"Damn," the colonel said as the Widow Maker kept watching.

A member of the military police, his hand already going for his weapon, walked up to the group only for one of the figures to shoot an electrical burst out of an omni-tool, causing the soldier to collapse in pain before being dragged off by his attacker. Then another of the figures knocked on the shuttle and five other people sharing their appearance jumped out, shortly followed by a woman with short, black hair and dark-brown armor holding a pistol. Lastly a man wearing the red uniform of an IFS officer stepped out, carrying a roughly briefcase sized object in one hand and a pistol in the other, the scar running along the side of his head was the first thing she picked up on.

"Kamarov," she realised. "Sound a station wide evacuation. Non-essential personal and civlians need to get out of here, the rest has to get into their hardsuits."

"You heard her!" the colonel spoke as the staff of the control central shared a short look of uncertainty before an alarm echoed through Arcturus and they carried out her orders.

She pressed a button on her watch, a red glow following soon after she sent the message and turned towards the colonel, "I'll need a gun," she spoke, "and two shield generators."

"I can only give you the first," she replied as her hand reached for the service pistol holster on her leg, a SIS-8 and two additional magazines stashed inside. "Shield generators are in the armory, I'll tell them you're on your way."

"Sent heavy response teams to all essential systems. Where would a dirty bomb do the most damage?" she questioned into the room.

"Life support," one of the people, a woman in a naval uniform called. "A detonation would spread the powder through the station's air system all the while crippling one of the most essential systems. It's accessible through the maintenance level. Blowing it anywhere else wouldn't destroy the station itself, the bomb looks too small to tear apart Arcturus."

"That's where he'll go," the Widow Maker said as she looked at the colonel. "Can we get eyes on the entrance closest to Bay Six?"

Without having to say something else, the screen shifted from the hangar towards the maintenance levels, four dead military police members lying in a pool of their own blood.

"Get as many people of the station as you can, call in the fleet to help with the evacuation."

"Yes, Ma'am," the marine officer replied before relaying the orders.

"Fastest way to life support?," the Widow Maker went on.

"It's located in the center of Arcturus, right under the major living areas. I can get you a shuttle but it won't be able to fly inside the sublevels, they are far too narrow for that. You'll have to go into the tunnels on foot."

"Do it."

The colonel nodded and went to work as the director shot out of the command central, the corridors now even busier than when she had gotten here. She rushed through the hub, hoping that Redford had stuck to his timetable.

Bursting towards the armory, she spotted a sergeant standing in the door way, holding something in his hand and waving towards her. She ran towards him and was handed two of the small shield generators, clipping one into place as it powered up, and a pair of glasses that could stand in for a HUD. Without her hardsuit, it was the next best thing she'd get.

She jumped down the stairs, shoving people out of her way and came running through the security checkpoint, no one bothering to stop her as she headed for the Kodiak hovering in front of the hub, a tall man in an equally black uniform and a heavily armored Spectre already waiting next to it.

"What's going on?" she heard Redford call as she jumped into the shuttle, causing both him and Vasir to follow, the shuttle starting to lift off the moment the last one was inside. She tossed the remaining shield towards him as she began to talk. "Kamarov's on board," she explained, causing a noticeable confusion on the specialists face. "He's got eight of his elite assassins with him and another woman who looks like she's serious business."

"What's with the evacuation?" he went on as he grabbed one of the SR-7s strapped to the inside of the Kodiak's, serving the crew as weapons should they crash inside enemy territory before looking for

"He's got a bomb," she replied, "and he's going towards life support."

"Shit," the specialist said as he borrowed the magazine out of the other SR-7 before continuing to scavenge for gear. "Arcturus is in trouble if its nuclear."

"Which is why we can't let it detonate," the director said as she grabbed a hold of two radios, throwing one of them towards Lal Qila who caught it before putting its earpiece in.

"The chancellor has been evacuated," one of the pilots called from the cockpit as the lone Kodiak flew into the director others were coming from. There went the reason she came here in the first place. "He's being moved to the HSASV Shasta."

"How long to the sublevel?"

"The closest entrance to the maintenance level is just up ahead," the pilot replied as the shuttle began to descend. That had been a short ride. "You're on your own from here."

The doors opened and the Widow Maker jumped outside, two sets of thuds echoing shortly after she touched the ground.

"I'll patch you in with central command," she heard the pilot's voice over the radio. "Good luck."

The maintenance sublevel, connected to the living areas of Arcturus through several tunnels across the station, was a complex that stretched out underneath the majority of the station with the life support systems being located in its center. As they walked through the heavy blast door and down the stairs, she immediately noticed the difference. The air was dryer and hotter than before and the city-like look of Arcturus's inhabited areas, plants, water gardens and trees, were replaced by grey catwalks, machinery on the walls and the sound of everything that kept the station running.

"We've got to hurry," she said as they jogged towards the center of the sublevel. "Kamarov had a head start and somehow I don't believe that the military police has stopped his assassins," she added as she recalled the dead soldiers.

The IFS, while mostly made up of colonists given a rather short but still effective training, had taken care to pull the best of these recruits from their regular units and turn them into soldiers capable of conducting more complex operations, employing deserters or disgruntled veterans of the HSA's special forces to shape them into elite units of highly skilled killing teams, commonly known as assassins. In the past they had conducted sabotage, infiltration, assassinations, training of insurgents on other worlds and had even been bold enough to attempt to murder Chancellor Noé himself, only Section 13's timely intervention preventing their success.

In retrospective it was impressive that Harper had stopped fifteen of these guys on his own. With two of them lacking armor and gear, she somewhat doubted that they'd mirror his feed, even if there were just eight of them this time.. They'd have to rely on the asari to do the heavy lifting, being the only one of the three that had access to her full kit. Her biotics and experience would certainly come in useful if the report regarding Omega was anything to go by.

"Our main goal is to get a hold of that bomb," she said as they continued to run along the sublevel. "Everything else is second priority."

"The assassins are going to be a problem," Redford added. Like the Widow Maker himself, he had encountered them in the past. "You're our ace," he said as he turned towards Vasir, voicing the strategy the director had already made up in her mind. "They won't expect you."

"All forces be advised," the central command began to speak, "the Stalingrad just repelled a boarding attempt by the occupants of an escape pod it recovered. I say again, hostile forces are using the life pods to get onboard our vessels. Do not open them without marine detachments in the immediate area."

"Bloody hell," Redford muttered. "This day is getting worse by the minute."

"Life support is down that way," she said as they reached an intersection, the pair of glasses informing her of the way she had to go. Without them navigating the sublevel would've been a much harder task. She would have to thank the armory chief for thinking along later.

The group took the turn and kept running, the center of the life support system drawing closer with each step they took and soon they found themselves standing in front of another large blast door which wasn't supposed to be opened, yet clearly was.

The group of three slowed their pace as they stepped inside, her eyes catching sight of a couple dead technicians, two rough holes inside their heads where mass accelerator fire had cut them down. Wrong place, wrong time. She had to focus on saving everyone else, not regret failing those who had already died.

"Do you hear that?" the former Spectre pointed out and indeed the Widow Maker heard the faintest noise of foot steps hitting the metal of the sublevel. "We've gained on them," she noted.

"Alright, no need to lose the moment of surprise then," she began to whisper as the two specialists and the lone asari continued sneaking through the grey corridors, the hissing of machinery doing well to disguise the little sound they created. After roughly another minute of travel, they managed to spot the group, the backs of black armored figures appearing as they turned the corner, the light of the ceiling lamps reflecting of their backs as they left the corridor to step into a more open area, several levels appearing below them as they overlooked the center of the life support, only the railing of the catwalk keeping them at a distance.

Their three pursuers didn't intend to let them get there, now only a few dozen meters behind them. However the moment one of the separatists would turn around, they would be in trouble. The catwalk offered no cover and most of them were carrying ranged weapons, they'd be exposed, so with every meter they managed to close in undetected, they'd reduce the chance of being at an even bigger disadvantage in the inevitable engagement.

When they were almost right on top of the enemy group, one of them picked up on the faint steps behind them and shouted out a warning, his howl being interrupted as a purple streak shot into him and the man next to him, the asari making use of the one advantage the three had over the separatists, biotics. The assassins were thrown backwards into the group as Vasir drew their fire, her armor and barriers giving her the highest chances of surviving it. Then she sent purple ripples through the air, causing some of the group to stumble as the woman in dark-brown armor grabbed a hold of the railing to stabilize both herself and Kamarov whom she was holding onto aswell.

"Stop them," she heard Kamarov roar through the commotion as Redford and herself jumped into the fray, using the former Spectre's attack to close in. She saw him and the armored woman rush down towards the life support, before an assassin stepped into her path, his gun firing at her shields as she tried to get past him. The rounds were deflected just long enough for her to close in and smack the pistol aside before throwing a punch at his throat. Her foe deflected it with his palm mere inches before it could connect and transitioned into an elbow strike, only her incredible speed allowing the Widow Maker to avoid it by bring her own arm between his elbow and her face. As the force of the blow shot through her and the HUD glasses went flying over the railing, she pulled the colonel's pistol from its holster and began to fire at the assassin point blank, rounds being stopped by a kinetic barrier generator.

The assassin reacted to the threat as fast as he could, attempting to twist the pistol away from himself while jabbing at her face. In doing so he gave her just enough space to slip past him, smashing her forearm into his neck in the process, causing him to stumble forward, grabbing a hold of the railing in the process.

That was all she needed.

As she turned, now staring at the back of most of the assassins, she saw her two companions take them on, two already on the floor with their bodies twisted at an odd angle from where a biotically accelerated, armored asari had smashed into them. Another female looking assassin was lying on the floor with a ceramic blade jabbed into her neck, two of her comrades trying to get a line of fire on Vasir who was currently avoiding the slashes of another separatist's knife. Meanwhile another, particularly big one was engaged in a rather vicious looking grappling match with her fellow specialist, nasty punches being thrown by both sides as Redford managed to keep his foe between himself and the two assassins still holding onto their ranged weapons.

Summoning her strength she grabbed the assassins head just as he regained his composure and smashed it against the railing, once, twice, thrice, right until he went for his knife, causing her to jump away from him. The protective mask he was wearing was probably a lot more resilient than it looked. He slashed at her, coming close to cutting her multiple times right until another shot rang through the air, striking him into the shoulder and causing him to stop the current strike mid-air.

"Go!" the asari shouted towards her as she pistol whipped one of the separatists that had tried to attack her while she had taken the shot. "We'll keep them of your back," she spoke as the assassins recovered and tackled her to the ground.

The emotional part of her wanted to stay and fight but that part hadn't been calling the shots for years. The logical part of her brain made her run into the direction Kamarov had fled, leaving her companions to deal with the remaining assassins. Injured or not, six against two were hardly optimistic odds. She jumped down the stairs and chose to ignore the terrible feeling in her gut.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**

Redford saw the director rush after Kamarov as he manouvered the separatist between himself and his allies who were still trying to get a clear line of fire on either him or his companion, Tela. She was currently escaping the hold of another Iffy trying to pin her to the ground, her biotics giving her the clear advantage in close combat as she could use them to their fullest potential.

He sent a knee into the side of the separatist he was currently grappling with to give himself enough time to lock the man's neck in place before raising the assault rifle slung over his shoulder at another one, using his ally as a human shield. He pulled the trigger, the full-auto setting of the rifle allowing it to unleash its entire magazine in one squeeze, and saw the barriers of one of the gun carrying attackers shatter, a red mist shooting out of his back as the armor-piercing rounds loaded into the service rifle punched through his black armor. He let go of the SR-7, the bullpup rifle swinging back towards him thanks to its sling, and attempted to finish of the separatist in his hold, an armored glove driving into his gut just as he had turned his attention back to him.

The specialist tightened his hold in an attempt to squeeze the last bit of air, and fight, out of the assassin but the man had managed to turn his head just enough to keep Redford from doing that. Grabbing a hold of the specialist's arm, he spun himself out of the hold, opening Redford up to the wrath of the remaining gunman, pistol rounds smashing into the specialist's shields for a few seconds before a ripple sent the man flying, into the railing, bending the metal bars in the process and causing his pistol to fall of the catwalk.

Paying no further attention to him, Redford reached for the now empty SR-7 at his side and before even bothering to try and reload it in one go, he thrusted the muzzle of the gun into the assassin that had just escaped his hold, connecting with his gut while ejecting the empty magazine before smashing the stock of the rifle against his jaw, causing him to stumble back while the specialist went for his scavenged reserve, slapping it into place. The separatist, seeing what Redford was trying to do, charged him but was stopped in his tracks as a foot stomped against his knee, twisting it backwards and allowing the specialist to chamber a round.

The assassin, apparently thriving on adrenaline, managed to get up once more, jumping forward on one leg in a final attempt to get the gun but didn't reach Redford in time, a burst collapsing his kinetic barrier before tearing through his face, causing him to slump down, his hand reaching for Redford but ultimately dropping a few centimeters in front of the now stained shoes of his dress uniform.

Spinning around, he saw Tela throw one of the assassins over the railing, a nasty crunch accompanying the sound of him hitting the ground below. Taking aim at the one creeping up behind her, he managed to get a few rounds down range before the asari wheeled around and smashed a purple glowing fist into the face of the woman, killing her in the process.

That just left two, one of whom was injured, adjusting his stance he shifted his aim only to find the assassin charging him with a knife. Considering his kinetic barriers and his armor, Redford knew he wouldn't be able to down him. Instead the specialist used the SR-7 to block the first attempt of stabbing him, sidestepping the man with a bleeding shoulder in the process and forcing him to wheel around. The separatist twisted the blade in his hand and spun around, the sharp tip of a combat knife now rushing for Redford's face. In the last second the specialist let go of his SR-7, his hands shooting up to block the strike as both of his forearms smashed against the arm guard of the assassin, the very nasty feeling of a fractured wrist shooting through his left hand.

Letting out an angry grunt, the specialist retaliated, quickly grabbing a hold of the assassin's arm, smashing one of his palms against the man's elbow, the crunch followed by the blade falling to the ground indicating that he had managed to break it. The assassin's other hand went for the knife, Reford only a little bit to slow with his attempt to kick it away. He felt this mistake the moment the tip of the blade punctured through the fabric of his uniform, now stuck in thigh. The sting only served to make his next move even more vicious. As the assassin tried to withdraw the blade, Redford cracked the SR-7 over his head, causing him to let go of the blade again as he dropped to the ground. The specialist leveled the rifle at his head, squeezing the trigger until blood shot out of the assassin's head, marking Redford's fourth kill of the day.

As another shot rang out behind him, he spun around, pain shooting through him as he did but the thought of yet another assassin engaging him overwriting the feeling . However he only found the last separatist drop to his knees, a large hole inside his chest as he keeled over, Tela standing over him with a gun in her hand, her armor somewhat bloodied but otherwise surprisingly uninjured considering everything.

The asari rushed over to him as she spotted the knife stuck in his leg, the pain finally getting to him as he flet himself lean against the railing, the SR-7 now dangling on its sling alone.

"Why is it that every time I go somewhere with you, people try to kill me?" she joked.

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," he chuckled before grunting in pain.

"We got to get you to a medic," she urged as she went to assist him.

"Go after the director," he countered as he waved her away, "she'll need all the help she can get."

"Alright, I'll come ba-" she began as she went into the direction of the stairway but her sentence was interrupted as something shook the catwalk around them, causing her to stop and turn around. "What was that?"

"Call me crazy but was that a lifepod?" he guessed.

* * *

 **Five Minutes Earlier**

She jumped down the stairs while dodging rounds, fired at her by the armored woman who had turned around to cover Kamarov's advance, by sliding behind a piece of machinery, the sound of the small pellets flying through the air above her a very familiar one. Waiting for the inevitable stop, she switched the magazine of the SIS-8 in her hand and once the pistol of her foe seized to fire, she leaped over the piece of machinery, squeezing the trigger in the process and seeing her bullets punch against a kinetic barrier.

These things really had been easier in the past.

Once her feet connected with the ground, she decided to get up close and personal, the kinetic barriers wouldn't be able to stop something as slow as melee combat and the fact that her foe had decided against wearing a helmet made the move somewhat less suicidal. She would lose a fire fight because she lacked armor, she may just be able to come out on top against the other woman, even if being punched by an armored gauntlet was not exactly her favorite feeling in the world.

Closing the gap with a dash that would've made even her younger self jealous, the Widow Maker expended the magazine of her pistol more as a distraction than an actual attack, leaping at the woman and smashing the SIS-8 across her temple.

Should've worn a helmet.

They both went to the ground and it soon became obvious that while skilled, this woman was not on the level of the far more dangerous forces she had left her allies to deal with. She managed to block another strike of the pistol with one of her hands but failed to stop the director's other hand from hammering into her nose, blood shooting out of it as it broke. Dazed but still somewhat aware of her surroundings, the separatist tried to reach for her own pistol, which had fallen to the ground alongside the two opponents, but was stopped dead in her tracks when the Widow Maker kept pounding her face with a series of punches. When she realised that her foe had stopped struggling, she rose from the unconscious body before emptying the rest of her second magazine into her face, killing her in the process.

She looked up and saw Kamarov kneel down over the object he had brought with him. The man had managed to reach the center of the life support, a large machine responsible for air recycling in front of him and a small corridor leading away from it. One of the catwalks overlooking the circular area lighting up as the sound of an SR-7 being fired echoed through the chamber. At least Redford was still fighting.

As if the universe was helping him, Kamarov turned around just as the director reloaded her weapon with the final magazine, a boxy pistol shooting bullets at her as she dove to the side, only catching a glimpse of the tablet attached to the bomb. She pulled back the slide of her pistol and waited until he stopped firing before once more advancing. The Butcher of Elysium was roughly ten meters away from her, in terms of combat that was a lot of distance to cover without being shot. Rushing out of her cover, she saw Kamarov rise from the ground, a series of rapidly declining digits visible on the device he had just tinkered with.

She'd have to be quick.

Andrej Kamarov raised the pistol again, apparently having saved some of the heat-sink just for this occasion, and fired at her, rounds jumping off her shield as she realised that she couldn't afford another leap into cover. Instead she chose to risk it. One of Kamarov's miniscule rounds overloaded her shields and another grazed her arm, leaving a hot, burning sensation in its wake. The third and final round Kamarov got off before she reached him buried itself in her own gut, one of the most painful places to be hit. In turn she managed to shatter his own kinetic barriers with several well placed shots before hitting the man once just above the hip and twice into the chest, another two rounds missing when she received Kamarov's final round. Shooting a glance at the tablet on the final meters of her dash, she noticed that the man had set a timer, a timer which was currently at three minutes and ten seconds.

She collided with him, causing the man to hit his head on the grey, metal floor, red blood leaking from a wound on the back of his skull as she pointed her pistol at him, only for it to click empty as he smirked at her before striking her injured abdomen with a punch, causing her to roll of him in pain. The director, now laying next to Kamarov reacted just in time to avoid his wrath. Throwing a messy punch at the Butcher as he attempted to get on top of her, she connected with the scarred side of his head, causing him to clutch it in pain.

She forced herself to shoot up as the edges of her vision became somewhat blurry, headbutting Kamarov in the process and removing him from her path as his blood ran into her own eyes. The pain slowed her down but her will kept her from giving in. Seizing the opportunity, she drove another punch into Kamarov's face, hitting him just under his eye and feeling the bone crack upon contact. Having bought herself some time, she turned towards the device.

Her face drew into an expression of horror as she looked at the tablet and realized that the countdown had already lost the two in front of it, now only one minute and fifty seconds remaining before it detonated. Her eyes darted between the device and the room. She was in no condition to defuse it but as her eyes caught the 'Emergency Escape' sign above the corridor, she realised that she may just get it away far enough from Arcturus.

She grunted as she stumbled over to the device, blood dripping on floor as the wounds inflicted by Kamarov opened themselves further due to her movements. Grabbing a hold of the bomb with one hand while keeping her other one on the wound in a vain attempt to stop the flow of blood, she began a steady advance towards the corridor. Soon she spotted the escape pod the sign had promised, most likely meant to evacuate technicians working in the area in the event of Arcturus being critically damaged. The effort she had to put into each step grew as the distance between herself and the pod shrank but as she tossed the device inside, a sense of relief washed over her. Now she just had to launch it.

Her hands reached for the lever next to the pod but before she could pull it, she felt a heavy form smash into her, carrying both of them into the pod as the digits on the bomb climbed to one minute.

Kamarov, in spite of his injuries, had trailed her and was now sitting on top of her, his hands wrapping around her throat as he began to choke her.

"I told you that you'd pay," he spat out a bit of blood.

Attempting to remove the hands on her throat, her fingers slipped away as her own blood prevented her from getting a grip strong enough to pry Kamarov off of her.

Then she spotted the red 'Launch' button behind them and kicked for it, coming just short of it as Kamarov pushed down harder.

"The HSA will bleed," Kamarov continued his monologue as her vision shifted between blurry and black, "starting here all of you will bleed," he said as he leaned down to crush her windpipe faster.

This was the opening she had hoped for.

She reached up and punched the already injured side of his face, causing him to let out an unearthly scream and lose his grip on her throat. The director didn't waste any time, well aware of the fact that she'd bleed out sooner than later, and shoved him off just enough for her foot to be able to reach the button.

Kicking it with just forty seconds remaining on the timer, the small door shut itself, a camera attached to the outside of the pod showing her how it distanced itself from Arcturus's belly, the station's shape growing smaller as the thrusters of the pod designed to escape its explosion fired up.

She heard the coughing next to her and turned her head ever so slightly to see both Kamarov and the bomb, the later stained by the blood of the two people sharing an escape pod with it, lying on the floor

"You ruined it, you ruined my masterpiece" he whispered as he stared at the ceiling. "My plan should've-," he spoke in disbelief before growing even more silent, "I lost."

"Do you know why the IFS will always lose? Why people like you will always lose?" the director asked weakly as she placed a hand on her gut, feeling the blood run out of it. "Because at the end of the day you've never fought for anything but your own agenda."

"The HSA is no different," he replied with surprising clarity. Twenty seconds remaining, Arcturus was growing ever smaller in the distance. This should do.

"Yes it is," she replied.

"Is it?" Kamarov said as he turned to her. "You only fought to keep us under your rule, to preserve your own order."

"No, we fight for something else entirely. Something you lost a long time ago, Kamarov," she coughed as the clear picture of a family playing next to a water garden appeared in her mind. She'd be home soon enough.

"And what would that be?" he gasped between a weak laugh.

Ten seconds. This was it.

"Humanity," she smiled as she closed her eyes just as the display shifted to a five.

Neither of the two felt the end, Kamarov's bomb annihilating itself, them, the escape pod but nothing else in the blink of an eye.

* * *

 _Codex: Independet Fringe Systems Defense Force_

 _The militias that made up the bulk of IFS forces in the beginning of the Fringe Wars eventually evolved from small, local units relying on the moment of surprise into a large, well trained and equipped, centralized force capable of going blow for blow with all but the biggest HSA units._

 _After wrestling control of important industrial centers from the HSA, the IFS was capable of producing its own wargear and the Separatis Seven soon began to establish their own armed forces, recruiting people of all walks of life to be trained by people with past military experience that had sided with the IFS. However in the beginning these groups were not unified under a central authority, acting as a military for their world rather than the IFS._

 _Upon the foundation of the Senate of the Independent Fringe Systems, another organisation was founded. The Independent Fringe System Defense Force, uniting all militias, commandeered or newly constructed space ships and military assets of the IFS under one banner and one motto, De Oppresso Liber, to free the oppressed._

 _The IFSDF soon realised that they required a unit to conduct high risk operations and started the practice of pulling the most promising recruits of their ranks into the 1st Specialized Regiment, a group that soon earned themselves the nickname of 'assassins' within HSA' ranks,a name the IFS came to fully embrace._

 _Until infighting shattered the leadership of the IFS, resulting in the deaths of every important military commander besides the head of the Defense Force's navy, the IFSDF had managed to engage the HSA combined military foces in a mixture of asymmetrical and conventional warfare depending on the theatre of war. IFSDF forces either disbanded themselves or withdrew into the more disorganized 'cells' they had been during the beginning of the war upon the revelation that their leadership had been plotting behind their back._

 _Military analysts suggest that the IFSDF would've been able to fight the HSA's combined forces for at least another five years before the numerical advantage of the later would've forced them into a conventional defeat, given that no other planets would've joined the rebellion in the time period._

* * *

 ** _So, chapter 22 is done, marking the end of the next story segment, the last being the one about Haliat and the Reaper foreshadowing. I hope I gave the two people who died a worthy send off and I hope I didn't describe things in a too brutal fashion... sometimes I get carried away trying to make these fights realistic. No kidding, I spent half an hour on the floor trying to see if the stuff I was writing would actually work. It does, if it doesn't then that's probably because of the translation or my inabiltiy to describe stuff._**

 ** _Anyway, I tried to make this chapter longer than usual and going from here on out the next couple of chapters will probably be a little shorter and the focus will probably drift away for a bit after this very HSA centric story arc. All of this had to be done though, for reasons. Reasons some of you may or may not know. Just know that I know the basic storylines that will lead up to ME 1 and how they are relevant. As of now I've not planned anything that doesn't have a reason to be there._**

 ** _Now for the record, 156 reviews, 341 favorites and 425 follows. Bit lacking in the review department this time but I'm sure you had your reasons. I hope more of you care to share your thoughts with me this time around._**

 ** _Do I have something else to say? Not really, I think. Review. I need my fix._**

 ** _See you around next time._**


	23. Fallout

**Chapter 23. Fallout**

* * *

 **22\. May 2390 AD, Cronos Station**

"What about you? You outrank me," the man sighed.

"You've got seniority over me and I'm technically no longer part of Section 13, more like a honorary member," the other one spoke.

"What about Scarecrow? He's been at it longer than either of us and he's still active duty, no honorary member."

"He's tied down with his other duties. Supervising a new agent is always a handful but I don't have to tell you that," the other member of the conversation said as he lit up a cigarette, the orange glow standing in contrast with the artificial blue eyes above it.

"I've got my hands full as well," the man reasoned.

"So do I," Harper replied. "Like it or not, until someone else is appointed, you're the one in charge. I didn't make the rules but I certainly approve of the one they picked," the man argued as Tao Rei himself frowned. The recent death of the previous director meant that the organisation's protocols for emergency succession would step in, leading to a series of factors, among them availability, seniority, rank and area of expertise, being used to determine who was next in line to lead the HSAIS's Section 13 of the Bureau for Field Work. As things were he had recently been notified that it was in fact his responsibility.

"We both know that Section 13 will need a leader with our perspective," his former partner added.

"Our perspective?" Tao asked as he waved away some of the smoke that had made its way towards him.

"We're the only humans alive to have ever witnessed these things in action," Harper replied as he looked at the sleek design encountered during his encounter in 2379 and Tao's in 2388 respectively. "We've seen just what's in store for us some time down the line."

The agent, now pressed into a situation in which he would have to step up to a position he never really wanted to have in the first place, sighed, Jack had a point. The 'Leviathan of Dis' had tossed a very disturbing theory into the field. A theory fueled by an unknown contact within the salarian STG, a contact he had been ordered to track down but hadn't found as of now.

"A word of advice," the man sitting in the chair told him as he inhaled more smoke. "I know the director was going to talk to the chancellor about," he paused for a moment, "the developing situation."

"I'm still going to do that, Jack," Tao spoke.

"Noé might be the only politican I trust to be of any help in this," his former partner surprised him. "I've been considering to bring him into the fold for some time now. Whoever may come after him might not be half the leader he is."

"Where are you going with this?" Tao asked.

"We should do it as soon as possible. Noé isn't getting any younger nor is the next election going to be as one-sided as the last one. Previously Francis Noé was the chancellor who ended the Fringe Wars and introduced humanity to a greater galactic community. Now he's the chancellor under which the IFS rose from its ashes and thousands of our people met their deaths at the hands of said greater galactic community. Won't be the same landslide victory," the head of Cerberus argued.

"Why not bring all of this up to the Widow Maker?" Tao shrugged. Harper had been rather quiet about this entire matter ever since one of his missions had sent Tao to come face to face with another Object Omnicron.

"The director lacked our perspective on the matter. She wouldn't have listened to me. I don't know what changed her mind in the end but I know that she would want us to continue her work," Harper explained as he dipped the cigarette into the ashtray, causing its fainting orange glow to become stronger as it was liberated of the already burned wrapping. "You're the best pick for this. You've seen it first hand. With you as Section 13's director and me as the head of Cerberus, we can come a long way."

"Let's just hope that the way will be long enough," Tao said as the man sitting across from him exhaled some more smoke. "When are you going to Arcturus?"

"When are we going to Arcturus," Jack corrected. "I already have a frigate enroute to pick us up. This is a matter neither one of us should break to him alone."

"So much for settling in," Tao muttered. It made sense for the two of them to do this together, as Jack had already said, they had a unique perspective on the matter. "When are we leaving?"

"Two hours."

"Thanks for the heads-up," the newly appointed director chuckled.

"Always," the other man replied. "Just be there, I've already gathered everything we know right here," he held up a tablet.

* * *

 **24\. May 2390 AD, Arcturus Station**

The station's evacuation had been rather quick. Getting everyone back on it was the long part. Marine teams had just finished searching Arcturus's every corner on the small chance that someone had evaded the scanners of the security hub and therefore most people were still in the process of being transported back to their workplaces or homes on the station. The chancellor wasn't most people. He had been brought back as soon as possible to get back to work and the thought of what exactly the deceased director wanted to talk about lingering at the corner of his mind ever since he had run into his assistant on the Shasta.

He stepped into his office and looked out of the window, the darkness of space greeting him as a green vessel floated by, another cruiser ready to release the people that had fled onto it during Kamarov's attack back on the station.

"You've got to stop doing that. Some day you'll give me a heart attack," he addressed the two man in black uniforms that had already been lingering in the corner of his office when he had walked in. "How do you keep getting in here anyway?"

"There's something we have to talk about, Chancellor," Harper spoke as he stepped forward without answering his question. "But first I'd like you to meet Tao Rei, the newly appointed director of Section 13."

"I've already been notified of your change in leadership," Noé said as he shook the man's hand. "I'm going to lean out of the window and say this is about the same thing the previous director wanted to talk about?"

"Yes," Harper simply replied as he pointed towards the chair. "This is going to take a while, you should sit down."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Noé sighed as headed for his chair, a tablet being handed to him once he set down. What he read and saw in the next ten minutes shook him to the core of his very being.

It began in 2379 when an IFS mining operation dug up a device Section 13 called 'Object Omnicron', something apparently capable of altering the physiology of any organic creature through invasive implants and having a limited influence over them. The device was destroyed shortly after its discovery and records of the incident were sealed from anyone outside of the organisation, for good reasons by the looks of it. The images of twisted, cybernetically enhanced humans combined with the somewhat eerily design of the sleek, purple metal object were the stuff nightmares were made out of. Chancellor Noé stared at a picture dated in the year 2379, and noticed the bluish skin of the human he was looking at, tubes were running out of his mouth and his fingers had been tipped with sharp metal claws, bundles of hair still visible on his otherwise bald head, fine lines running under his skin. Finally he noticed the eyes of the creature. They looked familiar.

"Prosthetics," he spoke as he turned to Harper. "Could've fooled me."

"I've been cleared for duty after multiple check-ups," Harper assured him as Noé read about the two men who had conducted the mission to destroy the object, Harper and Rei. "It's unknown why I wasn't effected like the rest. We believe time of exposure is paramount for the process to be successful. I merely touched it for a few seconds."

Then Noé read about the incident nine years later and noted the fact that the specialist that had conducted this mission had been Tao Rei, the newly appointed director standing in front of him. He noted that he encountered a turian special operations team on the ground and that only their combined efforts managed to stop their target from leaving the planet, the footage of a turian with fine blue lines pinning another, smaller one against a wall as his metal talon tightened around the throat of the soldier added to the report. The similarity between this turian and the human victims of the other incident were noticeable although the former's modifications were rather sophisticated compared to the butcher's work that had been done on the IFS mining crew.

"You've waited eleven years to tell me this?" Noé muttered as his eyes narrowed. A weapon capable of perverting the very nature of a living being, twisting them into thralls of something refered to as 'Harbinger' in the reports. Something that was apparently being tracked by both the salarians and the turians as well.

"Sir, I've been clea-" the director began to defend himself.

"I'm not talking about you, Harper. I'm talking about everything else."

"We didn't know that the Omnicrons were part of something bigger until recently," the new director of Section 13 said. "We spent nine years thinking the one on Shanxi was unique, a remnant of a war fought there long ago. We only started actively looking for a connection two years ago, when the last one was destroyed with the help of a turian team I met along the way."

"Even then, two years. Why now?" Noé asked. "What changed?"

"The Leviathan of Dis made it clear that we're merely looking at a small part of a much bigger picture, a picture neither Cerberus nor Section 13 can fully comprehend on their own at the moment," Director Rei spoke.

Noé turned his attention back to the tablet, reading about the large 'corpse' of something referred to as a 'genetically engineered' spaceship that had been found by a batarian survey team on Jartar. The information on it hadn't been gathered by a human team. Instead Cerberus had received stolen reports and classified footage from a salarian STG team that had managed to sneak through the blockade the Batarian Hegemony had placed on the world. Whoever had been responsible for the leak hadn't been found yet as far as this file was concerned. To top things off the last director had voiced her concerns about the age of this Leviathan, one billion years, and the fact that the age of the Object Omnicrons paled in comparison. She had been worried that their creators may have simply left them behind from a previous war.

"What do you propose we do about all of this?" Noé asked as he himself began to process all of this as fast as possible.

"Allow us to reach out to the turians. At least one of their generals knows about this, he was the leader of the ground team I encountered," Rei went on, "and more importantly, promise us that none of this ever leaves this room. You can't tell anyone, not yet."

"We don't have enough evidence to fully back up all of these theories," Harper added. "Making them public would be disastrous."

He had a point. One way or another the public would lose faith in the HSA, either through branding all of them as crazy or through the fact that this had been kept classified as long as it has. They were in a no-win situation.

"Normally I'd say that the people have a right to know something of this magnitude but this situation is hardly normal," Noé spoke. "I want you to increase your efforts and I'm asking Section 13 to keep looking for the STG source."

"What about the turians?" Rei said. "They have the same first hand experience we do."

"I'm getting there, Director Rei. General Arterius, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Sir," the man answered.

"Try to find him and figure out how much he told his own government, do so in person, you've met him before, that has to count for something. Inform me once you know more."

The newly appointed director nodded as Noé turned towards Harper.

"While Section 13 will try to establish contacts within other races, Cerberus will keep doing what you've already been doing. Figure out as much about all of this as you can. From now on I'm making this your top-priority, do you understand? Shift assets away from other projects if you have to, assign more members of your research division on this matter if you have to. From now on this 'Harbinger' is Cerberus's first concern."

"Yes, Sir," Harper said in the same fashion his companion had done seconds ago.

"Figure out if the Shadow Broker knows anything about this, as much as I hate the guy, he might be useful in this particular case," Noe suggested. "Your suggestion of increasing the security of our colonies is something I can help you with as well. Under the premise of preparing for slaver raids and a possible proxy war with the Hegemony I could bring the parliament to increase our military budget. Kamarov's little stunt may very well help sway their opinion on the matter," Noé said as rose from his desk. "However there's something else I need to know."

"What is it, Sir?" Harper asked.

"When will all of this go down?" he asked as he leaned on the desk.

"We don't know," the director of Cerberus replied. "However we're afraid that it will happen within our lifetime. The turian on Nonuel made it sound like this Harbinger would make his move sooner than later. He said that there's no future for his people."

"Doesn't exactly sound like something you'd say in regards to an event that isn't imminent," Rei added.

"So you're basing this assumption on the testimony of a brainwashed turian?" Noé chuckled. "Don't get me wrong," he said as he held up the tablet. "I agree that there's something to it, I just don't see how you came to this conclusion."

"It's our job to assume the worst, Sir," Harper offered. "No matter how farfetched it sounds. You wanted me to be humanity's guard dog, now I'm asking you to trust my instincts. Even if we're wrong about the timing, something's coming, Sir. The Widow Maker agreed, otherwise she wouldn't have changed her mind on brining you in on this."

"Excuse me?"

"She only changed her mind after Elysium and we don't even know why. Before Kamarov she argued that your status as an elected leader meant that you may not be as much of a help as we'd need you to be. We disagree with that notion," Harper said as he gestured towards Rei.

"She had a point," Noé admitted. "I may not stay in power as long as you need me to."

"Which is why we can't waste time debating if this happens tomorrow or in thirty years," Rei said. "We came to you because you've lead us through the Fringe Wars."

"What else do you want me to do?" Noé asked as he retrieved a bottle from a cabinet in his office.

"Help as long as you can," Rei spoke.

"I can't tell you how long that'll be."

"Which is why we need you to put your faith in us right now," Harper urged.

"Very well," Noé said after a mere moment of consideration. Others may have taken much longer to make a decision of such importance but after spending 25 years in the cockpit of a carrier fighter craft Francis Noé had grown used to make important decisions at a moments notice. Furthermore the situation as described to him really didn't make 'no' an option.

"Thank you, Sir," Harper said.

"We promised to be ever vigilant. Can't go back on that promise in face of something like that," setting down the unopened bottle, Noé picked up a folder from the same cabinet and opened it on his table. He could drink later. "Now if you'd excuse me. I still have to finish up the Treaty of Farixen matter."

"Of course, Sir."

"And Harper?" he said in an usually deep tone, stopping them from opening the door.

"Yes, Sir?"

"From here on, no more secrets. Especially regarding yourself," Noé said as the men were about to leave his office.

"Understood, Sir."

* * *

 **1\. June 2390 AD, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

Goyle drew in a rather long breath before stepping in front of the three councilors, Benezia, Ioventus and Idril. The veto the turian councilor had called five years ago was now no longer standing in the way of debating the Treaty of Farixen and the fact that the HSA would not be able to sign it without having to deconstruct some of its dreadnoughts due to the limitations it put on the ships was still standing in mankind's way of achieving associate status with the Citadel Council.

There were several approaches she had been instructed to try. First of she was supposed to throw every political good will humanity had collected over the last seven years into the pool, hoping that it would pave the road for the next step of the plan, offer parts of the human navy, especially the dreadnoughts which couldn't exist if the HSA wanted to become an associate, to take over patrol duties within Citadel Council space, bargaining its assistance in exchange for keeping its ships.

The second approach was to abuse a loophole so to speak, modifying some Everest-Classes to no longer fit the technical definition of a dreadnought and allowing the HSA to sidestep the Treaty of Farixen in the process. While the chancellor had told her to avoid this if possible, it was still within the acceptable perimeters of the negotiation.

The third approach was the absolute last resort. Agree to dismantle the oldest dreadnoughts within the navy and replace the losses through the accelerated production of carriers and assault carriers. While the Everest-Classes were no longer being constructed, now replaced by the much newer Kilimanjaro-Classes, they were still an integral part of human naval doctrine, serving as more than just long range artillery ships. Losing most of them, the Treaty of Farixen only allowing any associate to have five dreadnoughts, matching the current number of Kilimanjaro-Classes in service, would mean that eight Everest classes would have to be withdrawn from active duty and that a lot of funding would have to be shifted to replace the loss in capital ships and force projection. This approach would be the worst deal.

"Good day, Ambassador Goyle," Benezia greeted her as she stood between her two colleagues, radiating a far cry from the sense of superiority that had surrounded Tevos . "As you are aware, today marks an important day for both the Citadel Council and humanity."

"We've gathered to continue the debate that was vetoed by Councilor Ioventus five years ago," Idril went on in the usual style of the three councilors. The asari would begin their statement, the salarian would go on with the facts and the turian would give it a serious edge at the end. "This meeting will not be adjourned until a conclusion has been reached."

"The last five years have been eventful for all of us and we've gathered quite the impression of your species," Ioventus finished. "The Council will now hear your case, Ambassador Goyle."

"Honored councilors," she began. "Over the course of the last seven years, ever since our people first fought together on the ground of Parnack, both opportunities and threats have greeted my people and our species have learned from each other," she said as she looked at the members of the council, "fought side by side with each other and worked hand in hand to ensure that the evils of this galaxy don't triumph over us. We've been plotted against and we've been attacked where it hurt most but in spite of all of that, we prevailed. Humanity has proven that it is capable of being a productive member of the galactic community and it is my believe that events such as the our war against criminal syndicates, the liberation of slaves, our pursuit of justice for the galactic code of law and the recent arrival of human recruits to C-SEC confirm that the HSA is willing not only to work with the Council but willing to do its own part in maintaining peace for the galaxy, something not every race is capable of doing."

This part of her speech was intended to be provocative, the whispers it drew from volus, elcor, hanar or batarian diplomats overlooking this meeting from the ranks above the chamber were telling Goyle that it was working. The point of this provocation was to draw attention to the fact that the HSA was in fact surprisingly strong for a non-council member, a combination of unchecked expansion into the Attican Traverse, a rather large pool of resources, a natural aptitude to taking risks and a sizeable fleet making it stand out among the other associate members in one way or another.

"It is because of this willingness that I ask the Council to consider the following suggestion," Goyle spoke. "The HSA is aware that our navy harms the conditions of the Treaty of Farixen, a treaty drafted during a time my people weren't even capable of traveling across certain parts of our own home." Humbleness was the next part of her strategy, no need to sound arrogant before the part bargaining, "and while we are willing to conform to these limitations through either the refit or deactivation of our older dreadnoughts, we ask that the Council considers the unique situation we find ourselves in at the moment. Ever since the treaty was signed, no one who exceeded its ratio has come into contact with the Citadel Council. No race upon first contact has ever possessed the number of dreadnoughts humanity has access to and for this reason the Human Systems Alliance offers that, in exchange for maintaining our current fleet, we do something no other aspiring associate has done before. Offer parts of our navy to aid the Council in maintaining peace across its borders and do our part in maintaining the galactic peace. The recent years have left us with experienced crews and battle-tested strategies, both of which we are willing to apply for the greater good of the galaxy if the Citadel Council allows us to maintain our dreadnoughts with the promise that we won't increase the number of vessels we currently possess of the class until the Treaty of Farixen would allow us to do so."

When she finished her speech, she heard the first whispers turn into disbelieving shouts, rather batarian sounding voices now calling to 'remove the arrogant primitive from the chambers'. She had expected the volus, hanar or elcor to have less of a problem with this. The first were still a client race of the Hierarchy which meant that they had to share the turian position on the Treaty of Farixen while the later two wouldn't complain about an addition to the fleets protecting them. The batarian reaction had been anticipated as well. They were far more militant than any other client race and had a history of using their dreadnoughts as a means of force projection and intimidation while being forced to conform to the Treaty of Farixen through the might of the Citadel Council.

"There will be order on the ranks," a distinctively turian voice flanged through the chamber.

"What would this redesign look like?" the turian councilor asked after the chatter had settled down.

"A dreadnought, by definition, is a ship that possesses a mass accelerator spanning the entire spine of the vessel. Our Everest-Class dreadnoughts, for maintenance reasons, have modular main guns, meaning that we have considered taking away parts of the gun, making it no longer a dreadnought, and fill the empty space with other installations. We would be willing to have agents of the council oversee the refitting process, currently known as Project Chimera, to confirm that the vessels no longer fit the technical description of a dreadnought."

The councilors shared a look. "Using a loophole," the salarian commented. "Unorthodox and most likely expensive."

"We like to see it as finding common ground," Goyle explained. "Deconstructing dreadnoughts would have a serious impact on several parts of our society, modifying them would lessen the blow."

"You would still be willing to begin deconstruction should there be no alternative?" Benezia asked.

"As a last resort, yes," Goyle didn't like where this was going.

"Good. There is truth to everything you say, Ambassador Goyle," Benezia began to speak after both of her colleagues nodded towards her. For some reason she suspected that they had decided on the outcome of this before hand. She braced herself for the demand. "Humanity has proven that it is capable of being a functioning member of the galactic community, one willing to not only cooperate but also willing to take responsibility," Benezia began.

This didn't exactly sound like the beginning of the 'decommission your dreadnought'-speech she had expected.

"Furthermore the Treaty of Farixen was never intended to force the deconstruction of already existing dreadnoughts, but to limit the number of vessels a race can construct. The uniqueness of your situation has been considered," the salarian went on, "and past events have shown that the Citadel Council has to adapt a changing galaxy. The Treaty of Farixen was never meant to be applied in the way it would have to be applied to you."

Interesting. Were they actually going where she thought they were going?

"The galaxy is neither as unified nor as safe as some may believe. There will always be those who prey on the defenseless," the turian started to form the last part of the Council's response, "and because of their kind the Council welcomes a people who are willing to not simply seek shelter behind our fleets but take an active part in defending the community they strive to be a part of. The duty of ensuring peace across Citadel space is one many shy away from since the responsibility to do so is one few are capable of taking on. You do not shy away and past events, among them the deeds of your C-SEC candidates, have shown that humanity is capable of pulling more than just its own weight."

"We believe that your willingness to take on this responsibility is an admirable example to the rest of the galactic community," Benezia surprisingly began again. They were breaking their pattern, "and therefore see enough of a reason to consider your first proposal. All those in favour of accepting it may now raise their hand."

Goyle expected Ioventus to do so. The turians were long since growing tired of doing the lion share of peacekeeping and harbored a lot of sympathy for the HSA. They'd welcome any assistance. However the salarian and asari hands that rose at the same time surprised her. The sound of batarian outrage that followed through the chambers mere moments later did not. She had studied the Council's history. Keeping the interests of all associates balanced was not possible, every decision they made drew the ire of at least one race. In this instance it had drawn the ire of the batarians who were the only associate race that maintained several dreadnoughts themselves.

"Order," Benezia commanded as she stopped whoever was supposed to maintain the calm atmosphere within the chambers from doing there job. "The Council has decided. The HSA will be granted an exclusive stance towards the Treaty of Farixen on the grounds of their unique situation and their willingness to take on more responsibility than other associate members. This meeting is now adjourned."

"Thank you, honored councilors," Goyle simply replied. She did not expect this to go down as smoothly as it did.

"We will contact you once its time to finish the process of becoming an associate, Ambassador Goyle," Benezia spoke and no one dared to raise their voice above a whisper.

"Until then we'll make the necessary preparations to include human vessels into the patrol scheduel."

Goyle respectfully nodded her head before turning to leave the chambers, walking past the C-SEC officers guarding them and noticing the four-eyed glares that were being thrown her way from the upper ranks. The batarians weren't happy that much was evident.

As she walked down the steps towards her security detail, she could already make out the sound of an argument and soon enough she could see the batarian ambassador, Jath'Amon, and his honor guard, their crimson armor making them stand out compared to the bluish uniforms C-SEC was clad in. The batarian was trying to make his way past the C-SEC detail and towards the chambers she had just left, the backs of her own security detail turned towards her as they lingered behind the C-SEC officers.

"I am sorry, I can't let you go inside, Ambassador Amon," a salarian C-SEC officer tried to defuse the situation, "an appointment or a summoning is required to meet the councilors."

"The Council will hear the batarian delegation, now," the much heavier, light-brown skinned batarian countered as he titled his head to the right, "and you will step out of my way or suffer for your insolence."

"If you don't move out of the way, we'll make you," one of the batarians threatened as Goyle coughed to draw the attention of the man in black uniform.

"I take it things went better than expected?" Alec Shepard asked as he notice Goyle's smile and the rest of the soldiers realised that the person they were supposed to protect had arrived.

"Much better."

"You won't threaten any of my officers," a flanging voice declared as an armored C-SEC officer joined the argument in front of them by walking between the ambassador and his salarian colleague. The black-plated turian towering above the batarian ambassador was the head of C-SEC's Enforcement Division, Venari Pallin. "Leave the premise and put in a request or be removed."

"Something tells me we should get out of here," the specialist chuckled as the argument grew more heated, "though part of me wants to see this."

"Word," Goyle agreed as the human delegation began to walk past them.

"The Hegemony demands a meeting," the batarian repeated angrily.

"I don't care what the Hegemony demands," the turian stood his ground as more C-SEC officers arrived to the commotion to back up their superior.

"Step out of my way, turian," Jath'Amon demanded as he got closer to the turian, his overweight, small frame looking rather pathetic compared to the tall, bulky turian.

"You're not nearly as intimidating as you think you are, batarian," Pallin countered as he dropped his usual courtesy, the humans now walking right past them and the angry grunting coming from the crimson-armored batarians causing Goyle to turn towards them, one flashing his pointy teeth at her before once more returning his attention towards the turian standing in their path.

"I'll inform the Executor of your behaviour," the batarian 'diplomat' spoke as the turian's mandibles twisted into the equivalent of a smirk as Jath'Amon began to retreat, apparently realising his mistake as the much bigger turian failed to react to his attempt of intimidation.

"See if he cares."

* * *

 **2132 CE, Palaven,** **Hinalius Mountain Range**

"Attention!" it echoed through the hall as the Blackwatch trainees rose in their grey dress uniforms, a black shield with a golden Mexta sword freshly sawn on them, different commendations and medals visible on the chest of each recruit, Saren's Nova Cluster being among the highest of military honours within the room. The officer who had been in charge of their training class walked towards the small podium in front of them as the sixteen Blackwatch recruits stood as still as statues. This was the moment they had spent the better part of the last two years working towards.

Graduation.

Being introduced into the ranks of the Blackwatch was a grueling process. Live-fire combat exercises, physical training bordering torture, close quarter drills with real knifes, climbing mountains without the necessary gear and many other deadly activities now lay behind the sixteen soldiers standing in the room at this moment. It spoke for Blackwatch's selection process that none of them had perished along the way. Any other unit would have experienced at least some casualties in face of such odds, Blackwatch wasn't any other unit. There hadn't even been a single drop-out.

Saren had finally achieved the last step before applying as a Spectre and he couldn't deny the existence of a feeling that was telling him to stay with his Blackwatch class, the turians had grown on him, the shared struggle of the last two years acting as the bonding agent between them. Sadly his feelings had to give way to the next step of the plan, the very reason he had started this course in the first place, the knowledge that had carried him through every challenge put into his path. Haliat's face flashed before his eyes as he remembered the fact that something was still lurking in the dark, waiting for the galaxy to be vulnerable. What he wanted to do and what he needed to do where two very different things.

"At ease, be seated," Commander Xarus ordered and the soldiers complied. "First off, I'd like to extend my congratulations to all of you. Each and every member of this class has endured the harshest training the Hierarchy has to offer and gone from already extraordinarily capable to the pinnacle of soldiery. You've proven yourself time and again and I am proud of the progress every last one of you has shown. From now on you are full fledged members of the Blackwatch Legion but make no mistake, it will not get any easier from here on. Starting in a week you will receive your first assignments. I do not know where the future will lead this class but I know that each and every one of you will do Blackwatch proud."

The commander snapped to attention as the turian imperial anthem, a music piece predating the Hierarchy itself, began to play, causing the sixteen recruits do the same for its entire duration. Once the musical piece, rather fittingly named 'Die for the Cause', was finished, the commander remained in his current stance.

"Remember the words we live by," he roared through the room. "From the shadows we preserve the light."

"From the shadows we preserve the light," the class echoed.

"For the Hierarchy," he finished in traditional turian fashion.

"For the Hierarchy!" Saren and his fellow Blackwatch operatives called back.

"Now enjoy your downtime. Spirits know you've earned it."

As the recruits moved out of the room and into the corridors of unit's training camp, Saren found himself wandering away from the crowd and instead of meeting up with the rest of the freshly crowned Blackwatch operatives in the community room he was now standing outside of the camp, the chilly air of Palaven's mountain regions greeting him as he gazed upon the peaks of the area, most of which he had climbed at some point in the past. The rugged, grey stone of the mountains clashed with the clear, dark night sky of the turian home world. The lack of the light usually emitted by the skyscrapers of the turian fortress-like cities spread across the planet spoke for how distant to civilization this place truly was. It had its perks. As he exhaled, the warm air of his lungs clashed with the cold of the outside before slowly ascending upwards, soon only barely visible to his eyes before completely disappearing into the canopy of stars above him. If he hadn't just proven the opposite by inhaling again, he might have gone as far as saying that the beauty above him was breathtaking.

The next step of his brother's plan was to make him a Spectre, the elite of the Citadel Council, the most talented soldiers the galaxy had ever produced. Two years ago, before Bassilo's death, he never would've imagined to stand where he was right now. One mission combined with his curious nature had changed the entire course of his life and at times he wasn't quite sure if it had been for the better. He would've been satisfied with rising through the ranks as a cabal but that prospect had been torn from him with the revelation that he was required to do much more. The Saren who had planned to settle down after a lifetime of being a Kabalim had been very different from the person he was today. The young soldier hadn't known about the things he was truly capable of, he hadn't known that his brother was the 79th commander of the Hierarchy's most prestige legion, he hadn't escaped death's clutches and he hadn't known about the creature that lurked in the darkness, waiting for the moment it could strike.

Once he was induced into the ranks of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance unit of the Citadel Council, Saren was supposed to propose a human candidate, effectively pushing them even closer to the seat on the council they so desired. The three months since they had been granted a rather unique standing towards the Treaty of Farixen had made one thing evident, they were an ambitious people, already showing a degree of dissatisfaction with their status as an associate race, something he would have to take part in changing. As a member of the Council the race would be able to field more dreadnoughts, something that would be necessary in the fight his brother was taking subtle steps to prepare the galaxy for. While Saren would have to play the political game, his brother would stay true to Blackwatch's mantra, working in the dark to push the races together. He knew that Desolas had approached both the Primarchs and an old STG contact, the later of which was still an enigma to the young turian.

This was as far as they had planned. Right now they didn't know nearly enough about their foe to make more but the most basic plan. After completing it they'd have to improvise. Luckily both brothers were rather adapt at doing just that.

"Spirits it's freezing out here," he heard a familiar voice call behind him as a grey-plated turian appeared next to him.

"Darius," he said as he looked at the turian's blue facial marks.

"What are you doing out here, Saren?" his fellow biotic asked.

"Thinking," he answered before clarifying. "About the future."

"It is true then?"

"What is true?"

"I heard you were planning on becoming a Spectre, leave the Blackwatch to serve the Citadel Council," Darius explained. "Don't get me wrong, I admire it. The galaxy could use someone like you. These days the galaxy could use just about anyone willing to fight the good fight."

Saren remained silent, there wasn't much he could say as a reply.

"You'll have to get evaluated by another Spectre, won't you?" Darius asked, breaking the silence.

"First I have to apply and then they'll have to accept me as a candidate," the former cabal corrected.

"I've seen you fight, if they don't pick you, they are stupid," the other former cabal replied. "Why try out as a Spectre?"

"To become the soldier I need to be," Saren said, echoing the words he had already given the Blackwatch sergeant who had asked why he wanted to join their legion. "The soldier the galaxy needs me to be."

"The galaxy will be better off with someone like you to watching its back," the turian chuckled as he gazed at the mountains. "Nothing like home."

"Come to think of it, you never mentioned your home before. Where exactly are you from?" Saren asked as the realisation came to him. "Besides Palaven," he added, considering the blue facial marks.

"Cipritine. This beats that buzzing mega city any day," Darius answered as he nodded upwards before rubbing his hands together. "Although this place could do with a little more heat. What about you?"

"Elapri," Saren said. The region that was famous, or rather infamous, for having defied the Hierarchy's rule on Palaven the longest, the tradition of marking ones face never really catching on in the city located near Palaven's equator either. Some called it the birthplace of bare-faces, more radical groups such as Palavani Prima going as far as calling everyone born in Elapri a 'traitor by birth' due to the town rebelling against Palaven during the Unification Wars. Luckily these groups were ignored by the majority of reasonable turians but sadly the stigma against bare-faced turians still remained.

"I hear Elapri is beautiful this time of the year," Darius said as a sense of relieve washed over the former cabal. While Saren had never been ashamed of who he was, he would've hated for this to drive a wedge between him and his comrade. "Always wanted to go there, see the famous white cliffs."

"What did you tell them when you climbed up the mountain?" Saren asked, seemingly out of the blue. He felt like talking right now and this would be something both cabals would understand, it also beat talking about Elapri.

"I said that it's worth it," Darius recalled after a moment.

"What's worth it?" the words left Saren's mouth faster than he could register, his curiosity once more surfacing.

"All of this," Darius said as he looked up into the starry night, a sense of purpose in his voice. "Palaven, the Hierarchy, the Council. It's worth fighting for. I'd give everything I have to protect it, Saren."

"Sounds like you'd make a great Spectre yourself," the younger Arterius observed, "a better one than me, honestly."

"It's not my calling," Darius explained as he locked eyes with Saren, his icy blue eyes earnest. "I realised that I was born to walk this road," he said as he tapped the sigil on his chest.

"How can you be so certain of this?" Saren asked. While he knew he had to become a Spectre, he didn't know if it was truly his calling.

"My father once told me that a man will only realise where he belongs once he gets there. Deep inside, he will discover a sense of purpose unlike anything he's ever experienced. It'll start a fire in him nothing can extinguish, not the greatest challenge, not the worst tragedy, not even the spirits themselves. It'll burn until his dying day and nothing will uproot him from that place," Darius explained, "For all his faults, on this particular subject he was right."

"And your fire has started," Saren concluded as the turian next to him nodded before both of them turned their attention back to the stars above them. Darius's words echoed through his mind, answering the question whether the mission on Tunae-Prime had changed his life for the better or worse.

"Everyone is born for a reason, Saren," Darius broke the silence again, "and I've got a feeling that you'll find yours as a Spectre."

When he had walked outside of the base, he hadn't expected to have a deep conversation with one of the team leaders of his class but only now did he realise how much he had needed someone to say the things Darius had just said. There was no fire in him at the moment, only a sense of camaraderie. There hadn't been one in him when he was a cabal either, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to leave in the first place. He chose to trust the turian standing next to him as they looked at the sky above them, bearing no mind to the cold temperatures. By now they were used to blending these things out.

With his eyes he could make out Menae, the bigger of the two moons orbiting Palaven, and Nanus, its sister moon, creeping behind it in the distance. Beyond them countless stars dotted the night sky, the one standing out above all of them being Karia, the Watcher. Due to being aligned with Palaven's south pole Karia could reliably be used to navigate through the night if one lacked a positioning system or even something as basic as a compass. During training Saren had used it to find his way home more than just once.

The star itself was named after a famous yet mysterious figure of turian history. Ancient texts described Karia as a silent guardian who watched over the first larger group of turians that would go on to form the beginning stages of civilization on Palaven, acting as a guide, a warrior and a companion to the early leaders of the turian people. Some claim that she was a manifestation of the very spirit of the turian people, having done a great number of deeds before dying some eight thousand years ago, the place of her final resting place lost to time.

Saren himself wasn't sure if she actually had existed or if she simply represented an idea but as he looked at the star he felt something inside him change. Saren would do for the galaxy what the Watcher had done for him, light the way home in the darkest of time. Two years ago Desolas and himself had planned to shine a light on whatever it was that was lurking in the dark and expose it to the might of the galaxy but now he realised that his purpose didn't end there. Someone would have to lead the people of the galaxy back home, light their way in the most desperate of times.

"Thank you, Darius," he spoke as he drew his gaze from Karia. "I didn't know how much I needed that."

"Don't mention it," the turian replied.

"There's one more thing," Saren remembered. "How did you learn that I plan on becoming a Spectre?"

"Even Blackwatch operatives like a good rumor," Darius chuckled as another cloud of hot air rose upwards.

"Aditas?" Saren sighed as he recalled the rifleman bugging him on what he thought about the Spectres. He must have drawn the conclusion all by himself.

"Who but Aditas?" Darius smirked.

"While we are on the subject of rumors," Saren returned the smirk as he recalled another talk he had shared with the unit's biggest gossip. "I've heard a rather interesting one regarding the leader of team four."

"Zil?" his companion asked as he named the recon specialist that had led her team with great success, "what about her?"

"Credible sources may have told me that she developed something more than just a sense of camaraderie for a particular former cabal," Saren teased.

"Credible sources?" Darius chuckled, "Aditas?"

"Aditas," Saren confirmed.

"Well, go for it," the other cabal replied, oblivious to the fact that Saren wasn't talking about himself.

"Darius?" he chuckled.

"Yes?" the turian asked earnest.

"It's not me, it's you."

"Oh," the other turian realised as his mandibles twitched. "Well, we better get inside then, before I freeze of something I may get to use."

The two Blackwatch operatives shared a laugh before walking back into the training installation and making their way to the rest of their unit.

* * *

 _Codex: Turian History until the discovery of Mass Effect Technology (13,000 BCE to 794 BCE)_

 _Turian civilization first began to form in 13,000 BCE as several bands of turians, previously operating in pack-like groups, began to form tribes which soon turned into tightly knit communities rivaling with other, hostile groups, allowing an early warrior culture to form on Palaven as those who could field more fighting-fit individuals prevailed through the ages. Roughly 8000 years ago the first turian cities began to sprawl from the tribal society on the very continent Cipritine, the capital of the Turian Hierarchy and nowadays home to nearly fourty million turians, is located and the now more powerful cities soon continued to fight among each other as the same mindset that set of the Unification Wars in 551 BCE began to manifest itself in the turian people as they spread across Palaven. Some time during this period the historic figure Karia is believed to have lived._

 _The role of the military grew more important as the years passed and wars among most of the turian states caused technological progress until 1123 BCE when most of Palaven had been settled by rivaling nation states, several of whom had already established the civil service still maintained within the Hierarchy._

 _The centuries passed and after the industrialization on Palaven began in 1020 BCE several wars of expansion ravaged across Palaven's surface as the turian militarism gave rise to large armed forces seeking to expand their own states at the expense of others, the arms race, eventually resulting in a global conflict that saw the predecessor state, a militaristic meritocracy centered around Cipritine, of the Turian Hierarchy as the victor after deploying several nuclear weapons on their foes to keep them from rising as a threat ever again._

 _Soon a space race between the state and a coalition of nations rallying around Elapri, a costal culture militant even by turian standards which had refused to take a side in the conflict,began eventually allowing the Hierarchy's predecessor state to discover ruins of an ancient, alien civilization now identified as a Prothean research outpost on Palaven's second, smaller moon, Nanus in 814 BCE._

 _The mass effect technology was soon applied to every field of science and the government body calling itself the Turian Hierarchy was founded on the grounds that the needs of the turian people outweighed the needs of the turian nations and that the time for unification had arrived._

 _While most nations joined the technologically superior super nation, some refused to bow to what they presumed to be 'cultural suicide' and fought a grueling war against the Hierarchy known as the Strife of Palaven. The Strife ended in 794 BCE when Elapri capitulated after the first use of orbital bombardment in turian history._

* * *

 **A/N: So, chapter 23 ... delayed and shorter than the last one by almost 2000 words. But I knew this would happen.**

 **Last chapter basically marked the end of what I'd consider "Season 1" of Semper Vigilo, this being the first part of what didn't quite fit into the final of the "Season 1"-s last story arc, finally resolving the Treaty of Farixen, informing Noé of the findings up to now and giving more insight into Saren, who is really growing on me.**

 **I hope his scenes are as good as I try to make them, the guy is after all the closest thing Semper Vigilo has to a protagonist as of right now since Commander Shepard is still very young.**

 **For the records 170 reviews (nice work guys) 353 favorites and 440 follows. I'm glad to see you people started to pick up your review game, I really appreciate it.**

 **Now I pulled an half allnighter to finish this chapter so I hope I didn't overlook anything I wanted to mention in this A/N.**

 **As always, let me know what you think. You know, for the fix and all.**

 **See you around next time.**


	24. Comparing Notes

**Chapter 24.** **Comparing Notes**

* * *

 **Late 2132 CE, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

After being cleared to apply for Spectre Status and being granted indefinite leave from his duties until he was ready to return by the acting commander of the Blackwatch, his brother Desolas, Saren had been sent on several combat operations alongside an experienced agent of the Council, a salarian Spectre by the name of Solik Raeka, after his performance and personality had been evaluated. The missions had served as field training, something the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel Council was known to do since there was no formal training to become a Spectre. During the better part of the last four months Saren had traveled through parts of the Terminus he'd be glad to never see again and had realised just how different Spectres operated compared to regular military units.

They were the very definition of lone wolfs.

Previously Saren had worked as a part of a unit, a very effective part, but still a part. While he could most certainly hire mercenaries to back him up, a practice mostly asari Spectres embraced, it wouldn't be the same as working with the same group of people on every job and he'd never trust a hired gun to have his back like Aditas, Tacitus or Felios. They were his comrades, they would die for him at a moments notice, mercenaries were no comrades, they were employees, they were loyal to his money, not his person. So he'd have to adapt and learn to rely on no one but himself, something turian Spectres tended to have a rather hard time with. There was a reason why no turian had ever served as a member of the Spectres for more than fifteen years, their training, their culture and their very mindset made them used to working as part of a group. Turians, compared ot their fellow Council races, were not exactly known to be solo operators. Only a minority of the Spectres' ranks being filled by members of Saren's own species and there were reasons for that.

But even in face of the fact that most Spectres were either asari or salarian, the former's long lifespans, natural biotics and the time they could spend gathering experience and training compared to salarians or turians making them more than suitable candidates and the fact that the later usually trained with STG before applying for Spectre Status, the unit after Beelo Gurji who had been the first Spectre, had modeled the organisation, Saren had pulled through. He was now standing in front of his three future superiors, which was more than enough proof that Solik Raeka had seen him as a good fit for the organisation. The Spectre was nowhere to be see but Saren hadn't expected him to show up either way. From the time they had spent with each other the young turian had learned that the salarian despised being in the public, even if it came with the job. It was a trait common in salarian Spectres, their work with STG making them used to being anything but the center of attention.

After he had been cleared by Solik Raeka, he had been recalled to the Citadel and now, at the eve of 2133 CE with the new year being a mere two days away, Saren would receive something many admired, many feared, few worked towards and even fewer achieved.

Spectre status.

"Saren Arterius, step forward," the asari councilor, Benezia T'Soni, spoke as the turian complied and three councilors began to type on the terminals in front of them, starting the process.

"It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel," she began the rehearsed speech all Spectres were given upon their induction. He knew that it was a prepared speech because Raeka had talked about his own induction after a mission had seen them barely get away from a band of angry krogan. The danger had caused the salarian to get talkative.

Then, according to the pattern commonly found in speeches of the Council, Idril began to speak, a glint in his eyes catching Saren's curiosity. It almost appeared that the politician regarded him as someone of shared status, curious. "Spectres are not trained, but chosen," he reminded Saren. "Individuals forged in the fires of service and battle," something about his tone made the young turian believe that there was more to the hooded salarian currently talking to him than he'd like others to believe. In this very moment he sounded more like a superior addressing his unit than a politician addressing his future agent. There was a difference between political and militaristic charisma, the salarian councilor displayed the later. "Those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file," once more Saren picked up on an almost familiar undertone.

Seemingly breaking the rehearsed pattern, owned to the fact that this speech had been used in this very way even before the turians had earned their seat on the Council, Benezia began again. "Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination and self-reliance," the later being a rather obvious way to remind him that he'd have to pay for most of his expenses, the Hierarchy only providing him with his regular salary and hazard pay. Solik Raeka had already advised him to find additional means of financing his operations. A Spectre's pay by far not enough to cover the costs their job created. "They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will," he'd be more than that.

Now the councilor of his own race finally received a part in the induction speech, all be it the end. In the past this part had been spoken by the salarian councilor. "Spectres bare a great burden," he reminded Saren as the voice of a seasoned turian military official instinctively caused Saren to stand even straighter, "They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense," there was more truth to it in Saren's case than the people in front of him were aware. "The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold."

"You are now a Spectre of the Citadel Council, Saren Arterius," Benezia spoke. "This is both a great accomplishment and responsibility for you."

"We advise you to make the necessary preparations to become operational within the next few days. You are now cleared for access to the Citadel Archives, the Spectre Office and other restricted areas on the Citadel. We advise you to visit the information processing center as soon as possible," the salarian councilor added.

"You will be briefed on necessary details by an agent already waiting for you in the office," his fellow turian said. "You did the Hierarchy proud, Agent Arterius."

"This meeting of the Council is adjourned," Benezia finished, causing Saren to throw a quick salute into the direction of Councilor Ioventus, acknowledging his superior rank, before turning on his heel.

He walked out of the chamber and towards the Citadel Rapid Transit service, while noticing that the Citadel's Presidium was now harboring more humans than before after both corporations and private individuals had been cleared to move onto the station, their associate status allowing them to live on the station as permanent, free residents of the station, not the embassy. He got into the yellow vehicle and settled in as he selected his destination.

The skycar flew through the traffic and towards the embassy area, the location of the Spectre office. As the craft began to slow down, it descended and finally set down to wait on the designated landing spot, at least until another costumer would use it, Saren stepped outside as a beeping on his omni-tool drew his attention. A message on a high-priority turian military frequency. This should be important.

'Sent you a little care package,' he read the message of his brother. 'Had Raeka add a personal touch. Hope you like it.'

Shutting down his omni-tool, he walked up the steps and towards a dark-grey door, a red hologram marking it as locked right until small scanner beams connected with his omni-tool, its organe glow once mor coming to life without Saren commanding it to do so.

"Spectre status recognized, welcome Agent Arterius," the voice of a virtual intelligence spoke as the door opened to reveal a corridor with various terminals and screens lining its walls. He walked through it and soon stood in front of another, equally dark-grey door which opened once he was registered by its motion sensors.

The room that revealed itself to him, the information processing centers all Spectres used to coordinate and plan their operations, resembled a military command central. Screens were hung on the walls, displaying fleet movements, financial market information and a live feed on every councilor's office. Terminals were installed into the ground and to his left a large quantum entanglement communicator and a priority connection to the comm buoy network were attached to the various screens and terminals in front of it.

"Congratulations," a salarian voice spoke as Saren turned around and spotted the black-armored figure walking from a door labeled as 'shooting range'. The salarian's green skin was covered in more scars than Saren could count but his face was still dominated by a smile.

"Solik," Saren recognized the agent who had mentored him the last four months.

"Would've attended your ceremony," the salarian said, "if not for public attendance."

"I was informed that you have a 'care package' for me?" the turian asked, not hurt by the previous absence of the salarian. Being a former STG agent the salarian wasn't used to public apperances and recognition.

"Yes," the salarian said as he pointed at the black crate with white highlights sitting on a table on Saren's right, waving his omni-tool into the air to unlock it before its top piece slowly rose up to reveal the same type of armor worn by the Blackwatch, only one major difference visible at first glance. Instead of the usual black color someone had spray painted it with a new, white armor-paint.

"Your brother argued that black was reserved for the Blackwatch," the salarian chuckled as Saren lifted the familiar chest piece, noticing that a black variant of the sigil used by the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch had been painted on it. Six bars diving into a circle. He had seen this before. "Asked me to add a-"

"Personal touch," Saren interrupted him as his fingers ran over the smooth suit of armor. "I didn't take you for an artist, Solik."

"Every Spectre carries it somewhere on their armor," the salarian grinned as he displayed his silvery variation of the wing-like structure engraved on the right shoulder of his armor.

"These represent the arms of the Citadel," Solik explained as he pointed at the bars that made up the wing-like sigil.

"The Citadel only has five arms," Saren pointed out.

"Sixth arm represents ourselves, the Spectres," the salarian explained. "Like the other five arms which close around the station, we shield the Citadel from any danger."

"I see," Saren said as he put the chest piece back down.

"Circle represents both the Presidium ring and the unity of the galactic community," the salarian went on as he ran his finger along the silver depiction.

"What's with the opening?" Saren asked.

"No deeper meaning," Solik shrugged. "Flawed choice by the designer. Agent Gurji was a STG operative, not an artistic genius."

Saren let out a small laugh at that.

"Terminal over there can be used to monitor different financial sectors, including human stock market," the salarian said as Saren's omni-tool lit up once more, informing him that he was now one of the bigger shareholders of a human genetic corporation called 'Binary Helix'.

"Observed them, investment should pay off. See it as my gift for your successful induction."

"Thank you," Saren said, somewhat perplexed how the salarian had enough money to buy ten percent of such a fast growing company. He knew that the relationship of a mentor and his student was important in salarian culture but he didn't expect that his Spectre mentor would literally buy him one-tenth of a genetics company.

"Suggest you find personal volus financial advisor," Solik smirked, giving Saren his explanation as a new contact was sent to his omni-tool. "The fee they demand is worth their work. Consult me if you require any other assistance."

He'd make it a priority to visit said volus. The small, environmental suit wearing creatures were already running most of the financial business of the Hierarchy, they might as well run his own finances too. As evident they were doing a rather adequate job for Solik. If they were even just half as successful at helping Saren as they were at helping Solik, he wouldn't have to worry about financing himself in future.

"Any idea on when I'll get my first assignment?" Saren questioned as he looked at the other pieces of his armor, inspecting each of them with a keen eye.

"Received mine two days after induction, could get your's tomorrow, could get it in two weeks."

He'd have to get used to be on speed dial from now on. In Blackwatch you usually knew when an operation would come up, deployments and regular briefings keeping the legion's members informed on the situation of the galaxy around them. Spectres were expected to stay informed on their own and they were considered to be in a constant state of being deployed.

"Suggest you familiarize yourself with the office," the salarian added. "Will be in firing range should you have any questions."

Saren nodded at that, a gesture that translated through the species of the galaxy, and the salarian walked back to where he had originally appeared from, the muffled sound of gunfire soon making its way towards Saren as he looked at a screen displaying the latest news of the galaxy. He'd have enough time to try out the range later now he needed to catch up.

First he read about the new addition to the council's peacekeeping forces, human naval forces already being included into the patrol schedules, mostly guarding mass relays leading from the Attican Traverse to Council space while several of their dreadnoughts reinforced heavier patrols in the space frequented by slavers, increasing the rate during which the Council's colonies in the area were visited by armed fleets and decreasing the timeframe the slavers had to attack.

While he was on the subject on slavers, he took notice of a feed next to the one displaying the galactic news, STG intelligence reports.

Reading through the latest entry about a slaver camp being razed to the ground, Saren noticed that all but a handful of slavers had been executed, something only rival Terminus factions tended to do in order to send a message. While the brutality had matched the Hierarchy's standard doctrine in regards to slavers, no turian commander would've left survivors. Furthermore no turian forces could venture that deep into the Terminus without raising the attention of the entire galaxy and, as a glance to the other screen confirmed ,he media was blissfully unaware of this occurrence.

Apparently the group, members of a batarian slaver ring, had gathered to lauch a raid on an independent asari colony in the area, only to be be utterly decimated with military-grade ordnance, the author of the STG report voicing the possibility that members of the Final Wave mercenary group being hired to crush the attempt by colonial officials. However a notification attached to the report by a superior agent, besides warning the other salarian from speculating, pointed out evidence suggesting a blend of human and turian doctrine being used in an incredibly swift and precise assault on the camp. An experienced force had attacked the camp.

The few slavers that had survived the bullet storm of the engagement all agreed on several points regarding the events of that day. Their opponents had been turians and humans, their opponents had gone out of their way to avoid firing at the prison section of the camp where slaves could've been held, their opponents had killed those too injured to be of use to them and their opponents had taken their time to procure information about other bases of the slaver ring from the survivors through the use of surprisingly civilized interrogation techniques given their otherwise brutal behaviour.

Interesting.

Saren recalled a briefing talking about an organisation recruiting former military and law enforcement personal from the two species. It would definetly explain the mixed doctrine and precision behind their attack. He'd check up on this subject again later.

Moving away from the STG report, Saren shifted his attention to reports regarding the Citadel itself. If he'd be here for a few days, he should inform himself about the situation the station was in. He stepped towards the terminal and began to dive into C-SEC's security assessment.

The last few month had been quiet expect for the complaints and protests voiced by the Batarian Hegemony in regards to the Treaty of Farixen, humanity's exclusive standing to it and the humans moving onto the station themselves, arguing that batarian demands should be prioritized over human ones due to being a long standing, 'faithful' associate.

Saren would have been amused at their sense of humor if he wasn't certain that the Hegemony was serious about their version of history. He kept reading to figure out where this assessment was going.

With the end of the year closing in on the station, C-SEC officials feared that the annual celebrations may be overshadowed by violent crimes caused due to the tensions between some of the races living on the station. After all, the already present volatile mix of turians and batarians in close proximity was now being expanded by a human factor as well. Needlessly to say, C-SEC had already decided to increase the number of officers who would patrol the celebrations and considered to keep human and turian groups as far away from the batarians as possible, preventing events such as the organized batarian riots that had followed the skirmishes on Enael, by dividing the conflicting parties from each other prematurely.

In his personal opinion the best course of action would be to simply kick out the batarians living on the Citadel. They were individuals selected by the Hegemony to represent the batarian people and their interests to the rest of the galaxy, being picked for their loyalty to the Hegemony or rather their ability to ignore the independent, not batarian-controlled media outlets on the Citadel. Their places should be given to the few batarians able to flee from their own tyrannical government. They deserved to live on the Citadel and it would certainly solve the violent uprests caused by the Hegemony's 'model citizens'.

Reading on Saren's gaze was captivated by a seemingly unimportant report forwarded to the information processing center by a deep cover agent within the Shadow Broker's organisation. The document, it's timestamp suggesting it had been sent sometime in 2131 CE, was flagged for reevaluation by a Spectre operative working on tracking down the Shadow Broker and as far as Saren understood the agent that had requested this report for her ongoing operation had pointed out a change in the most basic of the Broker's speech pattern that had led her to believe that a change in leadership may have occurred during the 'system reset' the informant had reported almost two years ago.

The Shadow Broker was something of a wild card in the game the Spectres were playing. On the one hand, a rather large number of agents were preoccupied with counteracting him but on the other hand it was an open secret within the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch that some of their own made use of the enigmatic figure's information to help them with their missions, paying either in money or, as in Tela Vasir's case, in illegal assistance to get the Broker to help them. While frowned upon, as long as they delivered results, the Spectres were usually allowed a certain degree of interaction with a 'known enemy of the Citadel Council'. A rather questionable use of their status of being above the law that was usually tolerated, at least as long as it was in the interest of the Council.

Saren himself would stay as far away from the Shadow Broker as he possibly could. While most Spectres avoided the information dealer for the risk he represented to them and to the Citadel Council, Saren himself despised him for the very idea he represented. The Shadow Broker was someone who exploited innocent people without concern for their safety to further his own goals, something any reasonable turian would see as going to far, even in terms of pragmatism.

The freshly appointed Spectre simply hoped that he'd never have to go against his own ideals and reach out to the Shadow Broker to fulfill his purpose but somehow he feared that every Spectre eventually got to a point where they had to throw their ideals out of the window for the greater good.

He just hoped it would be worth it.

The young turian continued to read through the different terminals and soon minutes turned into hours.

* * *

 **Some Time Later**

The claw closed around his throat as hateful, blue orbs stared through his black visor and straight into his soul. Desolas Arterius tried stabbing the curved Blackwatch knife into the flesh of his enemy to no avail, it's black blade shattering upon contact. In truest Blackwatch fashion, he refused to give in without a fight and started to beat onto the steel talon with his armored fists as he saw a black shadow creep into the edge of his vision.

How had they even gotten here, where had Desolas made an error so enormous that everything had began falling apart like the base around him?

What mistakes could've caused all of this?

What choices could've prevented all of this?

"You are blind, Desolas Arterius," a deep, voice accused as the plates on Haliat's face began to melt while the lava closed in around them, forming a circle of fire and death. The heat was unbearable, the screams of those around him were silent. Even the sound of the black glove hitting on the steel talon was mute.

"Don't you see how weak you are?" Haliat asked him as he released his grip a bit before smashing Desolas into the wall again, the taste of blood making itself known in his mouth before he spat it against the inside of his visor. That had been his windpipe but in spite of the pain Desolas picked up on something. Hidden behind the voice of the former Blackwatch captain there was another, deeper voice sounding more like a faint whisper than a threat.

The former captain, turned traitor, increased the pressure around the general's neck as Desolas stared at the remains of his honor guard, blue blood collecting around Lieutenant Callius corpse, a large gash running through her armor as a dying Galviat, parts of his legs already burning, reached out to her with the last strength in his body all the while Veltax was being beaten by a grotesque perversion of a krogan in the background, long since having stopped to fight back, brain matter leaking out of the back of his helmet while both the Blackwatch sergeant and the krogan were consumed by flames.

He'd be with them soon enough.

"Your actions here change nothing. Our path has been set for millennia, there is nothing we can do to fight it!" the voice declared as Desolas felt the lava burn through his skin, an angry snarl escaping his mouth in the process as he spent the last bit of air to spite his killer. "There's no future."

A steel talon came rushing for his face with killing intent.

 **Early 2133 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

Desolas shot up, his hands rising to shield his face on instinct.

His breath was ragged as the cold of his room touched his bare, distinctively not burned skin, the darkness around him and lack of blood in his mouth assuring him that it had just been a dream. He was still in the bedroom he had gone to sleep in, not in the inferno of Nonuel. He was still alive, not dying.

Another nightmare.

Turning towards the clock on his nightstand he realised that going back to sleep would not be worth the trouble, he'd have to get up in a few minutes anyway. At least this particular nightmare had the decency to allow him most of his sleep, a courtesy not all of them extended to the turian general. Desoals set up on his bed as his eyes adapted to the fainting darkness before he threw the blanket off his lower body, setting his feet on the equally cold floor of his quarters and marking the definite end of his sleep. Once he was on his feet, he was up.

Desolas took a short walk from his bed to the personal bathroom attached to his room, a small luxury only the highest of turian officers enjoyed. The room was already bright enough to see as the morning sun crawled through the blends, keeping him from turning on the light. Opening the faucet and letting water run into the sink until it was almost filled, the turian made a cup with his hand to gather some of the cold liquid, splashing it into his face, an integral part of his morning ritual. It washed away the last bits of sleep still present in the general's white-plated face and sent a refreshing feeling through his body.

He lingered for a moment before drying of the droplets of water running down his face with a towel before he leaned against the sink and stared at the water collected inside, his reflection looking back at him in the process.

"No point in wasting my time," he reminded himself as he began to drain the water from it. Desolas walked to his wardrobe, putting on the grey undersuit worn underneath one's armor, the later sitting in a footlocker in the corner of the closet. Another perk of being a general, he got to store his gear outside of the armory. Usually he should've put on the dress uniform but today would mostly be dominated by combat training, something every member of Blackwatch had to do several times a week, no matter their rank.

He began putting on his armor just as the sun of Aephus began to rise outside, the reinforced window of his room allowing him to overlook the large military installation currently housing him and most of Blackwatch. The sturdy sight of a turian base was coated in an orange light as dusk made itself known, shuttles already busy trafficing between the ground and the fleet currently lingering in Aehpus's shipyard. Looking to the obstacle course he could see a class of regulars in the final stages of a night-time exercise, crawling through the mud as instructors fired Phaestons loaded with stun roundsover their heads. It caused Desolas to recall his own bootcamp days, he had managed to keep his head down the entire time, keeping him from receiving the nasty sting one of the recruits just experienced, one of his comrades immediately grabbing onto him and pushing him ahead of himself, ensuring he wouldn't be left behind. People like him would come a long way in the future. When the grey fortifications of a city in the distance reflected the light of the sun back into Desolas's eyes as the star hit them at just the right angle, it caused him to return his attention to his gear, his omni-tool coming to life.

A knock on the door stopped him from running a final calibration scan. He placed the helmet he had been checking on his bed and let his visitor know that he could come in.

"It's open," he spoke before a hiss sounded through the room. There was only one kind of person that would come to him at this hour.

"Good morning, General Arterius," the non-commissioned officer who had received a beating at the hands of a krogan mere minutes before greeted him with a salute, confirming his suspicion.

"Sergeant Veltax," Desolas said, returning the salute of the grey-plated turian. "Come to fetch me already?"

"No, Sir," the sergeant replied, "I'm here to tell you that someone would like to speak with you."

"So have them come by later," the general offered. He didn't have visitors hours today and unless it was top-brass, he couldn't just throw his schedule down the drain.

"Sir, it's the human who fought alongside us on Nonuel."

"Come again?" Desolas doubled back. It wasn't common for him to be caught off guard. He had expected to be contacted sooner than later after Cozek had complied to his request. He hadn't expected this particular human to be the one doing the contacting.

"He contacted Aephus command a few minutes ago. I've got him on hold on the private line in your office, Sir."

"How do we know its him?" the general asked. It was a legitimate question. Someone else could've simply use him as a way to get to Desolas.

"He complimented me on my tackle against the krogan, said he was rather impressed until the thing threw me off."

Desolas didn't need any further notice. He grabbed his helmet and began the trip towards his office. Melion, his adjutant, shouldn't be in for another two hours, leading parts of Blackwatch through their physical training routine during the morning. He would be alone. As he walked through the base, most people only just waking up, he crossed paths with the rest of his honor guard, Lieutenant Callius and Sergeant Galviat standing in the corridor and surprisingly not arguing while waiting with their helmets in hand and armor already in place, apparently having a civilized conversation if the look on Galviat's face was anything to go by.

"Good morning, General," the lieutenant and the sergeant echoed as the former she turned around and away from her black-plated companion, her reddish-brown features marked with blue paint. "We got one of the firing ranges for the next three hours, ready when you are, Sir."

"Training will have to wait, Lieutenant. Something's come up. Wait here," Desolas said as he stepped past them and into his office, his terminal already informing him of an incoming call from an 'unknown contact'.

He pressed accept and a human face greeted him.

"General Arterius," the voice sounded somewhat familiar. A human with dark hair on his head looked at him with a rather serious expression. "It's been a long time."

"And you are?" Desolas asked. He recognized the voice, if one added a filter to it, it should almost be the one belonging to the human he had encountered on Nonuel but he had never learned the name of their ally nor seen him without his helmet.

"Tao Rei," the human offered. "Director of Section 13."

One of the names rang a bell but it wasn't the one of the human himself. As far as the general knew Section 13 was a unit of the human intelligence service conduction high-risk high-reward missions that mirrored the assignments Spectres, elite STG units or the TNI's own black-ops teams conducted, the last of which specialised in espionage more than anything. The human he had worked with had certainly contributed to the success of the operation and the fact that neither he himself nor his honor guard had died in the process.

"Director Rei," Desolas greeted. "I never thanked you for your assistance on Nonuel."

"Neither did I, General."

"That aside, I am certain you didn't go through the trouble of reaching out to me for a simple 'thank you'," Desolas argued. "Is this about Nonuel?"

"Quite right, General," Tao Rei replied. "Nonuel has something to do with the reason I've been looking for you. You're a hard man to track down."

"Comes with my rank," Desolas answered. "It's been over three years. What is it that you wish to discuss?" he faked. He knew exactly what the director wanted to discuss. The Leviathan of Dis shared remarkable similarity with the artifact and had raised a lot of questions in the ranks of TNI.

"My organisation has spent the better part of the time trying to piece together the events that occurred back then but before we talk about that I'll have to ask you a question you may not like to answer," Tao Rei replied, not really answering Desolas's own question.

"Only one way to find that out," Desolas replied. He already had a suspicion what the human would ask.

"I need to know how many people you've informed of the implications of the things Captain Haliat said."

Desolas hesitated, it was a calculated move. He wanted to see how much the man was willing to reveal, how serious he was about cooperating, something the human picked up on, choosing to lead by example.

"My entire organisation has been informed about it and I've taken the matter to our head of government. We both know that there's more to this. We both know that this is not something we can solve alone. I need to know who you talked to."

"I informed TNI, the Primarch of Palaven and talked to an old STG contact" Desolas offered before a slight smirk crossed his face. "The later being the one responsible for sending you the footage of the Leviathan of Dis."

"We've been trying to track the STG source down as well, to no avail," the human replied.

"Don't even bother," Desolas said. "Unless he wants to be tracked down, you won't find him," the general chuckled. "I believe that you've come to a similar conclusion in regards to the relation between the artifact and the Leviathan of Dis?"

"A worrying one," Director Rei replied. "We've encountered two 'artifacts', as you call them and the one we managed to analyse over ten years ago wasn't even nearly as old as that spaceship."

"When did you encounter one of them?" Desolas asked. He had always questioned how the human had known what the artifact was, always suspecting that he may have tracked the same pirate group for another reason and seeing it in action some time before. The fact that they had found one ten years ago would be another plausible explanation.

"During the Fringe Wars," the human offered. "It had a similar effect as the one on Nonuel until we put a stop to it."

"You destroyed it?" the turian asked.

"Yes, blew it to kingdom come," the director clarified, using one of their odd sayings.

"How old was it?"

"Only 100.000 years."

"Not even close to the Leviathan of Dis," Desolas spoke. "Anything else I should know?"

"You'll have all the time in the world to read up on it depending on your answer to my proposal."

"Well then," Desolas challenged the human to begin. "I'm listening."

"Our findings, just like yours I suspect, indicate that the artifacts are merely part of something far bigger and far more dangerous than themselves. Something that's not just a threat to the Hierarchy, the Salarian Union or the Human Systems Alliance. Something that's a threat to everyone in the galaxy. My proposal is that we join forces in our attempt to figure out just what the hell that something is because frankly, right about now, we don't have much. We barely have anything. That has to change, General."

This had been the very reason he had asked Cozek to share the footage with them. He had counted on this to happen.

"Haliat spoke of a Harbinger," Desolas remembered the last moments of the Blackwatch captain, "and I believe that this Harbinger is in the final stages of a plan we don't fully grasp yet."

Desolas paused for a moment.

"To vanquish a foe requires more than just brute force, to vanquish a foe requires understanding, planning and cunning," he recalled a quote from one of the oldest turian texts of war. The concept that knowledge won battles was an universal one, the nodding of the human confirming that he was familiar with it as well. "Your proposal might be the only way for us to fully understand what this Harbinger is, I'd be a fool not to accept it."

"I am relieved that we share the same opinion on this subject. I knew you were the right person to reach out to." Tao Rei admitted. "Can we count on the salarians? You did mention an old STG contact, didn't you?"

"My contact hasn't informed the Salarian Union or the dalatrasses," Desolas sighed. "The later has never fully trusted STG and the former is bound to their decisions. When push comes to shove, STG will follow us but for now only a selected few operatives are aware of the situation."

"So only turian and human government officials know about it," the director concluded, technically being wrong since Cozek was both an STG agent and a government official. "We need to meet in person. Can you make the necessary preparations on your end?"

"I can set things in motion," Desolas replied. "Officialy naval intelligence is heading the investigation but I know the man in charge of TNI, he listened to me before, he'll listen again."

"Good," the human spoke. "I'll send you a series of codes to use when you're ready to meet."

"There is one more thing," Desolas said. Curiosity was not just something Saren was prone to. It ran in the Arterius family. "How exactly did you know where to find me?"

"Finding people is part of my job, General Arterius," the human answered cryptically. Desolas chuckled at that. It was almost like talking to Cozek, a slower talking, distinctively non-salarian Cozek. Spies were the same in every species.

"Rest assured, it wasn't a lack in security that allowed me to figure out how to contact you. As I've said, you are a hard man to track down and it did take me a couple of months to find you."

"I'll let you have your secrets, Director Rei," Desolas said. He assumed that Section 13 operated on a similar level as STG. He didn't doubt that the salarian group could track him down if they really wanted to and right about now he didn't want to antagonize Director Rei through being pushy.

"I appreciate it. Explaining it would be a rather long process and I'd hate to keep you occupied longer than I already have," the human joked before turning more serious again. "Contact me when you've made the necessary preparations. I'll start working on setting up a meeting once this call is over."

"One day our people will look back on this moment and thank us for making this decision," the turian general said as Tao Rei nodded.

"Let's make sure that we'll be around to hear their thanks," the director finished before closing the line.

Desolas Arterius shut the terminal off and walked out of the door, the three members of his honor guard already expecting him.

"Sir?" Veltax was the first to speak up, having been the sole member of his team to know the reason why they hadn't gone to the firing range and who exactly Desolas had talked to.

"Lieutenant Callius, tell the firing range that they can clear our slot. I've got to talk to Admiral Fedorian," he would be damned if he wouldn't be able to convince Galus Fedorian to send him to this meeting.

"Yes, Sir," the female turian said as she brought up her omni-tool.

"When you're done, find something to keep yourself and the Seargents Galivat and Veltax busy. We may be on the move soon enough."

"Combat deployment?" Galviat muttered.

"No, Sergeant. Call it an exchange of information."

* * *

 **22\. January 2391 AD, Eden Prime, HSA Urban Warfare Training Center**

The reasoning behind meeting on the world was a rather solid one in Tao Rei's opinion. Due to the now rather frequent joint-maneuvers between the Hierarchy and the HSA, a turian general on Eden Prime wasn't something that would raise hell throughout the media should anyone catch wind of the meeting. The location would do well to disguise just what they would talk about.

The UWTC didn't just span an entire city, it also held a rather large command center. A command center the director was currently waiting in. Jack Harper, the director of Cerberus and de-facto head of the investigation into the matter they'd discuss today, had already arrived and General Desolas Arterius should arrive any moment now. A knock on the door followed by a guard leading in a tall, white-plated turian general was right on time. Turians really were ridiculously punctual, a side effect of their culture.

The general's dress uniform must've held more decorations than Rei had ever seen and the scars and burns on his face and neck reinforcing the point that they were most likely combat commendations. The fact that one of the turian's fringes was noticeably shorter than the others and that his left mandible looked somewhat damaged hinting at a history of dodging death. In his left hand the general was carrying a rather fancy looking bag, fine silver lines running down its blue cloth, a bulge in its fabric betraying that something was being carried in it.

All in all the turian made for a rather impressive sight and certainly reinforced the point that turian generals were anything but armchair commanders, leading their man by being next ot them on the frontline.

"General Arterius," he greeted as he got up from the table and went to shake the turian's hand before introducing his companion. "This is Director Harper, the head of Cerberus, the organisation working on this whole Harbinger mess."

"A pleasure to meet you, Director. I wish it would've been under more fortunate circumstances" the turian said as he and Harper shook hands as well. "I take it you're no stranger to the artifact's touch?" the general replied as he stared at the artificial, blue eyes that gave Harper a rather distincitve look.

"Sadly no," Jack Harper spoke. "You don't have to worry about my integrity," the director assured their turian guest. "It happened twelve years ago and I have never displayed any signs of being affected in any other way since that mission."

"Our first encounter with another 'artifact," Tao explained.

"I'll take your word for it, Director," General Arterius nodded.

"Please, sit," he gestured for a chair and soon the turian sat down, retrieving a small terminal from the bag he had been carrying.

"This organisation of yours," Desolas began to speak. "I haven't heard of it."

"Officially, we don't exist," Harper explained. It had taken some convincing to get him to even talk about Cerberus. "Cerberus was founded shortly after First Contact. We're dedicated to keeping humanity safe, something we've been doing ever since."

"They were the one's who tracked down Jona Sederis," Tao added, "and we'd appreciate if Cerberus remained nonexistent."

"Not existing is a rather useful asset," Harper spoke.

"Indeed it is," Desolas said. "Your existence is save with me. A nonexistent black-ops division could go a long way to help us with this," he said as the terminal powered up. "Shall we start?"

"To business then," Tao Rei began as he powered up his own tablet. "Let's just begin with what we know," he nodded towards Harper.

"The Object Omnicrons, or as you call them 'artifacts', are capable of manipulating people through as of yet unknown means. They enhance people with cybernetic implants that probably play a role in controlling them and make them more durable but somewhat less intelligent. Field observations lead us to believe that those affected by the devices begin to view them in an almost religious light, something we see as a side-effect instead of a way of control. The degree of control is most likely linked to time of exposure, short-time exposure being rather harmless, and the degree of cybernetic enhancements already inside the organic being. We know that the Object Omnicrons seem to be capable of learning and limited planning and we know that the Leviathan of Dis predates the devices by a magnitude of years, suggesting that the Objects are merely disposable weapons," Jack Harper summarized.

Desolas nodded and simply began to replay recordings made by Elanos Haliat, the turian he had fought on Nonuel.

When they were finished, Tao Rei sighed. The recordings were rather disturbing, seeing a normal turian drift into insanity at the hands of the Object Omnicron wasn't pleasant, especially due to the small phases during which the captain managed to fight against the device's control. "Anything else?" he asked, shoving the video into the back of his mind for now.

"The batarians must've dug up a lot of artifacts. During a mission on Jartar, the same world the Leviathan of Dis was found on, my unit stumbled upon a research facility housing several artifacts. The facility had been abandoned and they didn't even consider several of them important enough to bring along," Desolas added. "Other than that, our findings mirror each other."

"Sadly we have no access to Jartar, it seems to be the hot spot," Harper figured. "Other regions of the galaxy are devoid of any evidence. Even a planet wide scan of Shanxi and search of the area the first Object Omnicron was found in turned up nothing."

"TNI has been digging through prothean ruins for the last few years. We found nothing that could be connected to the artifacts in anyway either. Only the STG team that managed to sneak onto Jartar turned up something akin to solid evidence."

"We've faced a similar situation," Tao Rei said. "Besides Jartar and Shanxi, nothing. It's almost as if the events were either contained to these planets or-"

"Or someone cleaned up after themselves, leaving behind only the things they wanted to be found" Harper interrupted Tao as the other two people in the room turned to look at him. "Come on, you must have considered it at some."

"We've already theorized that the artifacts maybe part of the Harbinger's larger plan," Desolas spoke. "Maybe the Leviathan is yet another piece?"

"It's certainly possible," Tao Rei voiced his own opinion in regards to Harper's suggestion. "I think it goes beyond saying that reaching out to the Hegemony and showing them this in hopes of gaining access to the Leviathan would have no effect?"

"An arrogant insult maybe. Any source that doesn't carry the seal of approval of the Hegemony's chairman is 'Council Propaganda'," the turian air-quoted with mockery in his voice. "They hate my people with a burning passion and view humanity as just another 'lesser race' to be subjugated. The batarian government wouldn't listen to anything either of us said, even if the truth was screaming in their face."

Harper nodded in agreement.

"When should we bring STG into the fold?" Tao asked into the room, turning to Desolas. " I assume you'll brief your contact onto anything we discussed?"

"Yes I will. STG's entirety should only be brought into the fold once my contact or his associates can assure me that the dalatrasses won't crack down on them."

"For now we should definitely focus on diving the workload between us," Harper argued. "I am willing to give you a galaxy map Cerberus created for this occasion," the director said as a small disk appeared seemingly out of his sleves, a blue representation of the Milky Way illuminating the room once he pressed a button on it. Several locations were marked in different colours, causing them to stand out. "Red marks encounters with the Object Omnicrons or the Leviathan, white are locations we already searched. Yellow markings are operations in progress," three yellow circles in the Attican Traverse were the first thing Tao noticed, "and black are planets or systems we plan to search in the future. I'd propose that TNI could take over some of these worlds, save us time, give us a different perspective."

"I can request a similar map to be made for worlds we already checked," Desolas said. "Get in touch with my STG contact, include his data and send it your way."

"We'd appreciate it," Harper said as he shut the projection of and handed it to Desolas. "Everything we have on this Harbinger and his operation is on this," he grabbed the tablet Tao had brought.

"Thank you for sharing this," the turian general began to dig through his bag, "I brought all data STG and TNI managed to gather ," Desolas said as he retrieved a small, silver data drive and slid it across the table, Harper catching it with his own hands once it got close enough. "I'd suggest you go over everything you found again, maybe it'll reveal something both of us previously overlooked due to missing parts of the picture. We'll do the same thing."

"I have one more question," Tao spoke up.

"Yes?"

"You've known about this for almost three years. What kind of preparations have you made up to now?"

"No major ones. We were afraid any major military build-up could cause a reaction of this Harbinger."

"Surely you've put some plans into place."

There was a pause as the turian's eyes met Tao's. There was something General Desolas Arterius was not yet ready to share, he could tell.

"You have your secrets, Director Rei, I have mine," Tao recalled the conversation that had led to this meeting. "Rest assured, I'll inform you of any plans that were put into place once the time comes."

"I'll let you have your secrets," he echoed the turian's own words as a respectful nod was sent his way.

"I propose we keep exchanging information regarding our search on secured channels," Desolas Arterius said as he got up from his chair.

"I was about to suggest the same thing," Tao said."Should Cerberus make something akin to a breakthrough, I'll contact you again. We owe you that much for sending us the Leviathan of Dis."

"It's our shared interest to inform each other of big developments. Should anything come up on my end, I'll inform you as soon as I hear about it," Desolas explained as he stored the terminal in his bag. "Director Rei, Director Harper, I sincerely thank you for this meeting."

"We thank you for agreeing that our people should work side by side on this one."

"Your people have been nothing but an ally to mine, Directors," the general said. "This," he said as he stored the disk-shaped projector holding Harper's map inside his blue bag, "is yet another piece of evidence for the fact that the Turian Hierarchy and the Human Systems Alliance will go a long way when we work together, when we fight alongside each other," the turian paused to consider his next words. "Director Rei, we fought the artifact's thralls on Nonuel and prevailed. I know that if our people fight the Harbinger's thralls together we will prevail once more."

In this moment the reasons why the turian was a general became very evident. The white-plated officer radiated an unmatched charisma and more than enough confidence throughout his speech. They were facing a completely unknown foe, yet the turian was completely certain that they'd come out on top. Most may have sounded crazy when saying these things, given the circumstances, but Desolas Arterius managed to project his certainty on others, stopping him from sounding delusional. The ability to do such a thing was a rare mix of talent and skill forged by years of experience and it was certainly one they could use.

God knew they may need leaders like him in the future.

* * *

 _Codex: Salarian Special Tasks Group_

 _Forming the elite of the salarian military, STG is much more than just an intelligence service. The Special Tasks Group conducts sabotage, espionage,infiltration, assassination, reconnaissance and counterterrorism and operate in mostly independent cells._

 _Recruited from the best and brightest the Salarian Union has to offer, STG has a long standing history of nothing. The missions of the unit are sealed in their archives and the names of agents that gave everything and more for the Salarian Union are unknown, only codenames remaining in the records. Their operatives don't talk about their missions and the Salarian Union has no interest in revealing everything STG has done throughout the years, the declassification of the League of One, which resulted in the entire Inner Cabinet dying, being a reminder that some secrets are kept for a reason._

 _STG operatives are known as some of the most pragmatic agents in the galaxy, stopping at nothing to achieve their objective and being granted immunity by the Salarian Union in the process. They were the unit upon which the Council's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch (see Entry 'Spectres') was modeled, still holding a great amount of influence within the ranks of the Spectres as most of its agents are believed to hail from the salarian organisation, the many similarities between the two units giving them an edge over other candidates._

 _However their status of being above the law has caused tension between the dalatrasses, the traditional rulers of the salarian people and STG itself, rumors suggesting that only STG's devotion to the Salarian Union and its Inner Cabinet has kept the Special Tasks Group from dispatching some of the more troubling dalatrasses._

* * *

 **A/N: Chapter 24, what I consider to be the first Episode of Season 2, is here. I hope you like it and as promised, it's mostly from a turian point of view with the endign being the only human part in this chapter.**

 **So here's a lot head canon on my part, for example the stuff about Spectres' sigl, the council rehearsing their speeches and the reasons for the divide seen between military and politicans in the salarians in ME3. I hope you like it.**

 **I don't think I've got more to say right now tbh. As always, review. Let me know what you think about the chapter.**

 **For the record we're at 183 reviews (going strong guys) 364 favs and 452 follows.**

 **See you around next time.**


	25. Plausible Deniability

**Chapter** **25\. Plausible Deniability**

* * *

 **Late 2135 CE, Attican Traverse**

"We'll get a fortune for these so no one is going to touch them, am I clear?" the krogan said as he pointed at their most recent conquest, a group of independent colonists captured in the Attican Traverse, the true frontier of the Citadel Council's colonialisations effort. One of the batarians backed away from the cage after the krogan threw a stare at him. He wouldn't lose a single credit because his underlings couldn't control themselves. If they wanted to toy with them, they had to buy them.

The group consisted mostly of salarians and asari but there were a few turians, several humans, an elcor merchant and a lone quarian on his pilgrimage. While the later wasn't worth much and would most certainly meet a quick demise after being sold because of his weakened immune system, the asari would earn him a lot of credits on the Hegemony's slave markets. Batarian nobility, like most of the galaxy, had a hard time resisting the allure of the all-female race. They alone should ensure that the raid would pay off. Adding to the most common usage for asari slaves, their longevity and biotic powers meant that they could be sold for a higher price due to being passed down through generations of batarians. The salarians, while short-lived, made for excellent factory workers. They required less sleep than any other race and could be sold as a package deal with the elcor, his strength making him a valuable working asset. He'd do the heavy lifting, which would drain the salarians, and the amphibians, who had placed the genophage on his people, would be condemned to work hour after hour in the smog of a batarian factory until their bodies gave in on them. A fitting demise for those who had brought about the end of krogan civilization by butchering their young before they could even break the shell of their egg.

But not all of the group would be sold as easily as the asari, elcor or salarians.

The krogan's biggest concern were the humans and turians of the group. One were part of a society that drilled all of its able-bodied citizens, only able-bodied specimens making it to the slave markets in the first place, in the matters of war. Turians slaves had a long standing history of not only being dangerous to capture, regular asymmetrical warfare classes seen as a typical family past time and a small arsenal considered to be as essential as furniture by just about all of them making them a very hard target, but had a reputation for causing trouble for whoever bought them, using their training and the social values drilled into them to their advantage.

They were the only race of which all slaves were required to be issued explosive collars upon being bought, a custom usually seen as unfavorable compared to regular shock collars. Slaves who had their will broken were more useful than slaves who had their head blown clean of their shoulders. Killing a slave was seen as a waste of money if you could simply electrocute them into submission. However the stories of batarian masters and their families being found dead in their homes, throats slashed by turian claws or organized rebellions of slaves having enjoyed more military training than the Internal Forces supposed to keep them in check slaughtering whole towns, had caused the Hegemony to issue the directive on anyone who wished to posses a turian slave. Explosive collars were more expensive than shock collars and did not have the effect on turians as they had on other troublesome slaves. Their will wasn't broken through the threat of death, on the contrary their desire to kill the batarians was fueled by them. In most cases the hate for their masters was much bigger than their fear of the collar's explosion.

That's what the four-eyed freaks got for letting people that spent fifteen years of their life being drilled for a war against them into their homes. Even ancient krogan knew that letting an enemy sleep in your home was the fastest way to never wake up again. Normally he would laugh at their stupidity but since he made his living like this, he had to worry about the worth of the slaves. He had to convince someone to buy them in spite of the risk they posed.

Which brought him back to the other troublesome race. Humans tended to be bought for a rather cheap price due to having the tendency of requiring a lot of 'encouragement' before seemingly bowing to the will of their future masters, acting out for far longer than asari or salarians and only putting up a defeated facade while planning their escape. Something about the upstarts, he wasn't exactly sure what if he was honest with himself, caused them to have a hard time accepting their fate. Whether their history and society made them despise slavers or if their most basic instincts made them strive for freedom, the fact remained that humans, whose naturally high endurance made them ideal workers in most conditions, lost value due to being almost as troublesome as turians. A few more rebellions and they'd receive the same treatment, insane softskins.

"The buyer will be here in a few more minutes," his batarian liaison officer and contact to the Hegemony's slaver guilds spoke as he walked into the prefab, coming from the communications array at the other side of the camp which they had established on a remote moon in the Attican Traverse. The world's hostile wildlife and generally somewhat unpleasant temperatures meant that, while habitable, it was low on the Council's colonialisation charts, making them unlikely to be found. The fact that their target had been an independent colony, meaning that they had no allegiance to the Citadel Council whatsoever, made it even more unlikely. In their pursuit of independence, the colonists had lost their freedom and their freedom would earn him credits. He didn't know who exactly the buyer was but he knew that his contact had described him as one of the wealthiest people outside of the ruler caste.

"Heh," the irony made the krogan smirk. "Then it's time to rally these up," he said as another batarian guard went to the cage. "Anyone tries something," he said as he raised his Claymore, "you all get it."

The threat had earned him well in the past. Even the rowdiest slave wouldn't endanger everyone around him. Their compassion was their weakness. The slaves were pulled out of the cages, marched outside and forced to stand in line, allowing any potential buyer to better inspect them. The air around them was silent until three batarian shuttles slowly hovered down to the surface. They would soon be able to land in the camp and soon the credits would flood his accounts once more.

Or they would've.

As the brownish crafts crossed the outer perimeter of the camp, several smoke trails shot from the canopy of trees as a series of homing missiles smashed into their rear ends, causing one of the shuttles, and possibly the rich buyers inside, to plummet to the surface before hitting the ground in a fiery explosion, taking the barracks it had just crashed on with it in the process. A burning slaver stumbled out of the building, his vorcha biology trying and failing to keep him alive as his skin began to melt at the hands of the burning fuel sticking to it, savage screams coming from him as he dropped to the ground while rolling in an attempt to suffocate the flames. Another of the three shuttles crashed clean through one of the camps provisional guard towers, killing the snipers inside as they tried to jump to safety and cleaving straight through the fence in the process, breaching the camps perimeter in the process. The third craft, the one that had flown in the center of the formation, simply fell out of the sky as a homing missile gutted its engine, blue eezo dust tainting the sky before it hit the center of the camp, injured batarians stumbling out of it for a few moments

Then the shooting began.

Suddenly members of his raiding party and the injured batarians were dropping dead around him, blue figures appearing from the jungle and picking them off one by one. His legs began to carry him back to the prefab he had come from, dashing past the slaves running away, or in the turians' cases running for cover in the process. In retrospective grabbing one of them as a shield would've been the smart move but it was too late to turn around now, the sound of his barriers shattering just as he threw himself into the prefab reinforcing that he had barely escaped death.

The gunfire raged on outside as he peaked around the corner, aligning his shotgun with one of the blue armored figures, a human, and squeezing the trigger. The human flew backwards as blood exploded from his chest, collapsing on the ground as red began to appear around him while the krogan's shotgun began to vent its heat sink. He cursed the fact that he could only fire once as a turian rushed out of his cover, beginning to drag the injured human away from his line of fire while he was forced back into cover when a round drilled itself into his arm, effective fire now coming down on the doorway he used to shield himself, small holes being punched through the metal as armor piercing rounds tore through them, the friction of their impacts causing sparks to fly into his diretion.

This cover wouldn't last much longer and by the sound of another missile detonating in the prefab next to him, neither would he if he stayed here. As his Claymore cooled off, he took a deep breath to summon every ounce of courage left in his old bones and jump outside. If he could escape from the camp, he could use the jungle to his advantage. Survive until they left. He wouldn't die on this rock. There was still money he had to spent.

He charged outside, firing the shotgun at the closest standing turian he could see. His shells punched through kinetic barriers before the already blue armor turned darker as the turian's blue blood stained it. He smashed the stunned and injured foe away and continued his run for a few seconds before his legs failed him, the feeling of his knee caps being shot through preceding the feeling of hitting the ground face first.

Right about now he wasn't sure why he thought that charging outside had been a good idea. He should've stayed with Clan Weyrloc.

Any other krogan might have forced himself back up out of pride but he wasn't any other krogan. Unlike most of his race Weyrloc Reav favoured survival over pride. What good would a moment of pride be if he didn't get to experience it for the rest of his life.

"I surrender," he said as he tossed the shotgun away, turning on his back as four blue-armored figures leveled their guns at him. "Name your prize, I can pay."

The figures shared a look before one began to speak.

"Sir, this one wants to bribe us," a turian said as he lowered his rifle and looked towards the slaves. "He can't walk," the gunman added for one reason or another.

"Does he now?" a ragged voice asked as a human walked over to him, balancing a knife in his hand. The man had seen a lot of fighting already, the krogan could see it in his eyes. "We'll let's hear it then," he chuckled.

Good, it was working. This was probably just another mercenary band looking to make a profit, he could work with that.

"You're their leader?" the slaver asked. "What's your name?"

"Zaeed Massani, I'd lie if I'd say that this was a pleasure," the human said as he kneeled down next to the krogan, pinning one of his arms to the ground with the weight of his body. Shortly after another armored boot stepped on his remaining free arm.

"Name your prize," the Weyrloc krogan spoke.

"You can't afford it," the human replied as the grey blade began to hover closer to his face. This was just intimidation. He most certainly could afford it, over a century of selling slaves had made him a very rich krogan.

"Three million credits," Weyrloc Reav began.

"Not good enough," the human countered as the knife scratched along the krogan's headplate.

"Five million credits and you can have those slaves over there."

The knife that was now dragging along his face, drawing a bit of orange blood and a grunt of pain, was the human's response to the offer.

"Nine million credits and I'll hand over my private collection," the slaver suggested as the human stopped.

"Personal collection?" he asked as a gunshot in the distance silenced the screams of an injured batarian.

"When I see something I like," the krogan said as he threw a gaze at the slaves, "I keep them around."

The face of Zaeed Massani experienced a shift. He was bad at reading human facial expressions but he assumed that the narrowed eyes and tensed jaw displayed interest. Everyone had a price.

"I keep them around in my home on Omega. I've got asari, if that's what you're into," the krogan added. "Humans too, if you're more traditional. I even have a quarian girl, bit young for my taste bu-"

He stopped talking for a moment as a knife punched through his plates, a surprised scream and painful grunt following his interrupted offer as the human began to pry pieces of his headplate off with the combat knife.

"Not good enough," the blue-armored figure repeated as the krogan noticed the small, white sun on his shoulder just as a fragment of his headplate went flying through the air.

"I'll make you a rich man," the krogan began again, speaking through grunts of pain. "I can give you anything you want. Anyone you want."

"There's nothing you can offer me that could buy your life. All the suffering you've caused, all the people you killed, all the people you sold to a fate worse than death," the human said as he pried of a bigger piece of the krogan's headplate, causing the Weyrloc to make a painful hiss. "It ends now."

The knife cut through the exposed soft skin in an instant, destroying the krogan's brain before he could let out another scream.

* * *

 **12\. November 2393 AD, Uncharted Planet in the Attican Traverse**

"Get those folks out of here, the batarians will come looking for their shuttle eventually," Zaeed ordered as he rose from the krogan's corpse, giving it a slight kick to make sure the slaver was actually dead. With krogan and vorcha, you never could be too sure.

"Good riddance," one of his soldiers, Jack Narom, commented.

"They all are," the black-haired commander replied as he turned away, juggling the knife between his hands, orange blood dripping on the ground in the process.

Zaeed walked through the camp, Blue Suns moving the victims of the slavers into the direction of the exfiltration point and away from the camp. They would drop them off on the next civilized world after they were done here. He came to a halt in front of one of his non-commissioned officers, a turian military veteran.

"How many?" he asked the taller, brown-plated turian.

"We captured fo-"

"I meant how many of our own died," Zaeed interrupted the turian sergeant as his face grew a bit more somber. Typical turian mindset. Always placing the mission first, casualties second.

"Five. Tallin, Krian, Smith, Drakov, Reid."

"Shit," they had been good people. All of them were.

"I'll get to informing the relatives once we're back in space," the turian offered as his brown face changed into the turian equivalent of a frown. "Let them know that their loved ones died for a bigger cause, so that others could live in freedom."

"No, I'll do it," Zaeed replied. "Have one of the tech guys look through the krogan's omni-tool for bank data," he added. Usually stealing from the dead was seen as wrong but if the dead they were stealing from had been truly terrible people and the stealing itself was with good intention, his karma should be fine. "The guy was loaded. Make sure some of that money reaches their families and put the rest to good use. Donate it to someone helping former slaves rehabilitate or something like that," the Blue Suns commander suggested before patting the turian sergeant on the shoulder, earning himself a nod. The money wouldn't bring either of the five back from the dead but it would be better than mere condolences. Other groups may have kept the money for themselves but the Blue Suns were different. They received steady funding through a reliable source. The perks of being a black-ops organisation.

"Tell the demolition crew to rig this entire place," Zaeed added, "have them link the detonator to batarian military IFFs and activate them once we're in the clear. When they come looking, I want them to burn with this place."

"Yes, Sir."

The Blue Suns commander continued his stroll through the camp, inspecting the carnage his men had delivered on the slavers and observing them in the process of taking care of the surviving slavers. They'd take those who could still walk with them, question them and leave them for Council authorities to deal with. Those who were too injured to make the trip, well the Blue Suns had adopted the turian code of law for these instances, a series of gunshots echoing through the camp confirming that a particular law was currently being enforced by some of his unit. In the beginning he, like most of his comrades, had felt somewhat uneasy about the prospect of shooting injured foes but after a few operations and more importantly after seeing the extend of the brutality slavers were capable of inflicting, the unease had all but disappeared. After over two years of operating against them, a sense of justice had filled its place. As one of his operatives had previously said, each dead slaver was a good riddance in Zaeed's eyes.

A service to the galaxy.

"Well, I'll be damned," Zaeed muttered as he walked towards one of the crashed shuttles, batarian corpses and blue dust surrounding the still burning wreckage. He noticed the black color of the armor the corpses were wearing, hardly slaver gear. They didn't look like regular buyers and once he noticed the burned writing his translator identified as 'Had'dah Enterprises', a batarian corporation operating off the world of Camala. Strange. His eyes wandered to confirm his suspicion. Could it be?

Yes it could.

Finally the top half of a batarian corpse being inspected by another member of the Blue Suns caught Zeed's attention. The burned, yellow garbs worn by the dead batarian were stained with blood leaking from a wound caused by piece of shrapnel being lodged in his stomach. This was a batarian noble, the color yellow was reserved for the members of the Hegemony's highest castes. The batarian's brown arms were resting on his injured legs as he leaned against the exterior of the shuttle. The cuts on the batarian's suggesting that ,in his inexperience, the alien had tried to remove the piece of brown metal stuck in his lower body, accelerating his death in the process. He had gotten the fate people like him deserved.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" he said as he reacted to the call of the man kneeling next to the dead noble.

"We struck gold, Sir," the human said as he ran another scan of the batarian's face, fine orange lines scouring his bloody features. "This is Heth Had'dah."

"What the hell would someone from such a rich family be doing out here? Double check him," Zaeed replied. While nobles would sometimes buy slaves themselves, someone as important as an Had'dah wouldn't go to a backwater raid camp like this one without a good reason. The family was far too rich for that. On the other hand, a member of the Had'dah family would explain the corporate sigil on the shuttle and yellow cloth, their wealth was more than sufficient cause to be deemed worthy of wearing yellow in the eyes of batarian society.

"No idea but," the Blue Suns operative held up his omni-tool, a scan showing a complete match between the corpse and a picture Heth Had'dah, "it's definitely him."

"Time to send a message then," Zaeed said as he kneeled down next to the operative, lifting the orange-stained blade to the batarian's eyes. "Sergeant Kuril?" he spoke into his radio as he began to carve out the eyes of the batarian wearing yellow. "Limit the explosion to structures only, I want them to find something."

"Understood," the voice of the turian came back, not questioning Zaeed's reasons.

"Creative," the human next to him commented as Zaeed used the yellow cloak to wipe the blood of his knife before observing his handiwork, "but they'll have a hard time identifying him now."

"Oh don't worry, Edam Had'dah is going to recognize his brother and it's going to piss him off. Who knows, he may come after us personally."

"Because the Hegemony didn't hate us enough already?" the human sighed.

Batarians believed that upon death, their soul left their body through their eyes and that anyone who had their eyes removed by enemy required immediate special treatment least their soul would get trapped inside their body, unable to ascend to batarian afterlife. By the time they would find this one, it would be too late for special treatment. Zaeed smirked. Psychological warfare at it's finest. Reading up on batarian culture had been lucrative and making an enemy angry was always a good way to throw them off their game.

"Yes but if they're pissed," Zaeed said as he placed his knife in its sheath, "they'll make mistakes," the commander got up from his kneeling position and pulled the helmet that had been attached to his belt over his head, "and if they make mistakes, they're easier to kill," his voice sounded through the filter, giving it the sentence a sinister finish. "Rally up people, as much as I'd like to hang around to kill some more batarians, duty calls."

* * *

 **2137 CE, Citadel, Office of Councilor Idril**

"So you're saying that a batarian dreadnought entered the system and simply picked up the Leviathan?" Desolas Arterius asked through the communication buoy network as Councilor Idril, or rather Cozek, looked at the turian general. He had reached out to him due to finally figuring out what had happened to the Leviathan of Dis.

Their cooperation with the humans had up to now had only helped to maximize the effectiveness of their search. The last four years had turned up nothing but the find of a minor prothean site at the hands of a turian 'survey crew' and a few months ago the single biggest piece of evidence they had possessed had vanished deep into the territory of the Batarian Hegemony, making it unreachable.

"Yes," Cozek simply confirmed.

"This isn't good, you know that," the general, whom Cozek had apparently interrupted during a field exercise, said. "Tell me you've got better news."

"Afraid not," the salarian replied. "My STG contacts haven't made any other breakthroughs."

"Alright, I'll let the humans know," Desolas said as he tossed his helmet from one hand to the other before the line closed. "Take care of yourself, Cozek."

"Suggest you do the same," Cozek replied as the turian general put on his helmet, hiding the most recent addition to his injuries.

"Sent in Agent Arterius," the salarian said as he pulled up his hood moments before the brother of the general stepped inside, unaware of the conversation that had ended mere seconds ago.

"You wanted to speak to me, Councilor?" the Spectre asked.

Saren Arterius had already gained something akin to a reputation among other members of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch. He had been active for the last three years, completing a series of operations linked to financial crime and arms smuggling, becoming the go-to agent of Cozek for more than just his abilities. The salarian had ensured to give the Spectre assignments that would allow him to prove himself up to the point of being seen as experienced enough to mentor a new candidate, a human candidate. Now the time to do that was drawing closer. A couple more regular missions or a particular big case and Saren would be considered a senior agent, if not through age but through success.

"I believe that you should see this," the former STG agent spoke as a recording of several workers loading weapons off a turian freighter resting in what looked like a docking bay began to play. "A theft to one of C-SEC's weapon shipments," the salarian clarified.

"How did they do it?" the turian asked. "There are countless of protocols in place to prevent something like this from happening."

"They followed the protocols," Cozek, or as Saren knew him, Councilor Idril, revealed. "They forged a permit to work on the craft, loaded the weapons of the freighter and into a transport vehicle, received a signature of the freighter's captain and drove off."

"But the weapons never reached C-SEC, did they?"

"No, they remain missing."

"Where did this happen?" Saren asked.

"Here on the Citadel," Cozek said.

"I mean no disrespect, Councilor Idril, but this sounds like a case for C-SEC, not a Spectre," the white-plated turian said as he folded his arms in front of his white-armor, covering the black Spectre sigil in the process.

"And normally you would be right," the salarian admitted. "The theft itself isn't what requires the attention of a Spectre, it's a small detail about the thieves that requires someone of your skill set, Agent Arterius."

"I'm listening."

"All workers were identified as having been trained by Had'dah Enterprises, a batarian Element Zero supplier based on Camala, the name should be familiar."

"Had'dah Enterprises was the company the Lower Wards arms dealer ring was supposedly backed by," Saren concluded.

Problems with the batarians living on the stations had grown even worse over the last few years and one of the cases Cozek had given to Saren Arterius had revealed a troubling connection between a group of arms dealers smuggling unregistered, military-grade weapons onto the Citadel and a rich batarian company, Had'dah Enterprises, which had seemingly aided them by providing means of transport. It had since been theorized that the arms dealers had attempted, and failed, to supply weapons to a group of radical batarian citizens living on the Citadel in preparation for an armed uprising. Had'dah Enterprises had managed to avoid further official backlash from the incident due to claiming that the arms dealers had stolen the freighters from Camala, something both the Spectres and STG had disagreed on, earning the company a spot on the Citadel's watch list.

"We fear that they may have decided to shift their strategy."

"Instead of smuggling weapons on the station, they steal them from C-SEC, weakening their opposition in the process," the turian reasoned. "The weapons most likely ended up in the hands of another group of radicals."

"Exactly," Cozek smiled at the Spectre's quick thought process. "We managed to track the workers back to Juxhi, we believe that the planet could be acting as a meeting spot for the leaders of the thieves and their corporate suppliers."

"Juxhi? I'm afraid I've never heard that name before," the Spectre admitted.

"An independent colony in the Attican Traverse, close to human space," the salarian councilor explained.

"Understood. You want me to go there?"

"Yes. Agent Arterius, I'm ordering you to head for Juxhi and find out if Had'dah Enterprises is once more connected to this incident."

"What about the radicals on the station?"

"C-SEC has already launched an investigation. Focus on finding a connection."

"What if I do find a connection?" the Spectre asked.

"Follow it until you manage to obtain conclusive evidence that Had'dah Enterprises is backing criminal activity on the station. Evidence they can't talk their way out of."

The Spectre nodded but remained standing in the room, causing Cozek to give him the permission to leave. "You're dismissed, Agent Arterius."

Sometimes turians were amusingly formal.

* * *

 **5\. January 2396 AD, HSASV Hastings** **, Enroute to the Vetus System**

Staff Lieutenant David Anderson pulled his chin over the bar once more before slowly letting himself descend, completing another pull-up. Hailing from Battlegroup Tesla, the naval formation currently acting as the HSA's continued military presence in the Skyllian Verge, the Hastings, alongside the three other frigates of its wolf pack, had been stuck with patrol duty for the last two weeks, splitting of the main fleet lying in wait at the relay with the most connections in the region.

HSA doctrine was clear on the matter, there was no point in stationing fleets around every single piece of territory. Instead human naval tacticians were following the principle that he who tries to defend everything, defends nothing. According to the navy's strategy, smaller groups would irregularly visit points of interest while the majority of naval assets would remain close to the most central mass relay of the region they were assigned to, ensuring that they would have minimal reaction time to any distress signal or report of the long range patrols. While this ensured a reaction in force, it also meant that the smaller patrol formations, like the Hastings and her pack, were more vulnerable due to being separated from the rest of their fleet. This meant that the ordinary naval personal on the vessel was actually quite busy as the frigate regularly jumped through the relay network, visiting a number of colonies, outposts, mining and research facilities. It also meant that he and the N7 detachment he was commanding were stuck with nothing to do besides training. For this reason his entire platoon was currently occupying the Hastings' training room.

At least until something came up.

Since the Hastings was currently enroute to Elysium, intending to refuel before continuing its patrol, the prospect of something coming up was rather small. Elysium was the logistical hub of the HSA in the Skyllian Verge and as such frequently visited by HSA naval formations. While the Tesla and the majority of its battlegroup were currently occupied somewhere else, the chance of something coming up was small.

"Lieutenant Anderson!" he heard someone shout and as currently the sole representative of the rank in the gym, he dropped from the bar.

"Yes?" he turned around to face the source of the sound, another lieutenant.

"You need to get to the bridge right now," the woman said. "It's urgent."

"What about the rest of my unit?"

"Tell them to get in gear and wait in the hangar."

"You heard the lady. Master Chief Rico, get the guys combat ready!" he called through the gym, a faint 'yes, sir' echoing across the room after his order, before following her towards the bridge of the Hastings, stepping inside the elevator after a short jog.

"What happened?" Anderson asked. "Is Elysium under attack?" he asked perplexed.

"No," the other lieutenant explained as the elevator ascended. "We picked up a distress signal from the research facility on Sidon the moment we dropped out of the relay and we're closest to it."

Anderson raised his eyebrow. "Doesn't exactly sound like a job for N7."

"The facility is under attack, Lieutenant."

"Next time, lead with that," Anderson suggested. "How didn't the attackers get spotted earlier?"

"Unknown."

"By whom is the base under attack?"

"Unknown," the lieutenant repeated.

"What do you know?" Anderson sighed.

"Only that whatever they are researching is highly classified and that the distress signal activated a few minutes after we left the relay."

"Who's in charge of the base?" Anderson asked as they walked out of the elevator and through the corridors.

"Doctor Shu Qian," the lieutenant said before they entered the bridge, "Captain," she and Anderson saluted.

"At ease," the captain ordered. "Lieutenant Anderson, a word," the officer gestured for David Anderson to follow him. As they walked across the bridge, the captain brought up a tablet before handing it to Anderson. Visible on it was a map of the region and the picture of a domed outpost.

"No blueprints?"

The captain shook his head.

"Listen, I don't know what is going on down there and originally I called you up here to discuss our strategy but top-brass just got involved, left a message for you."

"What did they say?" Anderson asked as the captain looked around himself.

"Nothing you find down there leaves the planet. They made it sound like whatever they were doing on Sidon is all kinds of illegal. This one's completely of the books."

"That's cryptic, Sir," Anderson replied.

"I know," the officer sighed. "Take a small team, get down there, find out what the hell is happening, find out who those attackers are and get your unit and any survivors the hell of that world. Meanwhile I'll wipe the records."

"Copy that, Sir," Anderson nodded.

"Dismissed."

* * *

 **30 Minutes Later, Surface of Sidon**

The domed research facility had looked smaller on the picture, at least that's what Anderson thought as the N7 unit jumped out of the Kodiaks and onto Sidon's icy surface.

The planet was dominated by wide, cold deserts and unlike Elysium completely desolate. There were no other settlements, no skyscrapers, no towns, not even other research domes. For hundreds of kilometers there was nothing besides this research lab and there was a reason for that. Anderson knew that shortly after the Fringe Wars Sidon had been eyed for limited colonialisation by a private corporation , only for the HSA to pay a surprisingly large sum to keep them offworld before swiftly declaring the Sidon 'too dangerous' to be colonized. Ever since then a tight lip had been kept in regards to the icy sister planet of Elysium. No one really knew what exactly the HSA was doing on this planet. As such conspiracy theorists had long since used Sidon as fuel for their stories, declaring the world to be, among others, the site of the single largest prothean cache ever found, a secret military installation researching biological warfare or a large proving ground for experimental weapons that would be far too damaging to use on the HSA's regular exercise grounds. Furthermore IFS sympathizers suspected that Sidon was stocked with WMDs intended to use on Elysium should they ever rise up again.

He shook his head at their theories as he jogged up the dome and noticed the distinctive lack of damage at the main gate. There were no signs of explosions, no scorch marks of breaching charges and no mass accelerator impacts. By the looks of it, whoever had attacked the base had simply walked inside.

"Single file, Falk you're on point."

"Yes, Sir."

The N7 team began their march into the darkness of the research dome, an eerily silence accompanying the results of the power outage. There was no sound of gunfire, no signs of a battle. The dome had been staffed by three dozen scientists, a couple of guards and several technicians but not a single body was to be found. By the looks of it, no one had put up a fight, probably unaware of the fact that an enemy strike team had walked in the front gate. The unit ventured deeper into the base, and soon found themselves closing in on a security checkpoint. A few meters in front of it the pointman raised his fist, causing the fifteen N7s to halt their advance.

"Found one, Sir," he heard the N7 say as he nodded towards a glass panel, cracks spreading across the surface from a single round entry hole . "Clean shot through the head, never saw it coming," the soldier added as he crept into the room.

The N7 operative stood next to a guard sitting in a chair, a patch on his otherwise black combat fatigues identifying him as not a marine, as the uniform would suggest, but a member of the HSAIS. He was slumped over a terminal, pistol still in its holster and head turned away to the left, revealing a peaceful expression on his face. He hadn't seen his attacker coming.

"Took them by complete surprise," Anderson figured. Something about this attack was strange.

"Not all of them, Sir," another N7 said further down the line, causing Anderson to turn to him. "That one went for his gun," the soldier said as she pointed to a guard with several holes in his chest, a SIS-8 clutched in his hands.

"Follow me," he said as he walked towards the room, which upon closer inspection turned out to be the security office of the dome. He turned his head around the corner and saw several corpses sprawled out across the small room, blood stains on the lockers appearing as a darker shade of green inside his night vision HUD as he inspected the scene. One of the guards had been shot in the face right in the door way, his corpse staring at Anderson in a mixture of fear and surprise. Beyond him six other members of the security staff had been gunned down in rapid, professional fashion.

"So they took out the first guy by complete surprise and blitzed the rest with overwhelming force. Precise and fast, my money is on mercs, " Master Chief Rico, a soldier that had already been part of his unit when they had gone after Sederis, figured. "Think someone let them in?"

"Would certainly explain how they got the drop on them."

"Great, a traitor," the master chief sighed. "Jesus, I don't wanna know what we'll find behind that door. It's gonna be ugly."

"Neither do I," Anderson sighed as they walked back to the security checkpoint. "But there might be survivors."

"Let's get this over with," the soldier nodded as he opened the door.

The scene that revealed itself to Anderson was unsettling to say the least. They had most certainly found the majority of the staff. However the hope of finding survivors had been crushed the moment he spotted them. Lying next to an incredibly darkgreen, or rather bloody, wall dozens of scientists and technicians were stacked on top of each other, executed.

"Fucking hell," the non-commissioned next to him muttered.

"Lined up and shot," another N7 commented as she walked up next to Anderson.

"Rico, take two men and go through the bodies," Anderson ordered. "Compare them with the personal lists, we need to know if this is everyone."

The lieutenant drew in a deep breath. Finding the aftermath of an attack was one thing, stumbling into a massacre was another. He felt his stomach drop has he inspected one of the corpses, a single round had embedded itself into the skull of the man, his glasses still somewhat attached to the remains of his head. The fear on his face was as clear as day and by the looks of the wound, he had stared his executioner right in the eyes. It took a special kind of person to execute an unarmed person in such a personal manner outside of combat.

"The rest of you spread out the lab in groups of three. Try to figure out what the hell happened here. Falk, Lisov, you're with me."

Anderson and the two N7s accompanying him walked through the darkness as they looked around the lab. The power had been cut, most likely by the attackers, and as such none of the screens were turned on, giving no insight into what the base on Sidon had been researching. The room lacked traditional laboratory gear or at least it didn't look like David Anderson imagined a top-secret HSA laboratory to look like. There were a lot of consoles, a lot of wiring and a lot of questions.

"Dammit," he heard Falk curse as the soldier tripped over something on the floor, stumbling against a wall to catch his fall, an empty sounding thudding following the impact of his head with the metal surface.

"That didn't sound normal," Lisov commented as she helped the soldier to his feet.

"Do that again Falk," Anderson spoke as he turned towards the man.

"What? You want me to trip again?" the soldier asked in confusion as he shook his head. Apparently his helmet hadn't done its job good enough.

Without having to say another word Lisov walked over to the wall and knocked her armored fist against, a hollow noise echoing through the laboratory.

"There's something behind this wall," the N7 officer said as he stood next to the woman. "Falk, get the tech guy over here."

"Aye, aye, Skipper," the soldier who may have just uncovered an actual conspiracy theory said as he turned back into the direction they had come from.

"Secret trapdoor in the wall?" Lisov asked. "Kind of cliche if you ask me, Sir."

"I'd rather ask you if you know how to open it," Anderson replied as his hands raced over the metal surface. In the movies there was always a secret pressure plate that had to be pushed or a panel that had to be turned into a certain direction to unlock the hidden passage but somehow the N7 doubted that the HSA would use something as popular as this to disguise a hidden room within an already secretive laboratory.

"What were they doing here?" Lisov questioned as she pushed her hands against the wall. "I'm starting to think those conspiracy nutjobs might have been onto something. Maybe it really is a prothean cache?"

"Let's focus on getting in first," Anderson muttered as knocked against the wall again to determine just how far the hollow space behind it reached. As far as he could tell it had to be a big room. He could walk several meters to the left and the wall was still as hollow as where Falk had stumbled into it.

"Maybe we have to press the right place at the same time?" Lisov guessed.

"Could be," Anderson nodded. "But where?"

"Terminal on the wall over there," a voice behind him informed the lieutenant. "At least that's where the wires behind this wall lead. I can restore limited power," the N7 looked at Anderson before the officer nodded, the glow of the engineer's omni-tool, a rather handy addition to the arsenal of the HSA's more elite forces, following Anderson's nod. "Done."

"Brought the tech guy," Falk chuckled as he looked at the two N7s inspecting the wall. "With all due respect, Sir, you two look like idiots."

"Make yourself useful and activate the terminal, Falk," Lisov sighed.

The soldier laughed in a joyful manner before jogging over to the now activated terminal, avoiding stumbling this time around. He lingered for a couple of seconds before entering a series of commands, a hiss in front of David Anderson following whatever Falk had done.

"Secret door," the tech guy, Petty Officer Kinsley, said surprised as he turned to Falk. "You weren't fucking with me."

"Rico, we found something. Keep checking the bodies with your team, the rest of you rally on me," Anderson ordered. "Looks like an elevator."

"Everything but bio weapons," Falk pleaded as Anderson, the tech guy, Falk himself and Lisov stepped onto the platform.

"Goes down roughly 15 meters," the N7 that had pointed him to the terminal informed them as the elevator began to descend.

"Sir, we've finished identifying the corpses," Rico spoke. "All but two people are accounted for."

"Shit," so just about anyone was dead. Not a good sign. "Who is missing?"

"The head scientist and one Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders, she's part of the navy's research and development group, listed as a member of the technical staff."

"Copy that. Secure whatever data you can find up there, start with Qian's room."

"Aye, aye."

Moments after the conversation had finished, the doors of the elevator opened up and in doing so introduced Anderson and the other three N7s to an underground facility. Large processors were lining the room, coolant tanks attached to them as dozens of screens were connected to a central control unit. Power to this part of the facility was still very much active and Anderson noticed that one of the screens depicted a rather strange looking something. He couldn't quite tell what exactly he was looking at, only the smooth shape of it really standing out to him but before he could investigate any further, the sound of gunfire erupted to his left.

"Contact 10 o'clock!" Kinsley roared as his SR8 unleashed a deadly burst of bullets, dropping a black humanoid figure before he and the rest of the N7s went for cover. Precise fire was pouring down on them, causing the lieutenant to dive behind a shipping container.

"Falk, go left," Anderson roared as he peaked around the corner, firing four rounds into the kinetic barrier of what could either have been a batarian or a human before once more hunkering down as small rounds bounced of the metal crate. He had counted five targets.

"I'll overload their shields," the engineer spoke as his omni-tool flared to live. A blue electric current hit the figure the lieutenant had just shot before Falk killed him with a headshot, a dark red cloud shooting out of his four-eyed helmet. Anderson would have to put in a requisition for a combat-grade device himself. They were very much effective due to their versatility but the model he had been issued wasn't meant to be used for anything besides administrative tasks and communication.

"Lisov, flashbang, Falk prepare to get close!" he ordered before a white flash exploded in the air, allowing himself and the engineer to pour suppressive fire on the attackers while the man who had discovered the elevator jumped into their side, his assault rifle spitting death into their exposed sides, killing most of them.

Anderson went to exchange the spent magazine as Lisov grunted in pain, an injured batarian who had removed his helmet to reveal an evil grin pointing a smoking gun at him before pulling out a rather deadly looking device from his backpack.

A bomb. A big one.

His rifle was spent, the SIS-8 was his only option.

Too slow.

"You'll burn, human scum," the injured batarian laughed as he pressed a button on the box, red symbols flashing on its display. "You'll all bu-"

He was stopped from gloating as Lisov returned the favour, turning his face into a shade of its former self as she emptied the rest of her magazine.

"Everyone, get the hell out of the base!" Anderson roared through the radio. He didn't know batarian but they wouldn't have long. He saw Kinsely pick up Lisov, who was thankfully the by far lightest one of the four, and the unit rushed for the elevator.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Falk said while slapping medigel onto Lisov's wound, stopping the quick flood of blood in the process. They were sitting ducks inside this cage. He wouldn't die in an elevator, that would be disgraceful. Mercifully, the doors opened just as he had finished the though to reveal Master Chief Rico waiting for them.

"I told you to get out!" Anderson said as they ran past him, "if you blow up alongside us, I'm killing you."

"I'd want you to," the man replied as they shot past the security checkpoint, the light of Sidon's surface already visible up ahead. Just a few more meters.

Anderson ran as fast as he could yet somehow the engineer, still carrying Lisov, managed to stay in front of him. Whether the officer in David refused to overtake his comrades or if the knowledge of running for two people gave the other N7 a unknown reserve to go back to was beyond him at the moment. He could see the black silhouettes of other N7s waiting outside as their onyx armor stood in stark contrast to Sidon's white surface. They were waiting for them some fifty meters outside the base.

"Keep moving! Get clear!" he shouted as he reached the outside and the figures once more picked up their pace. "It's gonna blo-"

He felt himself being thrown forward and saw Petty Officer Kinsley flying ahead of him, trying his best to break the fall of both himself and Lisov but failing, rolling through the snow and reopening the wound in the process. Falk and Rico, who had been between himself and the other two N7s fared much better, rolling once before coming to a stop.

Anderson himself simply flew past them, taking the brunt of the explosion to his back before hitting the ground.

Hard.

He saw a small crack appear in his face plate and felt pain in his entire body but the knowledge of still being capable of feeling pain relieved him. If his legs were hurting, he wasn't paralysed.

"Close that wound," he heard Rico shout, stepping up at his own lack of command. "You still with us, Skipper?"

"I wish I wasn't," Anderson attempted to joke, a painful moan following the beginning of a laugh.

"Anything broken, Sir?" the N7 asked before touching him. If David had received damage to his spine, moving him could proof fatal. Rico was right to ask the Lieutenant given the fact that he was conscious and experienced enough to know if anything was damaged.

"Don't think so," Anderson sighed. He knew his luck would run out eventually, he was just glad it hadn't happened today.

"What the hell happened?" Rico asked as Anderson felt himself being turned over.

"Mercenaries, batarians," the N7 officer explained she wiped the snow that had been obstructing his visor. "Shot Lisov, primed a bomb before dying. My gun was dry, couldn't stop him."

"Bastards." Rico asked as he helped Anderson to his feet, the now smoking dome behind them clouding the sky black.

"How's Lisov?" the lieutenant asked towards the engineer who was now joined by a medic.

"Stable, Sir," the woman herself grunted back. She still had some fight in her.

"What were they doing here?" Rico asked, causing him to turn back to the master chief.

"Damned if I know," David Anderson replied as he checked his HUD to see if his suit was compromised, once more finding that his luck had pulled through for him. Still environmentally sealed. Time to call home. "Hastings, this is Lieutenant Anderson. The facility just blew up, batarian mercenaries attacked it. No survivors but two members of the staff are unaccounted for. We got one injured and need pick up, over."

"Acknowledged, Kodiaks are inbound, over and out," a voice replied through his radio.

"Did you find anything before you had to book it?"

"Managed to get a look at the doctor's latest report," Rico replied as he brought up his own omni-tool

"And?"

"Well I don't know where Doctor Qian went but I did find something interesting about the other missing staff member."

"Lieutenant Sanders? What about her?" Anderson said as Rico tossed a smoke grenade for the Kodiaks to find them, even in the age of mass relays visual identification was still the most reliable method. The green gas began to disperse itself through the air as the wind carried it west.

"She went reportedly AWOL a few hours before the distress signal was sent," the master chief sighed as his own omni-tool lit up. "Looks like we found our traitor," the face of an attractive blonde woman with icy blue eyes looked at Anderson.

"Let's get of this rock."

* * *

 _Codex: Slaver Bands_

 _After the Rachni Wars limited expansion and the Krogan Rebellions left the Council unwilling and unable to consolidate its rule over every settled world in the galaxy, independent colonies began to appear within the Attican Traverse, the region separating the Citadel space from the lawless regions of the Terminus Systems. The independent worlds, unaffiliated with the Citadel Council, soon became the target of batarian slavers. The Batarian Hegemony, whose economy relied heavily on a caste-based form of slavery, realized the potential of incorporating aliens within the ranks of their servants and jumped at the chance to finally have access to a large, non-batarian pool of potential slaves. This marked the beginning of its still active campaign aiming to secretly support selected slaver bands._

 _Back then, still an associate of the Citadel Council, the batarian government couldn't officially back the slaver bands but over the course of centuries groups based in the Terminus Systems turned from small criminal gangs into large, government-sponsored paramilitary organisations, ravaging across the Attican Traverse for several hundreds years through the help of batarian military advisors. Abductions turned into full-blown planetary assaults and small raiding vessels into large slave barges as the demand for alien slaves and the support of the Batarian Hegemony, grew. This growth resulted in a golden age for slavers, several states based entirely on capturing and selling independent colonists being founded in the Terminus Systems. These rogue nations grew to a point at which they began to prey on colonies of the Citadel Council. Raid after raid finally causing the Turian Hierarchy to request the Council's permission to launch a preemptive strike which would've set off a war on a scale not seen since the Krogan Rebellions. This request was denied, leaving the slaver states to grow._

 _However the rise of mercenary organisations such as Eclipe saw the slavers crumble as they were suddenly faced with more than just planetary militias. Wealthy worlds and companies in the Terminus Systems and Attican Traverse began hiring the private military corporations to keep the slavers of their back. But instead of discouraging the Batarian Hegemony, the decline of a steady stream of slaves caused it to step up its support, supplying selected slaver bands with outdated military gear and naval vessels, effectively starting a war between mercenaries and slavers though the later remained outgunned and outclassed by the modern equipment and training of the private military contractors paid to hunt them down. Combined with the turian effort to purge slavery from Council Space, the slaver states were pushed from being a dangerous threat to a nuisance for over one hundred years._

 _The Human Mercenary Intervention (See Entry 'Human Mercenary Intervention 2387/88 AD') led to a renaissance for the slavers as Eclipse was shattered by HSA forces, allowing batarian-backed slavers to fill the power vacuum left by Eclipse. The gangs grew in strength as they once more set their eyes on Council worlds in the Attican Traverse and human planets in the Skyllian Verge. But they would not remain unchallenged as another contender stepped up. With unknown origin and wealthy supporters , the Blue Suns continued what Eclipse had started._

 _Slavery in the Attican Traverse would reach a new height in 2402 AD, the year the Batarian Hegemony formally withdrew from the Citadel, revoking its associate status and increasing its support of slaver bands to an all time high in 2408 AD, resulting in the Skyllian Blitz.(See Entry 'Skyllian Blitz')_

 _In 2409 AD the slaver renaissance ended with the Battle of Torfan, the death of several high profile individuals causing most groups to withdraw into the Terminus Systems, their leaders afraid of becoming victims of yet another bloodbath at the hands of 'Ardat-Torfana', the 'Demon of Torfan'._

* * *

 **A/N: Chapter 25 is done. Now starting, something that follows the basic plot outlined by Mass Effect Revelation, a book I never read but is integral to the stuff that caused Mass Effect 1. I feel kind of bad basically just retelling the general plot so I'll probably only follow the most basic outlines of it. A lot of stuff that happens in the book can't happen the way it did in Semper Vigilo due to how different the canon timeline and mine are by now.**

 **It'll probably take me somewhat longer to create the chapters covering this storyline because I need to make sure that the stuff makes sense but I'll try my hardest. This will be a very Saren-heavy story arc, at least I plan it to be. I look forward to writing more about him since he's still the protagonist of the pre-mass effect storyline of Semper Vigilo.**

 **Now I'd like for you to tell me what you think of the chapter, you know give me my review fix and all that stuff.**

 **For the record we're at 187 reviews, 379 favorites and 470 follows. That's a lot. Like I know I say this often but I never expected Semper Vigilo to become this popular.**

 **See you around next time.**


	26. A Shift Of Priorities

**Chapter** **26\. A Shift Of Priorities**

* * *

 **Early 2138 CE, Juxhi, Warehouse near Phaed**

The first thought crossing Saren's mind as he spotted the person stepping out of the skycar from his position on a roof that overlooked the dark-green storage building at the edge of Juxhi's capital, was that this was just the conclusive evidence Councilor Idril had asked for. The batarian, the link between his scope and omni-tool identifying him through the use of an STG program, who had just stepped out of a black X3M with Had'dah Enterprises' logo imprinted on it was a member of Edan Had'dah's inner circle. As far as the data pouring across his HUD informed him, this particular employee, Groto Ib-ba, was part of the company's private security detachment, an officer to be precise. While lacking numbers, the people selected to guard Edan Had'dah's property were well equipped, trained and experienced. If put against pirates, slaves or upset miners, they'd come out on top ten out of ten times.

But Saren knew that he was on a whole other level compared to the corporate enforcers and he was eager to put an end to this mission. The Spectre had spent the last few months rigorously hunting down members of the crew that had stolen the weapons from C-SEC, taking his time to stalk them across Juxhi, an independent colony mostly covered in deserts and canoyns settled for the resources hidden below its sandy dunes . After crossing them off one after another, Saren had managed to convince the last thief to give up the location of the next meeting spot. Now he lay in wait for his moment to strike, a Mantis sniper rifle resting against his shoulder serving as both a weapon and a tool of observation at the same time.

While his biotics made him an excellent up close fighter, Blackwatch had taken its time to teach him the art of killing from a distance. An art that would help him take care of the perimeter guards. The rifle was fitted with a mod that would reduce the noise of the gunshot and lower the muzzle flash and as the first sand grain sized round killed an unsuspecting mercenary clad in black armor, the dark red blood shooting out of his four-eyed head identifying him as batarian, he found the modification to be a good investment. He moved his crosshairs over the next guard, this one a counter-sniper completely failing at his job, and squeezed the trigger, sending another deadly projectile tearing through the air. The round shattered his barriers and reduced his exposed head to a mixture of bone, blood and brains before silently impacting in one of the dunes in the distance, burying itself in the sand. The turian Spectre shifted his aim again and dispatched another guard, once more noticing the black armor of the surprisingly female batarian.

Apparently Had'dah Enterprises wasn't as strict as the Batarian Hegemony on who could join their security forces. Normally batarian women were excluded from armed service, it was rare to see them carrying weapons and it was even rarer to see them walking around in several layers of combat-grade armor. Not that it had helped this particular one.

Paying no further notice to the fact that the Eezo supplier was more progressive than batarian social doctrine dictated, he dispatched a fourth guard before allowing the Mantis rifle to cool down, a small jet of heat clashing with the cold desert air. While many would believe a planet like Juxhi would be unbearably hot, it was a fact of nature that the sandy landscape got surprisingly cold once the sun vanished from the sky and the planet's two moons, Yando and Budmi appeared in its place.

Scanning the perimeter once more to confirm that his count of the number of enemies was correct, he pressed a button that folded the rifle in his hand into a much smaller rectangle before locking it in place on the back of his white armor. He walked over to the edge and took another step forward, a move that would've resulted in a bone shattering fall for most turians. Being biotic, he simply reduced his own mass shortly before hitting the ground, allowing his armored feet to silently and softly touch the ground before he began to sneak towards the warehouse. As far as his research had indicated the building was a single story, single room construct with small catwalks overlooking a number of large storage shelves which effectively split the big hall apart. Their solid frame might provide cover from both sight and gunfire should the situation call for it.

If he was fast enough he wouldn't have to find out.

Jumping over the fence with practiced ease, Saren crept up to the dark-green metal making up the outer shell of the building, light from the inside shining through the large, tainted windows above him. He stepped up to the door, running a bypass program through its lock system and opening it in the process. The Spectre took a step inside and when no one began to shoot in his direction, he was certain that the noise which had been created by the opening of the door hadn't been noticed. He quickly jumped behind one of the large shelves and readied his Carnifex.

The moment to strike was drawing closer.

"I'm telling you, someone's after us," a concerned batarian pleaded as Saren snuck through the large storage room, spotting two distinctive kinds of batarians talking to each other. One was obviously the man sent by Had'dah Enterprises, the company logo clearly visible on his chest. The other wore civilian clothes, working fatigues to be precise, the thief. If Saren didn't know any better, he would've taken him for a dock worker.

"You're being paid to steal and deliver," the security staff member replied as the Spectre pulled an unsuspecting guard into the shadows, breaking his neck with a powerful twist before slowly letting him sink to the floor. He only needed two people to survive this encounter, the two batarians talking with each other. The rest was expendable.

"I can't steal for you if my crew is being picked off one after another."

"When did this begin?" the security officer asked as Saren moved through the shadows, a quick purple pulse followed by a wet crunch marking the death of the sixth guard, the four eyed helmet, rounder proportions and smaller frame indicating that it was yet another female batarian. The number of guards was quickly decreasing.

"Months ago, we're the last one's left," the batarian said as he pointed at himself and his two companions. The last people on Saren's list of targets, conveniently gathered in one place. He couldn't possibly ask for more. He climbed up on the catwalk overlooking the six figures in the center and dispatched one of the two guards lingering above the storage by choking him until he stopped to struggle, taking care to refrain from spilling blood that could potentially drip down to the floor and alert his targets of his presence. He rested the guard against the railing of the catwalk and leveled his Carnifex on the head of the second batarian overlooking the meeting.

"You're being hunted," the other batarian replied. Saren did not like where this was going.

"Of course we're being hunted, one of our own got picked of two days ago" the thief replied. "It's why we contacted you. We need Had'dah to get us off of Jaxhi."

"About that," the batarian smirked, sharp fangs revealing themselves,"Had'dah Enterprises no longer requires your services. Edan Had'dah has opted to take a different approach to fulfill his plans. Your crew is no longer worth the risk it posses."

That sounded suspiciously like Saren would have to act sooner than he had hoped. He couldn't allow his piece of conclusive evidence to murder his target. He had to act now, the security officer was already reaching for his sidearm.

"Wha-" the surprised question was interrupted as Saren fired his Carnifex at the remaining guard of the catwalk, several round penetrating his barriers and causing the batarian's chest to burst open, forcing him to collapse in pain. Before the people on the ground could react and aim their weapons at the catwalk, the Spectre leaped over the railing, firing the heavy pistol at one of the two guards, taking out his shields before scoring a headshot in spite of falling towards the ground. Saren broke his fall through a roll and found himself between the two groups, a grey Terminator assault rifle being raised at him but the batarian was too were too slow.

Saren was surrounded by a purple glow before using his biotics to throw one of the two batarian thieves that had tagged along with their boss towards the remaining security guard, the ensuring collision throwing both of them to the ground and sending the grey rifle sliding across the floor of the warehouse. He smacked the heavy weapon in his hand against the head of the other batarian criminal, venting its heat-sink as the gun connected with the man's face and blinding the smuggler with a hot jet of air. Then he grabbed a hold of the thief, throwing him to the side and away from his line of fire before charging the high-ranking Had'dah Enterprises security officer.

He was a big guy and being batarian meant that he was somewhat stronger than most people but none of that mattered considering he was going up against a turian Spectre. To call it a fight would've been an insult to Saren. The exchange of blows ended two seconds after it had started, a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder, a armored hand around his throat and a loaded Carnifex pointing at his head stopping Groto Ib-ba from putting up any more resistance.

"Who are you?" the security officer coughed through Saren's chokehold as the Spectre caught movement in the corner of his eye. The guard who he had incapacitated by throwing another batarian at him was trying to lift the criminal off himself to reach his sidearm. Two well-placed shots into his exposed, dark-red head stopping him from getting up ever again.

Saren didn't answer any further than that, instead forcing the batarian towards the direction of the thief he had reserved for questioning, seeing him make a run for it. Why he though he could escape was beyond the turian.

A single bullet tore past his head.

"I won't miss next time," Saren called through the room as the batarian raised his hands and turned around. "That's a promise."

"You fool," the injured batarian grunted as Saren threw him into one of the shelves, "You led him here!"

"That's true," Saren admitted. "Now I suggest you tell me about Had'dah's plans."

"In your dreams, turian," the batarian said as the Spectre leveled his Carnifex at him before turning his head towards the uninjured thief. He'd come back to this one.

"What did Had'dah Enterprises hire you to do," he asked, as he focused on the batarian's upper set of eyes. Saren's glare was sharp and aggressive, contrasting the visible fear on the thief's face. His tone combined with the fact that he had utterly destroyed the armed guards in a matter of moments working in his favour. He didn't need a lot of words or a beatdown to get this one to talk. He had already displayed how serious he was.

"Steal weapons from C-SEC to arm a group of batarians in the Lower Wards," his captive immediately replied.

"What for?" the Spectre asked.

"To attack the human and turian embassies," interesting. His guess had been an armed uprising, not a terroristic attack and up to now none of the thieves had known what exactly they were stealing for.

"Why?" Saren asked again, taking care to sound intimidating.

"I-I don't know," the Spectre turned his glare at the other batarian and prepared himself to change his interrogation tactics. This one wouldn't be as easy as the thief. He took a step towards him and considered his options but before he could act, the batarian sighed.

"I'm not getting paid enough for this," the batarian grunted as he set up a bit, "Had'dah hates them, your people and the humans. More so than any other man I've ever met," the injured batarian began. He took a look at the security officer sitting on the floor, both of his arms hanging from his shoulders, a bone fragment sticking out off one of them, his face already slightly paler than before. Maybe the pain had changed his mind. "Ever since his brother was killed, he's been plotting against them, funding slavers, arming radicals. He's lost his mind."

The last one peaked Saren's interest.

"He lost his mind?" the turian inquired."How?"

"Shortly after his brother was killed, he found something. I don't know what it is. No one does. But it changed him, changed his priorities," the batarian explained, "his company is being run by the board now. The only thing he cares about is his revenge. Instead of focusing on the business, he's spending his fortune on slavers, mercenaries and thieves."

"You said he no longer need the smugglers," Saren said as he nodded at the thief, "why?"

The batarian hesitated but as the turian Spectre came another step closer, he once more began to talk.

"He found another way to enact his revenge, sent some of us after a human but something didn't go according to his plan. I don't know any details I just know that things didn't go according to the plan and that he hired a krogan to clean things up."

"Who?"

"A bounty hunter that goes by the name of Skarr. Last I heard he was headed for Elysium," the batarian answered. "Whoever he's going after, you won't save them. They'll be dead long befo-"

Saren's left foot connecting with his head stopped Groto Ib-ba from talking. The Spectre had heard everything he needed to know and stopped his omni-tool from recording any further. He was almost done here.

He turned towards the batarian thief and considered his options. The man had stolen from C-SEC, was a smuggler and had probably broken all kinds of laws in his criminal career. He couldn't let him go and he couldn't afford the time to turn him in personally. The pragmatic choice would've been to put him down where he was standing. Saren was used to killing, it was part of his life. By all means he should put a round through the batarian's head and be done with him, just another casualty on his record.

But shooting an unarmed, terrified thief was wrong. This man was a criminal but he wasn't a slaver, this man wasn't a threat to others, this wasn't someone who had to die. Killing him wouldn't be justice, it would be murder.

Saren Arterius was a great deal of things. Turian, bareface, soldier, Cabal, Blackwatch operative and Spectre. His status meant that he wouldn't face any repercussion for most of his actions, he was above the law but he wasn't a murderer, not yet. There was still another option.

He pressed a button on his omni-tool, opening a prepared message to Phaed's police department, adding the fact that one suspect was conscious and waiting at the scene before sending it.

"The police will arrive shortly, don't run. Turn yourself in, pay for your crimes and never go down this road again," the Spectre spoke in a low voice as the typical turian flanging echoed alongside his order. "I'll know if you run. I'll come back for you and I won't show mercy again."

Without saying another word, Saren walked away from the carnage he had created in pursuit of his mission and stepped outside into the cold desert air. He climbed over the fence, walked behind the building he had used as an observation point and opened the door to the rented skycar, plotting a flight path to the hotel he had used as a base of operations to retrieve the rest of his gear. During the flight he already began gathering intel on Skarr, booking a trip to Elysium in the process.

His work was far from finished.

* * *

 **Two Days Earlier, 8. January 2396 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy**

Staff Lieutenant David Anderson had been alarmed when he had been informed of an attack on a research facility. He had been weary when the Hasting's captain had told him that HSA top-brass wanted nothing to get off of Sidon and he had been suspicious when there had been signs of fighting on the surface. After finding the base to be the site of a mass execution, mercenaries killing all but two of Sidon's staff, he had been angry and when Falk had stumbled, revealing a secret elevator in the process, he had been surprised. When his unit had been attacked by batarian mercenaries, he had fought under the influence of adrenaline and when a bomb threw him several meters through the air, he had survived the blast. Finally, when Rico had revealed that one of the missing staff members, Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders, had left mere hours before the distress signal had been activated, Anderson had began to question her role in it. He had been trained to know just what to do in all of these situations.

Now he was absolutely clueless what to do with the situation at hand.

After the Kodiaks had evacuated them from the freezing surface of Elysium's sister planet, the Hastings had received to orders to refuel before moving to the Citadel without further adue. Once docked to the space station, most of the ship's crew had been sent to shore leave. His N7 team had been asked to stay put. After a few hours, the captain had informed David that someone at the embassy had summoned him for a detailed debrief.

Now that someone had arrived.

"Good morning, Staff Lieutenant ," the human ambassador on the Citadel, Anita Goyle, smiled as she walked into the room. Her appearance reminded him of Kahlee Sanders, the alleged traitor. Blonde hair, blue eyes, by all means attractive. She was the woman who had negotiated the terms of the HSA's associate status with the Citadel Council and some voices already spoke of her a worthy successor for the current chancellor. She was still a politician, David Anderson was always weary of politicians. Most of the times their smiles disguised another agenda.

"Good morning, Ambassador Goyle," he replied as he got up from the chair before saluting.

"I've heard a lot of things about you," the ambassador admitted as she went to shake his hand.

"You did?" Anderson asked confused. There was little to no reason as to why a diplomat would read through his file.

"We'll get to that later," she smiled once more, leaving him hanging. This was off to a great start. "Sit down," she gestured for the chair he had just abandoned as she sat down at her desk, the window behind her revealing the Presidium in all of its glory. "Your mission on Sidon, tell me about it," the woman asked as she looked at her terminal, most likely reading along the report to make sure he didn't skip over any details.

"We received a distress signal originating from the facility and on the orders of the captain I led a team of N7s onto the surface while he purged the logs of the encounter, as it was ordered by top-brass," the dark-skinned man explained. "Once we touched down on Sidon, we investigated the facility, initially finding no signs of forced entry which lead us to believe that the attackers, who turned out to be batarian mercenaries, somehow received access to the lab's security systems, allowing them to infiltrate the dome. We continued inside, encountering no signs of fighting until we found the corpses of the security team."

"Who were 'blitzed?" Goyle raised an eyebrow at the term.

"Taken by surprise and overpowered by a quick, brutal and precise attack," the N7 clarified. "They never got the chance of fighting back, didn't fire a single round," Anderson sighed as he continued to recount the events. "After that we entered the main laboratory, where-"

"Where you found most of the staff massacred, barring two exceptions. The head of the facility, Doctor Qian, and Lieutenant Sanders, a naval officer attached to the technical staff," Goyle hijacked his report. "Then you stumbled upon the entry of a secret laboratory below the research dome where you engaged the batarian mercenaries, one of which set off a detonation you barely escaped from. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Lieutenant Anderson," Goyle began, "I'll be upfront with you."

That peaked the N7's interest. He usually disliked politicians because they were anything but upfront.

"The sublevel you found was conducting research in a highly illegal field. Artificial intelligence," Goyle admitted as Anderson realised just how damaging this could be to the HSA. Ever since the Geth had been unleashed on the galaxy, AIs had been outlawed in Council Space. If humanity broke that law and word about it would reach the Citadel Council, the consequences would be severe. "Now we are faced with the very real possibility that one of the people involved with the program will reveal just what they were doing on Sidon to the rest of the galaxy.

The ambassador paused for a moment.

"Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders left the base three hours before it was attacked and the head of the project remains missing. Either she betrayed the HSA, told the mercenaries what to look for and made a run for it or maybe she just barely escaped with her life for unknown reasons. We don't know yet," The first idea wasn't exactly new to Anderson. Master Chief Rico had already voiced his concerns that Sanders, who had departed from Sidon without proper authorization shortly before the distress signal had been activated, was the insider who had assisted the attackers by granting them access to the research facility. However the notion that the missing Lieutenant had survived for another reason was something he hadn't heard before. "But we do know that she's somewhere in New Illyria and right now she's may be the only person to know what happened on Sidon. You'll be send to retrieve her."

Anderson did well to hide his surprise. This didn't feel like the type of mission given to an N7. It felt like the type of mission Section 13 would receive. Yet orders were still orders. He wouldn't question the reasons for being picked to complete it. He would simply do his hardest to ensure its success.

"What about Qian?" Anderson asked. While the evidence was stacked against Sanders, the head of the research program was missing as well and he needed to figure out if he was supposed to find him as well. "Maybe they worked together. Am I going to be sent after him as well?"

"Someone else is taking care of Doctor Shu Qian, your priority is Lieutenant Sanders," Anita Goyle replied, avoiding to name the 'someone else'.

"Understood," the N7 said as he prepared to get up before a question lingering in his head urged him to stay seated. "Why me?"

"I told you that I've heard of you before, haven't I?" the woman reminded him.

"Yes, but you didn't explain how," the N7 replied as leaned forward, resting his arms on the ambassador's desk.

"Then allow me to," Goyle began. "You are one of several N7 and ASOC operatives who have been listed as potential candidates to try out for the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel Council," she explained, "as the human ambassador on the Citadel, I was part of the committee tasked with finding a suitable, final candidate. You're still in consideration."

"So this is some sort of test then." Anderson reasoned. "You're putting me on this to figure out if I'm your final candidate."

"Yes and no. The more people we pull into this matter, the more likely it is that words gets out," the ambassador said. "While this assignment will certainly be considered once we pick a final candidate, we wouldn't put something as important as this on you simply for the sake of testing you. We're sending you after Sanders because we need to limit the number of people who know of this event and you're qualified for her retrieval."

He understood the concept. The more people knew of a secret, the more likely it was that someone who couldn't keep quiet was involved. Why the HSA didn't put Section 13 on the job was not Anderson's place to question. He'd do as he was told to.

"Your gear has been moved to the Iwo Jima, she'll take you to Elysium once you're done here."

"A stealth frigate?" Anderson asked confused. The Iwo Jima was one of the two long-range reconnaissance vessels of the navy, capable of traveling with a very low profile. The crews of these two crafts were notorious for their ability to keep their mouth shut. It made sense that they'd be put to the task. They didn't ask many questions and could get the job done without drawing more than the bare minimum of attention.

"She's docked in Bay D24. You'll travel to Elysium under the guise of shore leave and locate Lieutenant Sanders. Once you find her, bring her back to the Citadel," Goyle ordered.

"What about my squad?" he said as he noticed that the blonde woman had yet to mention any other N7s.

"The less people we sent, the lower the profile."

"So I'm going in alone then?" Anderson asked. He didn't like the idea of a one-man operation. As an N7 he was used to being part of a team.

"I'm afraid so," Goyle smiled. "The Iwo Jima is waiting for you, Lieutenant Anderson. You're dismissed. Good luck."

Anderson nodded and got up. Duty called and he'd answer even if he didn't like the terms.

* * *

 **Early 2138 CE, Elysium, Outskirts of New Illyria**

Locating Skarr on the human colony had been rather easy. Granted finding a krogan wasn't exactly hard if one knew where to look, places selling hard alcohol in rough neigbourhoods were always good points to start. The large, red-plated bounty hunter, who was big even by krogan standards, towered over the bar as he downed another one of the human beverages, unimpressed by its effect but blissfully unaware of the Spectre following his every step. The trip had given him enough time to read up on Skarr and Saren exactly hadn't been happy with what he had found out about the krogan.

Skarr had been exiled by his own clan after murdering a scouting party in a fit of rage, a krogan deemed so violent that even other krogan considered him too unhinged to be kept around was always bad news. Adding to this worrying fact came the number of contracts Skarr had failed to complete in his three decades of activity, none. The bounty hunter had a seemingly perfect track records. Whether it came from his abilities, his persistency or the fact that he only ever took on jobs he knew he could complete without difficulty wasn't something Saren could judge at the moment and if it was up to the turian, Skarr wouldn't get the chance to proof his abilities.

If it was up to Saren he would end it right here. The krogan was distracted and unarmed and as a Spectre he could simply walk up to him, put a hole in his head and walk away.

The Carnifex on Saren's hip was the descendent of a design first used during the Krogan Rebellions. The pistol's ancestor had been issued to turian soldiers to give them a sidearm that could actually kill a krogan and as such a series of shots from the heavy pistol would put an end to the unsuspecting Skarr, the firepower of the gun would ensure that neither his barriers nor any hidden shields could save him when his time came.

But he wouldn't do it yet since the Spectre needed Skarr to lead him to whoever he was after. It was the fastest way to find out who Edan Had'dah wanted to silence and as such who could give Saren a hand in ruining the batarian aristocrat's plan. The patient hunter succeeded, that's what Blackwatch thought him, and as such he'd be patient. He kept his eyes on Skarr as the krogan paid for his drinks before rising from the chair, a small purple field dispersing from underneath him explaining just how the little wooden object had managed to stand up to the massive reptile's weight.

As Skarr walked through a less crowded part of the bar, Saren spotted the outlines of a small metal dagger stuffed into the krogan's brown pants. The knife was hidden inside the armor-like fabric krogan wore as casual wear, its thick cloth doing well to disguise the knife's shape to most observers. Considering the small size of the blade, Saren figured that Skarr had either bought it on Elysium, stolen it from a local criminal or smuggled it through the spaceport security in one way or another. Apparently the krogan biotic hadn't been comfortable with abandoning all of his weapons. While Saren himself had been able to walk through the checkpoint in full gear thanks to his Spectre status, Skarr had to arrive seemingly unarmed and unarmored or risk clashing with the military personal manning the spaceport. He would have to keep his distance if possible. A normal krogan in close quarters was dangerous enough, an armed and biotic one was a challenge Saren would've liked to avoid unless pushed into a corner.

Skarr walked out of the bar he had called his home for the last hour and the Spectre followed him with some distance as the two headed away from the busier parts of the town. He knew that Skarr hadn't completed his contract yet, there had been no reports of a violent murder in the time he had gotten here and if his research had indicated anything it was that Skarr always turned his bounties into a violent murder eventually.

After walking for some time Saren trailed the krogan into a residential area, the lack of a crowd forcing the turian to give the bounty hunter more space. There was hardly any cover out here and the only thing Skarr needed to do in order to spot him was to turn around. As such he allowed the krogan a few minutes of a head start, stalking him from a series of hills located opposite to the road he was walking along.

Then the krogan took a sharp turn, vanishing behind a series of trees.

He couldn't have spotted Saren, could he? No. The krogan hadn't turned around once ever since they had left the bar. There was no way he could've made him. Something else had caused Skarr to dive into the small forest.

From his position in the hills the Spectre waited for the krogan to appear again and soon enough he saw the hulking reptile climb into the backyard of a relatively big property. A white house was occupying roughly a fourth of the fenced area and considering its size, it belonged to a rather rich person. Yet it also looked decisively empty. No lights were turned on and no cars were parked in its drive way. He saw the krogan walk towards a backdoor, moving surprisingly stealthy given his size. Then the krogan forced open the backdoor and Saren waited for a moment, questions rushing through his mind.

Was Skarr planning on waiting for his target to arrive?

Was he going to break his pattern of simply murdering whoever he was sent after in a brutal fashion and work on a stealthier approach?

Was this even the house of the target or was it the bounty hunters hideout?

All of those questions turned irrelevant as Saren heard gunshots echo from within the building, causing him to sprint towards it, pulling his trusty Phaeston from his back as he took a running jump over the fence and towards the property, light now shining through one of the windows as pistol fire became audible to the Spectre.

Property damage was better than dying.

The Spectre pushed his feet off the ground and found himself crashing through the window, throwing shards glass through the room in the process, Skarr's back turned towards him.

* * *

 **Forty Minutes Earlier, 10. January 2396 AD, Elysium, Outskirts of New Illyria**

David Anderson stood in front of the big, white house and looked around himself. It was a peaceful neighbourhood, the kind of home he wished he had grown up in. It was nothing like the apartment in the London metropolitan area that had served as his childhood home. It was quiet, roomy and silent. It was the kind of place he had envisioned for himself and his soon to be ex-wife Cynthia, he had always pictured them retiring to a colony world with lots of space once he got out of N7. The fact that she wanted to divorce because he was hardly around had torched all those plans. There was no point in a big house if there was no one to share it with.

He had received a report that pinpointed Sanders location to this home and as he looked at the doorbell, a somewhat beaten plastic shield spelling out her last name, he understood why they believed she'd be here. When pushed into a corner people tended to go to places they were familiar with. A childhood home was such a place. Anderson opted for the polite approach, at least as polite as an onyx black, armored military officer standing on front of your door in the dead of night could appear.

He rang the doorbell and then he waited.

A minute later the door creaked open to reveal an eldery woman standing in the door way. Her blonde hair was already greying and her blue eyes had aged but the resemblance to the person he was trying to locate was there. Sanders most certainly looked like a younger version of this person.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he began politely. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, you're not. How can I help you?" the woman asked, seemingly unimpressed by his getup. If she had lived through the martial law of Elysium, she was used to people in combat gear walking around these streets.

"My name is Staff Lieutenant David Anderson, I'm looking for Kahlee Sanders."

"Well, you came to the wrong place then. She's not here," the woman muttered. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Can I come in for a moment, if it's not too much of a hassle?" Anderson wasn't quite convinced of that just yet. He'd take a look around.

She hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the doorway. "Of course. Can't have you standing outside at this time of the day. Come in."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

As he walked into the house he notice several pictures hanging on the wall, some of them dating back to before the Fringe Wars, a happy family of three smiling at the camera, the white house visible in the background. One person was obviously the woman in front of him, the other a blonde man with piercing blue eyes and the third a young girl, most likely their daughter, sharing the features of her parents.

The Lieutenant took an educated guess.

"Are you Kahlee's mother?"

"What gave me away? Was it the name on the doorbell?" the woman joked. "Or perhaps the pictures?"

Anderson smiled before he came to a halt in the hall between the living room and the doorway as he spotted a framed medal sitting on a small table next to an electric candle and a framed picture. It's red and green band was connected to a golden star that depicted the HSA's sigil and motto, a golden eagle protectively folding his wings around an empty globe with two words, a promise, engraved below it.

A Star of Valour.

The highest commendation any member of the HSA's armed forces and HSAIS could be bestowed with. It was awarded for couragous and distinguished service in face of insurmountable odds, only a handful of them had ever been awarded outside of the Fringe Wars and even the biggest conflict in human history had only managed to produce a couple of hundred, mostly posthumous, recipients. As he looked at the picture of a bald man, it dawned on him.

"Jon Grissom," he spoke. "He was your husband?"

"Yes."

"And Kahlee's father?"

"Obviously," the woman said with a tone of sadness in her voice. Anderson hated to open an old wound but he had to know.

"Why not take his last name?"

"He knew it may make us a target," the woman said. "Given how famous he got after he died, he was right."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ma'am," he knew he was over a decade late but it was still basic courtesy.

"Don't be. You played no part in his death. He died fighting for what he believed," she spoke in a sad demeanor, "that's more than most people can claim."

He nodded respectfully.

"Why are you looking for my daughter?" she asked.

"She might be in danger," it wasn't technically a lie. At least that's what he told himself to keep his conscious clean. "I'm looking for her to make sure nothing happens to her."

"She came by a few days ago," the woman admitted. "Said someone would come looking for her. I told her to head for the Terminus, away from HSA territories and whoever was hunting her. The obscurity of the region is the best deterrent you can ask for. It's a fantastic place to disappear to."

If she made it to the Terminus, they'd never find her. Yet Anderson still had the feeling that the woman wasn't telling the whole truth.

"That's strange advice coming from a mother," Anderson noted. "Sounds more like the thing you'd tell a spy on the run."

"How do you think I met Jon?" the woman chuckled. "I spent years of my life as a threat analyst for HSAIS."

That explained the advice she had given to Kahlee.

It also explained the glint of the silver commendation for exemplary service for one 'Rosemary Sanders' hanging on the wall above the small, makeshift shrine dedicated to Jon Grissom.

"If there's nothing else, Lieutenant, I'd like to go to bed now," the woman spoke. "It's been a long day."

"Of course," Anderson's mouth said while his gut told him to hang around. He'd find a place to hunker down. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs. Sanders."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry you didn't find what you were looking for," the woman said as she let him to the door. "I suggest you let it go. Have a good night, Lieutenant Anderson."

"You too."

The door closed itself and Anderson scanned his surroundings again. The property was large and surrounded by several hills, one other house on its eastern side and a large wall of tress in the north and west.

The forest would do.

He saw the lights turn off in the Sanders residence and jogged towards the woods that would serve as his home for the time being. His gut told him to stay and listening to his gut had allowed him to survive well over a decade of N7 service. The special forces officer found a spot overlooking both the front entry and the backside of the property before lying down, waiting and watching as the minutes blended together. He forced himself to stay focus, look for a little sign that would betray Lieutenant Sanders presence in the building, a flicker of light betraying another silhouette, the faint sound of two voices, anything that would give him a reason to come back.

Then he noticed a big, obviously krogan form walking on the road behind the backside of the property. When the reptile made the faintest step into the direction of the Sanders house, it wasn't what he had looked for but it got him moving either way. Krogan were usually bad news. As he got moving, he saw the figure trespass into the yard behind the white building.

He rushed across the empty street as he banged against the front door, frantically knocking against it until he could no longer afford politeness. Anderson threw himself against the wooden door and found it to be surprisingly sturdy, forcing him to repeatedly bang his shoulder into it before it broke out of the frame.

Then he heard another door being closed in the back of the house while footsteps hit the ceiling above him before a woman with a SIS-8 in her hand running down the stairs and looking at him in a mix of anger and confusion.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked as Anderson ignored her, a red-plated krogan suddenly appearing in front of him, a murderous smile on his face. He raised his Kassa Fabrication M-83 and began to squeeze the trigger, but he didn't have enough time. The bullets were deflected by a purple field and he felt himself smashed aside, several gunshots and the nasty sound of a blade cutting through flesh hitting his ears before he even hit the ground. That krogan was fast.

'Get up,' a voice ordered him as he grabbed his own pistol, firing bullets in the krogan's back. The reptile was now holding Mrs. Sanders by her throat, a cut running down her dominant arm and a pistol lying on the stairway. His actions achieved nothing but a glare from the krogan who dropped the woman to the ground before turning around, a small blade in his hand.

"Heh. You first then," the red-plated reptile grunted as he shrugged of the pistol bullets through the use of biotics. He was about to grab Anderson when the sound of glass shattering and a white, purple blur rushing through the corridor behind him caught his attention.

What happened next was best described as an incredibly quick, incredibly brutal clash of two impressive forces.

In a matter of seconds a turian in white armor smashed into the krogan, firing an assault rifle at him from point blank range all the while glowing with biotics as his armored talon pushed the surprised krogan into the wall. His white face was the embodiment of fury and as the krogan forced the turian off himself, causing Anderson's saviour to lose grip of his assault rifle, the white figure pulled a boxy pistol from his hip before leveling its barrel at the krogan's head. The red-plated reptile only barely managed to save himself from a fatal headshot by smacking the gun aside moments before the turian managed to pull the trigger, causing the round to graze his face. He slashed at the turian with his knife before launching the white-armored figure into the opposing wall, while a stream of orange blood rushed trickled the krogan's face.

Looking at the blue blood dripping from the turian's mouth, Anderson lost hope. He was probably a goner. That blow had been powerful, the turian should've been dead.

But he wasn't. The biotic attack didn't stop him, it made him even angrier. From his position inside the wall, he thrusted his hand at the krogan as purple ripples threw the reptile back, giving him enough time to grab the pistol, a series of gunshots following this action as rounds began hitting the krogan's chest with deadly accuracy. The turian got up as he kept firing until a backhanded blow forced him to duck. Using this moment, the krogan followed his punch up with a hefty kick to the turian's white chest, a kick that once more sent their unexpected ally flying into the wall. The N7 stumbled to his feet and tried to get a shot at the krogan in an attempt to draw his attention away from the turian and give him some time to get up but before he could do that, he saw something he hadn't expected to see in his lifetime.

A krogan running away from a fight.

Instead of opting to fight the turian who was already on his feet again, the toad-like creature surrounded himself with a purple field as he turned his back to them. He launched himself into a sprint as orange blood stained the floor in his wake. Anderson chose to exploit the situation and began to fire his pistol into the assailant's back before he vanished into the darkness, a painful grunt following several of his rounds as they hit their mark.

"The woman," the turian groaned at him as he reached for Anderson's weapon, causing the N7 to stop shooting.. "Take care of the woman."

"I'm fine," Rosemary Sanders replied from the stairs before he could even reach for his medical supplies. An empty syringe of medigel fell to the floor as both Anderson and the turian turned towards her. The woman had been prepared. "Who the hell was that?"

"Skarr," the turian answered. "Krogan bounty hunter. He's after you.""

"He's not after her," Anderson said, causing the turian to look at him.

"Then why would he come here?"

"He's after me," a voice coming from the stairway declared.

As Anderson looked up he spotted Kahlee Sanders. His gut had once more been right.

"You'll have to leave, Skarr will come back for you," the flanging voice of the white turian explained as he looked at the new arrival. "I can help you get of this world but first you have to tell me why he was after you."

"I don't even know who you are," Sanders replied as she walked down the stairs, exchanging a look with her mother.

"Saren Arterius," the turian introduced himself as he folded his assault rifle and locked it in place on his back, groaning in the process, "Agent of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel Council."

"Lieutenant Sanders," Anderson said as he stepped next to Saren, he didn't even want to know why a Spectre was on Elysium but he wouldn't let him pull his target from underneath him. "My name is Staff Lieutenant David Anderson, I'm with N7 and Ambassador Goyle ordered me to bring you in."

"I figured," the blonde woman replied as she walked down the stairs. "You're here because you want to know what happened on Sidon."

Anderson nodded. "You have to come with me. Right now."

"She has to come with me," the Spectre challenged Anderson as he rolled his shoulders. "For her own safety."

"She's a human and falls under HSA jurisdiction," David began, a painful stinging in his own shoulder becoming evident to him as Saren's movements reminded him of his own injuries. "She's coming with me."

"As a Spectre, I'm above jurisdiction," Saren countered in an insisting tone. "She's coming with me."

"I can't let her go with you," Anderson said as he stepped closer to the turian. Spectre or not, he couldn't let Sanders leave. Even if it meant going blow for blow with the turian.

"You will have to," the Spectre grunted as he too took a step towards Anderson, causing both of them to clutch their fists, tension rising in the room.

"Before you knuckleheads go for each others throats," Kahlee injected, causing them to turn towards her as she picked up one of the pictures that had fallen from the wall while inspecting its frame, "why don't you stop for a minute and figure out where you want to take me in the first place. Your answers might surprise you."

"The Citadel," both Saren and Anderson spoke in unison before looking at each other in surprise. In retrospective it had been obvious, at least to Anderson himself. Of course a Spectre would bring her to the Citadel and if Goyle had sent him to retrieve her, it was obvious where he'd take her. The fight must've knocked the sense out of both himself and the Spectre, luckily Sanders had talked it back into them.

"Next time try finding common ground before you beat up your allies," Kahlee sighed as she picked up the broken frame of Grissom's picture before making her way towards the stairs. "I'll grab my stuff and we can head out."

"You should stay here Kahlee," her mother argued as she grabbed a hold of her daughter's wrist on her way up.

"I'm not going to put you into the line of fire again, mom. It's best if you go someplace else for the time being."

"I can take care of myself, Kahlee."

"Mom, please, this is my choice," the lieutenant spoke, causing her mother to let go of her wrist before she once more walked up the stairs. "I'll be right down," she called on her way up. "Please, don't break anything else while I'm gone."

"Apologies for destroying your wall," the turian turned towards the older Sanders as they waited, looking as embarrassed as his current situation allowed him to, "and your window. And your pictures."

"The door was open," the woman sighed as she pinched her nose. "Did you even try to see if it was open?"

"There was no time," Saren replied in an awkward tone. "I'll take care of any repai-"

"I'm just messing with you," she chuckled in spite of the situation. "I think we all owe you for saving us from Skarr," she said as she looked at Anderson.

He knew what this was. It was his opportunity to put an end to the beginning hostilities between himself and the turian.

He took it.

"She's right. Thank you," he said as he extended a hand to the turian. Time to burry the emerging hatchet before it did any harm.

"There is no need to thank me for doing my job," the Spectre grabbed a hold of the onyx glove, his own white armor standing in stark contrast to the material of Anderson's protective gear. It was almost poetic.

"I'm ready," the younger Sanders said as she came down again, a bag slung over her shoulder. "How are we getting to the Citadel?" she said as she looked at the two.

"Need a lift to the Citadel?" Anderson smirked at Saren.

* * *

 _Codex: Artificial Intelligence Ban_

 _Before the Geth War AIs had played an important role in everyday life. Much more capable than the virtual intelligence programs, VIs, in use today, they influenced all walks of life by taking on administrative duties, assisting militaries, conducting research and operating entire mining operations. They were incredibly beneficial to the galactic community and widely appreciated._

 _In most cases at least._

 _Virtually every civilization has experienced at least one nearly catastrophic event caused by a rogue AI. Whether the case of Tallaris, an AI that forced the Asari Republics to destroy an entire developing colony shorty before the Rachni Wars, an artificial intelligence created by the Vol Protectorate hijacking the communication network of an entire colony before overloading its power grid, only being stopped from injecting itself into the galactic financial market by another, sane AI, or a salarian program sending billions of friend invites across social networks of the extranet while attempting to ram a cruiser into the Presidium Ring, there had always been concerns that synthetic and organic life struggled to coexist due to their vastly different nature._

 _These concerns had largely been dismissed as rare exceptions until the Geth War had resulted in the quarian mass exodus of Rannoch, setting of a series of events fueled by fear that resulted in a decision that would change the course of galactic history forever._

 _Enacted in 1896 CE, the same year the Migrant Fleet launched of their home world, surrendering Rannoch to their own creation, the Citadel Council reacted to the threat posed by artificial intelligence in the harshest of ways. While the Geth Consensus hadn't been the first case of an Artificial intelligence turning against a creator, it had been the by far most severe one. Cases such as Tallaris had been mere drops filling a barrel of concern, the death of billions of quarian citizens at the hands of an AI rebellion had been a tidal wave of blood, crushing the barrel without mercy._

 _Following the ban, AIs across Council Space were shut down in what artificial intelligence advocates call a 'synthetic genocide of unparalleled scale'._

 _The races of the galaxy were plunged into an administrative nightmare as the replacement VIs failed to perform the duties of their now 'dead', more sophisticated brethren. This crisis would last until 1898 CE when enough virtual programs had been produced to carry the massive workload left in the wake of the AI ban._

 _The ban however included an exception. Selected research institutes and corporations, nowadays numbering at four, were licensed to develop and use AIs for research purposes. This was done due to the fact that no VI could ever fill the role AIs had taken in the scientific community._

 _Furthermore the ban did not simply blink AIs out of existence. Throughout the centuries since their ban, dozens of AIs have been discovered in Council Space and their creators have faced fines, prison time or lifetime exclusion out of their respective communities. The ban failed to purge the idea of creating an AI from galactic society and while not confirmed, it is believed that many groups keep tinkering with experimental artificial intelligences due to the potential they hold._

* * *

 **A/N: Chapter 26. Exactly seven days after the last one. I really wanted to get it out yesterday but it kind of didn't work ( by that I mean I was a lazy fuck and only started writing on thursday).**

 **Now my aim is to get to chapter 30 by July, which as you may recall is the month I'm shipping out to basic training. If you didn't recall, here's the reminder, I'm starting basic training in July which of course means that updates are gonna go down the drain from there on. I'll try to get as much done before that as I can and as of right now I've completed my list of Semper Vigilo's basic story line and important plotpoints and looking over them I realised something...**

 **This thing here is gonna take a reaaaaly long time and if I manage to get what's in my head on the paper, it's gonna be pretty dope.**

 **Back to my Chapter 26 troubles.**

 **Given the fact that Section 13 is a thing in Semper Vigilo, I had a reaaaly hard time coming up with a reason why the hell they'd sent an N7 to do their work but I've got one, stay tuned and you'll see. I think it makes as much sense as it can really. Revelation, since I never read the book, is going to be somewhat harder to write than the rest but I think I got the hardest part done.**

 **So.** **Let me know what you think, personally this isn't exactly my favorite chapter but I couldn't just skip over it. So yeaaah... I know it's not bad, I just don't think it's good but as I said, we had to do it. Hopefully you enjoyed.**

 **For the record we're at 193 Reviews, 392 favorites and 477 follows. I'd really like to break 400 favorites and 500 follows before July, if that happens remains to be seen.**

 **Now give me my review fix. I need it, that's my poison and you know it.**

 **See you around next time.**


	27. Live Bait

**Chapter 27. Live Bait**

* * *

 **Early 2138 CE, HSASV Iwo Jima, Enroute to the Citadel**

A few months ago Saren Arterius, Spectre of the Citadel Council, had been tasked with investigating a band of thieves stealing form C-SEC and figuring out how a batarian Eezo supplier based on Camala was connected to the case. He had completed that task. Normally he would've already been well on his way back to the station days before but the revelation that Had'dah was actively trying to harm the Citadel Council had shifted his priorities and the perimeters of his mission. Originally he was supposed to find conclusive evidence against Had'dah Enterprises. Now he was tasked with putting an end to Had'dah's schemes before he could hurt more people. A threat to the body he was sworn to protect was far more serious than theft.

The new perimeters had caused him to go after the lead a security officer by the name of Groto Ib-ba had given him. A krogan bounty hunter named Skarr, an exiled battlemaster renowned for his brutality and efficiency, had been ordered to kill someone on Elysium in an attempt to clean up after a failed mission to cover the tracks of his employer. Any mistake Had'dah had made would be an advantage Saren could, should and would exploit. As such he had tracked the krogan to the home of one Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders and stopped his attempt on her life with the help of another human, David Anderson, who in turn had been ordered to bring the woman in. After an initial disagreement on who should take her, both had realised that they wanted to take Lieutenant Sanders to the Citadel, leading to the turian hitching a ride on a human frigate.

Now he needed to learn why Had'dah wanted Sanders silenced, something he hadn't managed up to now. It was crucial information needed for his next step. Depending on what she told him, he could figure out what the batarian was planning.

"Lieutenant Sanders?" he asked after he intercepted the woman once the N7 soldier had parted ways with her. She turned to look at the much taller turian standing in the corridor to her left. "Do you have a minute?"

"For another 'interview'?" she sighed exhausted as she looked into the direction Anderson had disappeared to. "I just got out of one interrogation."

He was aware of that. He had used the fact that he had been left mostly unsupervised to lurk in these halls ever since she had set foot inside the CIC. The woman had been inside the room for the last few hours, he understood why Sanders was aggravated. However that didn't change the fact that he had to know why Edan Had'dah would send a bounty hunter after her. Once he learned her role in things, he would know how to use her to bring down the batarian and in turn be able to complete this mission.

"I just need to know why Skarr was after you. That's all."

"I'd love to tell you but I have no idea," the human replied as she began to walk, forcing Saren to match her step.

"You mentioned Sidon when the N7 asked you to come with him," Saren remembered. The planet was located in the same system as Elysium and from what he had gathered up to now, the lieutenant had worked there. While the exact purpose of the base located on the world was unknown to him, he had learned that it was a research facility for classified projects. "You worked there?"

"For a time, yes," she said.

"I'd like to know if anything you did on Sidon is related to Had'dah Enterprises. If there was any reason why Edan Had'dah would sent a krogan bounty hunter after you," Saren knew he wouldn't learn any details about her job but he didn't ask for them. He only needed to know what Had'dah's interest in Sidon was.

"The only connection between Sidon and that company would be Elemt Zero," she replied as they took a turn around the corner. His time was running out, the crew quarters were coming closer with every step and he already had his suspicion that their conversation would end there.

Why would an Eezo supplier, a batarian one at that, be linked to a secretive human research base? He was skeptical of the person in front of him. He could usually tell when people were trying to keep something form him but for some reason this particular human was almost unreadable to him. She shouldn't have been. Humans and asari shared the same basic facial expressions and Saren had taken care to study the usual clues across the species of the galaxy, it had come in handy during his missions. He was by no means an expert but he had had some practice in the past. Yet something about the lieutenant made it difficult to tell if she was speaking the truth or not.

"What do you mean by that?" Saren asked as the woman stopped in front of the crew quarters to look at him.

"The facility on Sidon was tasked with researching human biotics. I don't think I have to explain the connection between biotic powers and Element Zero to a biotic," she muttered as she pointed at him before pinching her nose, "and frankly, I'm too tired to do it either way."

"We can help each other, Lieutenant Sanders," he promised, trying to ignore his growing frustration. Falling for sarcasm really made him question if his ability to read people was based around pointing a gun at them.

"Can we?" she replied skeptically.

"Yes," he knew that it was not exactly true but he still had to try. "You just have to tell me why Skarr was sent after you. What were you doing on Sidon that would draw Had'dah's attention?"

"I appreciate that you saved my life, Agent Arterius. I really do, but right now there is nothing else you can do for me," she said as she stepped inside the crew quarters preparing to close the door between herself and Saren and leaving the Spectre no wiser than before, "and I can't tell you anything more about Sidon," she shrugged as the grey metal of the doors slit between himself and the woman.

Maybe it was time for a different approach. Bargaining hadn't worked, maybe pleading would.

"Spirits, there are lives at stake, Lieutenant," he called as his voice echoed through the corridors of the frigate with a hint of urgency. "Lives I will be able to save if you tell me what I need to know. I'm not trying to steal your people's secrets, I'm trying to stop a madman!"

The door remained close. She probably hadn't heard him either way.

A frustrated growl escaped the turian's mouth and he pushed the idea of simply breaking down the door and finding out what he needed to know back into the small corner it of his mind it had escaped from before even considering to act on it. Saren wasn't used to interrogating someone who wasn't an enemy and usually his allies were more cooperative. This wasn't a usual situation.

He needed to figure out the connection between Sanders, Sidon and Had'dah Enterprises and he needed to do it quick. Every minute he spent in the dark was a minute Edan Had'dah was getting further ahead in his plan. If he no longer considered attacking embassies on the Citadel as his main priority, Saren wasn't sure if he wanted to know what the rich entrepreneur was planning to do, he only knew that he had to prevent it at all costs. As he turned to leave, the door behind opened again, a blonde woman with a guilty expression looking up to him as he halted his step and turned his head.

"I can't tell you what you need to know. I wish I could but I can't. Not yet," Sanders admitted. "Once we're on the Citadel and once I've spoken to the ambassador, I might be able to answer your questions but until I have that talk, I can't speak to you, I'm sorry."

"Might?" he picked out the detail relevant to his mission.

"It's all I can give you and I know it's far from satisfactory," she said as she looked at the ground, "but for now a 'might' will have to do."

It was better than outright refusal. He nodded his thanks before the door closed once more, leaving him a bit less troubled but still unsatisfied. The lieutenant had proven to possess a sense of morale but as with many soldiers, her sense of duty prevented her from telling Saren what he needed to know. The turian in Saren respected that, the soldier in Saren would've done the same but the Spectre in him was far from happy with it. He knew she understood his insistence, if she didn't, she wouldn't have stopped him but the part of her that wanted to tell him was outweighed by the part of her that was aware of her duties. Saren needed to work this out of his system and as he spotted a door his translator labeled as 'training room', he knew exactly how.

* * *

 **12\. January 2396 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy**

The vessel had docked and much to Anderson's surprised, the turian Spectre had not gone straight to the Council but instead followed them to the embassy area under the premise of still having business there. As a Spectre, they could hardly tell him to get lost and as such one Saren Arterius was now waiting outside the building. Glancing through the window as they, Anderson himself, Lieutenant Sanders and two guards, walked through the building housing humanity's link to the Citadel Council, he saw the white figure sitting in the yard in front of the embassy, looking at them as they passed by, making him curious as to how this business might be linked to the suspiciously silent Sanders on his left. An officer of the Iwo Jima had told him that Sanders and the Spectre had talked once aboard the frigate and the N7 suspected that his business in the embassy area was with no other than the woman he had been ordered to bring here.

While the N7 had considered the reason for Saren Arterius's presence, the group had made their way to their final destination. The door to the office he had received his orders in opened and much to his surprise, Ambassador Goyle was not the only person in the room. While she set at her desk, indulged in her work, Anderson noticed the other, uniformed, brown haired man in the room. He was clad in a black uniform and a single, red dagger emblem was sown to his uniform. His head was turned towards the blonde woman as he watched her work from his position in a chair opposite to her, idly rotating a few degrees to the left and back to the right at a steady rhythm.

Section 13.

"There they are," the man spun around in the chair and a surprisingly friendly face looked at Lieutenant Anderson, grey eyes mustering him and the people accompanying him as they stepped into the room. "Told you it wasn't worth starting to work," he chuckled as he got up and faced the guards that had accompanied them. "Thank you, Corporal. You're dismissed."

He had never worked alongside someone like the man standing in front of him but he had heard the rumors about their training, the stories about some of their missions and the description of the type of person they were. The man standing in front of him did not match the picture Anderson had drawn at first glance. While he had certainly been in quite a few rough fights, several scars proving that much, he was nothing like the detached, professional the N7 expected a specialist to be. He had always pictured a bulky killing machine with a shaved head, a grim expression and more medals than he could count. What he got made far more sense. This man, bearing a few details and an incredibly rare eye colour, looked like the average man in his late thirties. He seemed easy going and looked like a generally friendly person. Considering the fact that specialists were still spies who had to blend in, his appearance made a whole lot of sense.

"Lieutenant Sanders, Staff Lieutenant Anderson," he greeted them before his expression grew more serious. Anderson had been under the impression that Sanders was supposed to talk to the ambassador, not a specialist.

"Shepard," the woman next to him nodded in return. "Your extraction wrecked my parent's house."

"I'm glad to see you in one piece," he offered.

"Can't say that for the rest of Sidon's staff," the woman muttered sadly.

The N7 officer was at a loss. He had been under the impression that the lieutenant would be treated as a suspect but as far as he could tell right now, none of that was happening. It seemed like Kahlee Sanders wasn't considered to be a traitor but an informant. Anderson knew when he was missing a crucial detail and right about now he was missing more than just one.

"I'm sad to see your suspicion confirmed," the specialist who was apparently called Shepard said, shaking his head before looking at the confused face of Anderson. "You weren't told, were you?" he asked with a sympathetic tone.

He shook his head, "I'm afraid that I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Four days before the attack on Sidon, Lieutenant Sanders voiced her concerns about the loyalty of Doctor Qian to HSAIS. They didn't make it a priority at first but when Section 13 learned the details, we did," the man explained as he looked at Sanders. "Do you want to fill him in on the rest or should I keep going?"

"Doctor Qian grew obsessed with a private project. An old, alien artifact that was sent to him from an unknown source and he began to study it. We don't know where it came from or what it was. As the chief scientist of the facility, he could request all kinds of things but as rumor had it, whatever he had shipped to him predated even the protheans," Sanders sighed as she looked at Anderson. "His position allowed him access to every part of the facility and the authority to delete all data stored on its servers. He wiped the delivery of the record the moment he learned it had arrived." In retrospective it was easy for the N7 officer to say that giving Qian that kind of power had been plain stupid considering its results but given the purpose of Sidon's research facility, it had probably made sense to give the leading scientist the ability to scorch the earth at a moments notice when the decision had been made.

"He studied it for a few days and then one of his episodes began," she went on with her story. "He started disappearing for hours at a time, shifting resources meant for the AI research over to his project and banning all staff members from the sublevel of the base. He didn't let anyone else help him and he told no one what he was doing but as he kept the base running so we turned a blind eye on his behaviour," Sanders tone grew more resigned, "He had been like this before so most of us didn't think anything off it at first. Qian had these phases of antisocial behaviour once in a while but usually his antics stopped after a few days and were followed by a big breakthrough in the project," she paused for a moment, taking a breath as she explained why Sidon's staff didn't act earlier. "That didn't happen this time. His behaviour went on for nearly two weeks and he became more occupied with whatever he was studying down there every day. It was starting to hurt the project, so I made a judgment call as chief of the technical staff and ranking military officer on site. I looked into Qian's personal terminal and found out that he had been sending unauthorized messages to a third party through the use of a secret relay station he had been building with the parts siphoned from the project's resources. He was transmitting to someone outside of human territories. The implications were obvious."

"So you reported it to HASIS," Anderson figured, receiving a nod from Sanders. "Why not arrest him on the spot?"

"We had to figure out who he was working for," Shepard injected. "I told her to keep a low profile and stay quiet about her discovery until we had a lock on his partner. If Qian suspected that we were onto him, we never would've gotten the chance to go after the thrd party."

"A decision that got a lot of people killed," Sanders eyes narrowed.

"Section 13 decided to exfiltrate Lieutenant Sanders quietly, hence the AWOL in the doctor's notes," the specialist explained. "We had to get her off world without Qian getting wind of it, he had to keep working after all. It was a lucky coincidence that we managed to get to the lieutenant before the batarian mercs attacked."

"They put me on Elysium to await retrieval from you," the lieutenant added, " and since they couldn't just put me on a regular frigate or into HSA custody, they put my mother into the crosshairs of Skarr."

"Doctor Qian is the traitor then," the N7 asked. "Was he the one who hired Skarr?"

"Most likely," Shepard replied. "We haven't been able to figure out who he was working with though."

"It wasn't Qian. It was a batarian," the blonde lieutenant quickly corrected him. "I think the turian Spectre figured out who Qian was working with some time ago," Sanders continued as the people in the room looked at her, " he just doesn't know what to do with the information because he isn't aware that Qian exists. He's been looking for Qian while we've been looking for his target."

"I think an explanation would be appreciated, Lieutenant," Goyle suggested from her desk.

"He approached me on the Iwo Jima, asking me why Edan Had'dah sent Skarr was after me and if there were any connections between Had'dah Enterprises and the facility on Sidon."

"The guy who owns that Eezo company on Camala?" the specialist asked. Anderson had heard of Camala before, it was one of the few batarian planets non-batarians could live on as long as they came from a non-Council world. Few humans had even considered going there because of rising tensions between the Batarian Hegemony and the Human Systems Alliance but others flocked to the planet with the Eezo promising them a rich future.

"Yes," Sanders replied. "I improvised, got sarcastic. I told Arterius that Sidon was researching human biotics and that the only connection would be Element Zero itself," Anderson was impressed by Sanders ability to exploit something like that at a moments notice and a faint smirk crossed his lips as a result.

"So Had'dah is Qian's contact," the Section 13 agent spoke. "The guy hates humans with a passion. Why would he be working with one? Hell, why would Qian sell out to a batarian of all people? His niece was killed in a battle with slavers four months ago, if anything he should be working against them."

"I don't know but as unreasonable as it sounds, it's the most likely explanation given what the Spectre said. It would explain the mercenaries that attacked the base, Had'dah Enterprises has private security," Sanders argued. "But there's something else you should know about the Spectre."

"Go ahead," the ambassador assured her as Anderson kept listening.

"He practically begged me to tell him why Had'dah would go after me, said that he needs the information to save lives. It sounded very urgent."

"You didn't tell him anything about Sidon, did you?" Goyle asked, slightly concerned.

"Of course not. I told him I might be able to give him what he needs after talking to you," Sanders said and as she noticed the frown of the ambassador, she went on. "I think he might be able to help us and if you're willing to hear me out, I can tell you how."

"Your instincts have been right up to now," the specialist reasoned. "I see no reason to doubt you."

"Arterius has one part of the puzzle, we have the other one. We might be able to help each other out," Sanders added. "If we tell him that Had'dah has been working with Qian, he will probably be willing to tag along."

"You're suggesting to levy his assistance," Shepard figured.

"Exactly," Sanders nodded as she looked at Anderson for assistance. "He's bound to have a network we could use to get to Qian. Not to mention that the batarians are never going to let a human ship frigate pass through their home mass relay. They'd turn us back at gunpoint the moment we drop out of the Harsa System. If a Spectre is on board they have no choice but to tolerate us as long as we don't set foot on Khar'shan."

It was true. The batarians had always been xenophobic, banning most species, slaves being the exception, from setting foot on their home world and core colonies while only rarely allowing council vessels to venture deep into their territory unannounced. The Batarian Hegemony had time and again closed its borders to the rest of the galaxy and in fact ever since becoming an associate of the CItadel Council, HSA ships, just like vessels of the Turian Hierarchy, had been banned from entering batarian space all together, a ban the later tended to ignore when their duties as peacekeepers allowed them to. They would never get permission to fly a military craft straight through their home system. True, the Iwo Jima was capable of a stealth approach and as such the Batarian Hegemony would have no idea where the frigate was headed once it passed through the relay but they would still notice its arrival and as such take action to a trespasser. If the ship was transporting a Spectre, they were simply forced to tolerate its usage of the Harsa Relay.

"I've seen him fight, his help could go a long way," the N7 added.

"He's still an agent of the Council and Sidon's activity are still illegal by their laws," the spy in the room reminded her. "If he gets wind of Qian's research, the HSA is in for a lot of trouble."

"If he gets wind," Goyle countered, emphasizing the first word. "Working alongside a Spectre is the first step on the road of becoming a Spectre. This could be a big step for humanity."

"Or throw us five steps back. We'd have to keep him in the dark," the specialist sighed, "and we can't guarantee that we'll be able to."

"We could always brand Qian as a rogue scientist acting on his own, have him take the fall for all of Sidon. Deniability was one of the contingency protocols in case of being discovered," Sanders said as Anderson looked at her with mild surprise, causing her to explain. "We knew what we were doing was illegal, don't act so surprised. It was Qian's own idea so it's only fitting that we employ it against him and the fact that he did actually go rogue adds a lot of credibility to the claim."

"It's risky," the specialist repeated his concerns.

"The chancellor's orders were clear, we've got to stop Qian by any means," Goyle argued.

"I know, I stood next to you when he told you that," Shepard replied," and I stood next to you when he gave you the authority to decide in situations such as this. It's your call."

Anderson had once more excluded himself from the discussion, silently considering what he had learned from listening. He hadn't been told everything about his mission and that bothered him. He didn't become an N7 to be kept in the dark. In fact the lieutenant considered the fact that N7s were usually told everything about the mission they'd embark on next to be one of the biggest advantages of the job. He understood the need to keep the circle of people included in this mess as small as possible but he didn't understand why they had withheld this piece of information from him before. It didn't sit well with him but holding a grudge wouldn't do him any good right now.

"We've got to get to Qian before he does anymore damage," the older blonde woman spoke. "We're at risk of being exposed as things are. Nothing is stopping Qian from talking the moment he spots us. The help of a Spectre who's after his partner might just prevent that from happening."

"So you're giving the green light?" Shepard asked.

"Lieutenant Sanders, you were the one he approached. Talk to him, tell him that Had'dah was working with a traitor among our ranks," Goyle decided. "Keep the details vague. Stick to the biotic story, improvise if you have to. Get us his help."

Then the woman turned towards him. The conversation had already made it clear that he'd tag along for more than just his skills. He was part of a political play. "Lieutenant Anderson, you'll join the Spectre and try to bring in the doctor. If you can't do that, ensure that Qian doesn't talk."

"By any means?" he asked.

"Do whatever you have to," the specialist replied for the ambassador. "If you can't bring him in, kill him."

He nodded firmly. Others may have worded in a different way, sugar coated what Anderson would have to do. This man didn't. He could respect that.

"The Iwo Jima will be at your service until this mess is over, Lieutenant Sanders you'll remain on the Citadel for the time being," Goyle spoke after nodding at the Section 13 agent. The change in Sanders expression told Anderson everything he needed to know.

"No. I'm seeing this through. I'm going with Anderson," Kahlee Sanders protested. She had guts, he had to give it to her. Of course refusing an order in this situation was completely out of line but it still took courage to do so.

"Lieutenant Sanders," the other woman spoke. "You're a technician, not an N7. Putting you in the field again would be putting you into unnecessary danger."

"No it wouldn't be."

"This matter isn't up to discussion, Lieutenant," the ambassador sighed. "You'll stay here until this matter is taken care of. For your own safety."

"How are you going to draw out Qian or Had'dah?"

Anderson didn't like where this was going and he knew it wasn't a good sign that a part of him considered this a viable approach. The look on the specialist's face told the N7 nothing but Anderson suspected that he too had followed Sanders' line of thought. It only made sense for Shepard to realise what the lieutenant wanted to do, after all people in his line of work had to consider even the most pragmatic actions to accomplish their missions. For someone like Anderson it was a bit more unusual to consider such a morally questionable course of action.

Had'dah had sent a krogan bounty hunter after her already, it was obvious that he wanted the lieutenant silenced. His desire to do so may even draw him out. The idea of using the technical officer as bait was definitely not a long shot but its chance of success didn't make it any less questionable in his eyes. Anderson wasn't a fan of putting people in the line of fire who had no business being in combat in the first place, he know that he could pull through most situations, including playing the bait, but he had gone to hell and back to complete N7 training, Sanders was a technician with good instincts, no special forces operative and hardly combat proven. Her question had caused an uncomfortable silence to settle in the room as the ambassador's stare narrowed in on Sanders' own eyes and both the specialist and he himself didn't dare to interrupt the tension that had built up between the two women. As far as the chain of command was concerned, Goyle was right and his own conscience agreed with the ambassador. Sanders lacked the training to put her self into such a situation, it was dangerous. Yet a small pragmatic part of his mind and the reality of the situation agreed with Kahlee. They had to draw out Qian and Had'dah and the best way to do that was to give them what they wanted.

"That's what I thought," Sanders added to the silence. "He wants me and if either of them were to get word that I am on Camala, a world where Had'dah holds a lot of power, they'd jump the gun to silence me. If we put Had'dah in the picture, Arterius is definitely going to help. That batarian is his mission and if the talk I had with him is anything to go by, he won't pass up the chance to get a shot at him."

The ambassador didn't reply at first, causing the lieutenant to keep talking.

"Please, ambassador. I need to see this through. I own it to everyone who died on Sidon."

He understood where she came from. While he came from a very different part of the navy than her, a part much closer to death, he was almost certain that Sanders was feeling extremely guilty for having survived the attack on Sidon due to a lucky case of timing. He had seen it before during N7 deployments or the closing days of the Fringe Wars. Soldiers who survived while the rest of their unit died were either broken by the experience or thrown into a state in which they felt an unquenchable need to finish what they started to honor the sacrifices of their comrades, to give meaning to the fact that they had survived while everyone else had died. Sanders was a technician but she was also a soldier and a lot of the people who had been murdered on Sidon had been her comrades. He had gone through a similar phase after Santino had died when his unit had gone after Sederis. The memory of the guilt caused him to speak up.

"I think it's a good idea," he stated in a clear tone. "Lieutenant Sanders obsesses valuable insight on Qian's personality and would be very useful in securing whatever data he stole. She is far more qualified than me to retrieve anything he could've taken with him," it was lie. He was playing on the technically inept infantry stereotype and by the look of the ambassador it was working. Truthfully he could do without the woman but he knew that she needed closure. A short, thankful smile from they younger blonde woman told him that he had done the right thing. He just hoped he wouldn't regret it in a few days.

"Alright, you've convinced me," she said as she nodded at Sanders. "For the record, I don't think that this is a good idea but the situation is forcing my hand. If it were up to me, you'd stay as far from this as possible. If something happens to you, its on me. The moment you can, you get her out of there, understood Lieutenant Anderson?"

He nodded.

"I'm doing this on my own accord, Ambassador Goyle and if anything happens its the fault of Had'dah and Qian," the lieutenant reasoned to put her mind at ease.

"You should get going," Shepard said as he steered them back on their course, the mission. "This is a time sensitive matter. Get the Spectre on board, get word out that Sanders is on Camala and bag the targets."

"Right," Anderson nodded. "You go speak to Arterius, I'll head out for the Iwo Jima and prep for our departure to Camala. See if he can leak word about your position through third channels."

A nod from Sanders was followed by being dismissed by the ambassador and soon the two parted ways, the lieutenant walking towards a patiently waiting turian and he himself heading for the docking bay. They could work out a plan once the Spectre was on the Iwo Jima.

* * *

 **Early 2138 CE, Citadel, Embassy Area**

He drummed the tips of his talons on the armrest of the bench as he waited in the yard in front of the embassy complex, people who were passing by him throwing a glance in his direction ever so often as they took note of the armored and armed turian sitting among them. The embassy area of the Citadel was among the busiest places on the Presidium ring, members of all species rushing between the different buildings to negotiate, discuss and work in order to maintain the galactic community. An elcor and a hanar, both sharing rather unique means of communication, were discussing something on his left, an asari rushing past him on his right, likely to another meeting and a volus waiting for someone as he awkwardly tried to sit on a bench not made for someone of his physique.

He knew that he looked incredibly patient to the outside world as his eyes remained set on the entrance of the human embassy but there was a turmoil raging in his mind which was invisible to the people around him. The turian had not problem with stalking a gang of thieves across Juxhi over the course of months and Blackwatch had made it almost second nature to Saren to spent hours upon hours waiting for the right moment to strike. If he knew that he was actually doing something to advance his mission, he would have no problem with waiting.

But right now this wasn't the case. A 'might' was all he had to go by and that was eating away his patience with every minute he spent waiting for Sanders to exit the building. Had she said that she would tell him what he needed to know after the meeting, he would be at complete ease but no such thing had happened. Her words had been that she might be able to tell him, therefore he felt like he was possibly wasting time he could spent to track down Had'dah on his own by waiting for something that may not even happen in the first place. He had briefly caught sight of the lieutenant and the N7 as they had walked past a rather big window. That had been some thirty minutes ago. Ever since then he had observed the people passing by the glass panel, its higher position, somewhat reflective surface and taint making it hard, but not impossible, to identify who was walking past it.

As he caught yet another glimpse of two people, looking like they could be the couple he had encountered on Elysium walking past it, time began to slow down even further. Soon he would know if he had wasted his time. The door of the building opened a few minutes later to reveal the couple he had been waiting for. The two people walked outside before parting ways, one, Anderson, walking past him and the other walking towards him, Sanders.

"You waited," the woman noted as she closed in on Saren. "Good."

"Can you tell me what I need to know?" he asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Yes," relief washed over him. He had not wasted his time.

He looked at her, expecting Sanders to keep talking. When she didn't, he took the initiative.

"Well?" he very nearly growled by accident.

"The chief scientist of Sidon has been working with Edan Had'dah for a few weeks now. He betrayed the HSA and Had'dah wanted to silence me because I figured it out. That's why he sent Skarr after me."

He nodded while his mind began to raise. The lieutenant had told him that Sidon was researching human biotics and since the HSA had access ot its own Element Zero, there was no reason for the head scientist to reach out for a batarian Eezo supplier, a supplier owned by Edan Had'dah at that, someone who hated humanity with a passion. Logically there was no reason for the batarian to even consider working with a human scientist.

But Had'dah wasn't driven by logic, he was driven by hate.

If Edan Had'dah believed that the turncoat would enable him to enact his revenge on a scale even bigger than attacking Citadel embassies, it was possible that he was willing to make an exception. That in turn raised the question what a biotic researcher could give him that would be bigger than a terroristic attack on the galactic center of power. Biotics were dangerous but what purpose would a human scientist have in this matter? Batarian biotics, while rare, had existed for centuries. Unless the HSA had made an unknown breakthrough, a very unlikely scenario since biotics were very well understood by now, there was no point in striking a deal with him for his expertise. Could it be his security clearance that Had'dah was after? A high ranking scientist could give Had'dah the location of sensitive targets.

But that only covered the human part of the aristocrat's grudge. Edan Had'dah hated turians just as much as he hated humans and had blown of the attack on the embassies because he believed that he could strike them at an even more vulnerable point. What information could the scientist hold that would hurt both the turian and the humans? Was it possible that he had been part of yet another joint research program Saren had no knowledge of? Was it possible that the scientist was an expert in more than just biot-

"Still with me, Arterius?" he was torn form his thoughts as he felt a slight push against his shoulder.

"Excuse me?" he asked as his mandibles twitched in surprise. Apparently Sanders had been talking with him all the while he had been trying to figure out what Had'dah might be trying to do.

"I asked you if you're going to help us go after them. They are working together. We want Qian, you want Had'dah and we need you to pass the Harsa Relay without causing a major diplomatic incident. As you said, we can help each other."

He recalled that conversation. At the time Sanders had denied that possibility, most likely because she hadn't known if she could tell him what he asked for. His mission was to stop Had'dah, Councilor Idril had made that very clear after he had sent him a preliminary report of the events on Juxhi. Now they could actually profit from each other.

"Do you have a plan?" he asked. He would like to know details before charging into the unknown.

"You totally spaced out on me, didn't you?" the woman sighed.

That reaction suggested that she had already told him their plan.

"Had'dah wants me dead, that's why he hired Skarr to go after me. If I were to appear on a place where he holds a lot of power, say Camala, he'd be drawn out. By now its likely that Qian is with him. If we get to either of them, we'll find the other one," she explained. "We'll travel to Camala with the Iwo Jima and then we'll need you to leak word that I'm hiding out there. I'll play the bait to draw them out and you and Anderson go in for the kill when they appear."

"What if they send Skarr to grab you? Nothing forces them to go after you personally," he said as he noticed the most obvious flaw in the plan. Why would they not sent their krogan bounty hunter?

"Then you go after me," Sanders replied confidently.

"Last time I fought Skarr, I had the moment of surprise," he said as he rolled his shoulder. He still felt a slight sting, "and barely won."

"You sent him running," she reminded him. "I'd call that more than 'barely."

"He wasn't expecting a fight," Saren admitted. "Furthermore if Had'dah wants you dead, what would keep Skarr from killing you on the spot?"

"Not reassuring, Arterius," the woman frowned. "I'm counting on the fact that he doesn't want to make it a very public event. Skarr was keeping a low profile before, maybe he'll do it again. Now, assuming I don't get 'killed on the spot'," she quoted him,"and Skarr is sent to take me to Had'dah and Qian, you'll go after me. Once he ges to them, you take care of Skarr, capture them both and we're golden."

The plan was risky and had questionable chance of success but risk and questionable chacnes of success were constant companions for a Spectre.

"You do realise that the most likely scenario is that Skarr will come after you and that there is no guarantee for your safety?" he asked again.

"Are you in or not?" she dismissed his question.

"Yes," he nodded as he got up from the bench.

"And you're not going to lecture me on the fact that I don't belong in the field? Being a technician and all that?" she asked with a smile.

"You volunteered for this, didn't you?" he asked. Her answer wouldn't influence the fact that he would go on this mission, it would only serve to give him a clear consciousness about his acceptance.

"Yes," Sanders replied with determination.

"Then I see no reason to do so," he spoke. Turians understood that the good of the many outweighed the good of the few. If someone was willing to play the bait for the good of the many, he saw no reason to question that person's decision.

"So can we count on you?"

"Yes. I need to stop Had'dah," he replied. "When do we departure?"

"Now. Anderson is already making preparations to head out."

* * *

 **Three Days Later, HSASV Iwo Jima**

The travel to Camala had been surprisingly easy thanks to his presence and as far as he had been told, the Batarian Hegemony had been unable to track this vessel to the Indris System. Apparently it shared similar qualities as the frigates used by the Turian Hierarchy to deploy Blackwatch teams on covert missions or the STG ships capable of avoiding most means of detection he had heard rumors about. He wondered what would happen if one combined the different approaches to stealth of these vessels. A blend of kinetic barrier technology and human shielding systems had already created the more versatile but less powerful hybrid generator he used as a backup for his main barrier, who knew what the combined effort of the two governments could do with stealth technology.

Saren sat in the observation deck of the frigate, a rare luxuray for a military vessel, and looked at the dark brown orb they were currently approaching, Camala. The world was part of the area known as the Kite's Nest, the same cluster in which the home system of the batarians, Harsa, was located. Orbiting a star called Indris, its system was only reachable through traditional FTL travlel, lacking its own mass relay. It was a new colony, only being settled after prospectors found a large amount of Element Zero that had escaped early batarian surveyors due to the lack of advanced scanning equipment a decade ago. In a very untypical and mostly economically motivated move, the Hegemony had opened the world to people of all races as long as they hailed from independent colonies, causing its population to be larger than the typical mining world.

Camala's capital, Ujon was build around several oases, allowing its nearly three million inhabitants easy access to fresh, drinkable water in the otherwise unbearable drought seasons of the planet. It was also constructed near the largest deposits found on the world, large refineries replacing the suburbs around the rich core of the almost paradisiacal location as they enriched the Hegemony every day. The wealth of Camala's citizens was evident to Saren simply by looking at the pictures of Ujon. It spoke of just how much money one could make with Element Zero and almost reminded him of Thessia, another world who earned a fortune through the bluish material that allowed the civilizations of the galaxy to harness the mass effect.

Just like Thessia, Camala's viceroy had taken steps to ensure that the planet would remain wealthy once its considerable deposits of Eezo were depleted. Instead of building the world as an economic and politcal center, he ordered the construction of empty cities around the other oases of the planet to create a tourist attraction for wealthy people unaffiliated with the Citadel and luring in companies with favorable laws to ensure the continued high living standard of the world. It was a rare example of a viceroy actually being good at their job. Usually the batarian colonial rulers were selected for their loyalty, not their ability. Camala had either gotten lucky or Chairman Kar'Amon, the despotic ruler of the Batarian Hegemony, had realised that the world would be of more value to him if held in competent but somewhat less loyal hands.

The Iwo Jima would soon deploy them to the surface through the use of a shuttle capable of stealth insertion, a rather useful tool. From there they'd find their way into the center of the city on foot. Unlike most batarian colonies, Camala lacked a large Internal Forces presence to avoid scaring of non-batarian people or more importantly companies. Instead the bigger companies of the planet policed the world with their private security forces, professionals equipped with the best gear the rich companies of the world could afford. This was the sole reason such a bold plan would work. The security forces were mostly focused on asset protection and as such the core of the city was only patrolled by a few, mostly bored officers that were currently not deployed to the refineries on the city's edges. On any other batarian world they'd most likely be caught before being sentenced to a life of slavery as punishment but Camala was truly an anomaly.

Once inside, they'd set up a small base of operations and leak out word that Sanders was hiding near the center of the city, far away from most security forces. Then they'd wait for Had'dah to take the bait and hopefully bag him in a swift grab and run operation. If Had'dah sent Skarr, he knew that the best course of action would be to let him capture Sanders and track him to the batarian and his human accomplice, even if it put the woman at even more risk. The Spectre had refrained from telling this to Anderson, his human partner for this operation but Sanders, their bait, was already well aware of it. Over the last few days it had become quite obvious to Saren that the N7 was uncomfortable with using Sanders, who had still volunteered for the post, as bait. By observing the two over the last few days, he had figured out that Anderson had agreed to the mission as a favour for Sanders and Saren suspected that if he told him that the best course of action was to let her get captured, he wouldn't be willing to go through with the mission due to the possibility of Skarr killing her. The man struck him as a good military leader, not willing to put innocent people in the line of fire, determined to protect his comrades, grounded in his morale principles and willing to fight to the last breath. But not the person willing to be as pragmatic as this situation called for and not the person for this kind of work. While he admired these traits in Anderson, the years since becoming a Spectre had taught him that pragmatism was sometimes the only way to succeed.

Of course he disliked the inherent risk of the plan as well but he was a turian. His people had long since understood that the good of the many, which would be achieved by risking Sanders life and stopping Had'dah and his accomplice, outweighed the good of the few, which in turn would've been keeping Sanders out of the line of fire but letting the batarian and the doctor run free.

After they got a shot at Had'dah and Qian, hopefully taking them out of the equation in the process, they'd make a run for the closest landing site they could find. The idea was that the Iwo Jima itself would use its advanced stealth technology, including the ability to hide from most atmospheric sensors to pick them up. Shuttles had been considered for the retrieval as well but by then the airspace would be crowded by whatever interceptors the companies possessed, a threat a frigate such as the Iwo Jima could simply shrug off thanks to its ability to maintain its shields within the atmosphere and its advanced point-defence systems. After that they'd jump inside the frigate's hangar and make their escape, disappearing in the deep of space before making a quick FTL jump to the Harsa Relay, the fact that they had been on a Spectre assignment acting as their shield against the batarian navy.

The door behind him hissed open, the reflection of a man wearing onyx armor appearing in front of him.

"We're just about ready to hit the surface," he spoke as he walked up next to him. "I presume you're ready?"

"Yes," Saren replied. He had been ready for a few hours which had prompted him to go the observation deck in the first place. "Are you?"

"Of course I'm ready, it's why I came to fetch you," the human chuckled as he looked at him in confusion. Anderson failed to realise that Saren hadn't asked about his gear. It had been a question aimed at his mental state. He had asked if he was ready to go against some of his core personality traits.

"I know you're not very comfortable with this plan," the Spectre clarified. "I meant to ask if you're ready to go through with it in spite of that."

"It's not like we got any other options," he said, "and I think both of us are going to try our hardest to keep Sanders as safe as possible, right?"

"Yes," the turian nodded as he rose, now standing slightly taller than Anderson. The N7 had no idea that the Spectre's definition of 'as save as possible' might have to differ from his own for the sake of the mission.

* * *

 _Codex: Starship stealth_

 _For centuries it was believed that disguising a spaceship from heat sensors was nearly impossible due to the extreme cold of space and the heat generated by even the most basic activity on space ships causing every craft to appear as a bright, red dot on even the most basic scanners and as far as the public was concerned until the Normandy, the first ship of its class and product of a joint turian-human military project starting in 2406 AD, was commissioned in 2415 AD this consideration was the truth._

 _However, as far as high ranking political, scientific and military officials were concerned, the Normandy-class simply represented the absolute pinnacle of stealth technology, outclassing previous concepts in terms of efficiency and function by several magnitudes._

 _Stealth ships have existed in one way or another ever since the Krogan Rebellions, being used and advanced by both the Turian Hierarchy and later the Human Systems Alliance. The concept of the Normandy's internal emission sinks is simply the single most effective design to ever be created, capable of storing its heat for much longer than other ships of its lineage._

 _Past designs would employ a leapfrogging strategy, short range FTL jumps followed by a period of several hours of slow travel speed with their heat sinks engaged, a strategy the Normandy made obsolete by being capable of flying for several hours at an incredible fast pace or drifting for days at the slow speed employed by other stealth vessels. Instead of leapfrogging, the Normandy-class was capable of operating like any other frigate with their heat sinks engaged, only having to vent its heat after a buildup that would've destroyed previous designs several times over._

 _The Turian Hierarchy and Human Systems Alliance remain the sole, known, operators of a fleet of stealth frigates employing them for long-range reconnaissance, convoy raiding and deployment of special operation forces. While neither military has published official numbers on how many vessels capable of stealth each of their navies possess, it is known that three other Normandy-class vessels were finished shortly after the Normandy SR-1 engaged [redacted by authority of the Citadel Council] and that at least one, the THS Parnack, is currently (2417 AD/ 2158 CE ) part of the turian navy. Currently an unknown number of ships remain under construction in classified human and turian docks._

 _Nearly all races affiliated with the Citadel Council, except the Salarian Union, have time and again tried to bargain for the exact design of this ground breaking design but neither Council member has been willing to disclose the secrets of the Normandy class. It is unknown why the Salarian Union has not requested access to the ship's design although certain groups believe it to be linked to the still unknown method of deployment used by the Special Tasks Group._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Chapter 27. Took me sometime to get everything like I wanted it to be and we're closing on Revelation's third act!**

 **This chapter has no action whatsoever, I hope its still entertaining though, its mostly talking really.**

 **I tried to divide it between Saren and Anderson as much as possible but still, Saren had three scenes, Anderson only one, slighty longer one. I also wanted to make it clear that they don't think exactly alike. Saren is still a Spectre and personally, Anderson never struck me as the kind of person who could think like one, hence that bit at the end.**

 **Now don't worry, I'm not gonna go back on the burry the hatchet thing I wrote last chapter, I'll just illustrate why Anderson, in my opinion, was never quite fit for all shades of Spectre work in the first place.**

 **For the Record, we're at 197 reviews, 404 favoritues and 487 follows.**

 **We cracked 400 favorites, that's insae guys.**

 **As always, tell me what you think about this chapter and I'll come back to you, if I can. I can't come back to guests, sorry mates.**

 **See you around next time.**


	28. Workplace Safety

**Chapter 28. Workplace Safety**

* * *

 **Early 2138 CE, Camala, Ujon**

Camala's capital looked nothing like the typical batarian mining colony. Instead of being made up of dirty, mostly brownish, raw prefab complexes stacked on top of each other in polluted, dirty environments, Ujon looked like it had been cut out of a batarian propaganda poster. The idealized style of architecture depicted by propaganda images of the rich, secluded communities of the higher caste on the surface of Khar'shan had come to life on the desert planet but unlike the secretive planet which outsiders were forbidden to visit, Ujon actually lacked the low caste slums that sprawled large regions of the batarian home world. This lead Saren to believe that the slaves working on Camala were housed somewhere else. He just didn't know where. Clean, colorful buildings with circular roofs reached into the sky as the wealthy population of Ujon enjoyed the surprisingly mild day while he and Anderson watched Sanders from a distance. The lieutenant had placed herself in as public of a place as possible to keep Skarr from killing her on the spot while Anderson and he himself had taken shelter in a construction site across the street, observing Sanders as she sat in the shade provided by a large, red canopy, drinking the beverage provided by the restaurant as she waited for the arrival of their target or rather her hunter, ignoring the batarians outright staring at her.

Saren rested his Mantis against the edge of the as of now still windowless opening in the facade of the building as the plastic sheath covering most of the opening moved with the wind, giving him a slightly bigger field of vision. To his left a human form with an assault rifle lay still on the ground of the unfinished office building, looking down to the street out of an equally unfinished balcony as the sun slowly crept closer to the soldier with each minute that passed. Soon it would vanish behind one of the bigger business complexes of Ujon, removing the need for his helmet to filter out the additional brightness. They had been here for a bit over three hours, having leaked word about Sanders whereabouts yesterday morning to give Had'dah and Qian enough time to react and call in Skarr. As far as they should be concerned, Sanders had figured that hiding in plain sight was her best option and the fact that Skarr never managed to lay his eyes on her on Elysium would give weight to that claim. At least in the Spectre's eyes.

"Not a sign of Skarr," he heard a whisper coming from the human as Saren scanned Sander's surroundings with his own rifle, noting the absence of any krogan.

"Not private security either," he observed. "At least not uniformed."

"The salarian on her right keeps looking around himself."

"Probably a corporate spy," Saren replied. "Camala and industrial espionage go hand in hand. If not for the fact that they admit to using slave labour, they might as well be a second Illium."

"Gotta give it to the batarians, they don't hide behind the excuse of shady working contracts. They admit to being slaving scumbags," Anderson observed.

"Worse, they carry that title with pride," Saren added to the N7's observation. While the majority human idioms did not make sense for turians, scumbags were a nearly universal concept across the galactic community and might even be an understatement when applied to these people.

The two soldiers lapsed into silence again as they kept their eyes on Sanders and the knowledge that Saren might have to keep Anderson from acting prematurely once more began to weight on the turian's mind but the fact that stopping Had'dah was still priority remained. He didn't know what the batarian aristocrat planned with the help of the human doctor but he knew that they would never get close to either of them if Anderson jumped the gun the moment Skarr appeared to take the bait.

"I got a krogan, walking towards the canopy from a corporate transport. Blue armor, red plates."

The moment of truth.

He moved his scope through the crowd and his finger began to creep towards the location Anderson had called out. His Mantis' rounds could tear through most barriers and armor with ease and if push came to shove, they might even mortally injure a krogan given one aimed for the right spot, a skill he possessed. If this was Skarr and he would show any intent of simply killing Sanders, he trusted his rifle to put the bounty hunter down. He spotted the dark blue boots of a krogan suit of armor and his sight wandered up to the face of the reptile, a red headplate and beige skin coming into view.

It was Skarr and he certainly looked like he came to fight.

Not only was he carrying at least an assault rifle and a shotgun on his back, no he had also taken a page out of Saren's own armory, the service pistol of a turian soldier clearly visible on the krogan's hip. From whom he had stolen it didn't matter, he wouldn't have it much longer.

"Stay calm," he told his partner in preparation for what would come next as he heard the safety flick off of the human rifle he was carrying. "Only shoot if he makes a move to kill her. If you fire now, Qian will slip away forever," he added as Skarr walked towards Sanders who simply set her drink on the table as she spotted him. He didn't expect her to be this calm. Sure, she had volunteered to be the bait but even he would have some sort of reaction if the largest krogan he had ever encountered would walk straight towards him. She didn't even flinch.

"He definitely saw her," Anderson muttered.

"Good," Saren replied.

"We have different interpretations of the word good."

"If he saw her and hasn't shot her yet, it means that he'll take her somewhere. Probably to our targets."

"Fine enough. He's underneath the canopy," the N7 said as Saren kept his scope aligned with the krogan's head. One wrong move and Ujon's soil would be stained orange.

The people around Sanders were now realising that something was about to go down, members of several species getting up from their tables around the woman as the krogan stomped towards her, throwing a table that had been in his way to the side and scattering food, which was probably worth more than some of his own weapons, across the floor. Sanders, for the sake of making it seem like she wanted to evade capture, played along. She rose from her chair and put on a fearful expression as she faked an escape attempt, clumsly tripping over a table as a part of her performance. This move, while embarrassing, had been deliberate to give Skarr an excuse to close the distance between him and Sanders and now the large reptile loomed over the woman, who looked very much like a child compared to the bounty hunter. The krogan bent down, reached out and soon his left hand was closing around her throat. Then Skarr proceeded to pick her up as if she weighed nothing before lifting her to his eye level, a growl from his left following the action.

"He's choking her," Anderson urged him once more. "Take the shot."

"Not yet," this was the point where their different views on keeping Sanders as safe as possible would clash and he knew it. He split his focus, one part of his mind still ready to make the shot at a moments notice while the other began to construct his attempt at convincing the N7 from doing something that would jeopardize the mission. "If I shoot Skarr now, his hand will jerk and close, it would crush her windpipe."

It wasn't technically a lie, it was merely a very unlikely scenario that might play out in one out of every twenty cases. If he was entirely honest, a shot from his rifle would most likely cause Skarr to drop dead the moment its round would explode inside his skull.

"I thought you said you could take him down in one shot," Anderson muttered.

"I can't stop basic krogan biology," he replied before sighing in relief as the krogan dropped Sanders back to her feet, grabbing a hold of her collarbone to produce a painful expression on her face before leading her towards the vehicle. He pushed her inside as he made a move for the driver's seat Saren withdrew the rifle from the unfinished window before folding it and storing it on his back, reaching out for the human on the ground. "Let's get moving, the moment Skarr lands, there's no guarantee for her safety."

The N7 nodded as he grabbed a hold of the turian's hand, pulling himself to his feet. The two made their way to the partially painted stairway as Saren looked at his omni-tool. "Her tracker is working, they are moving away from Ujon," he informed Anderson as the two shot through the backdoor of the unfinished building and towards the wheeled dust buggy they had 'borrowed' from a couple of corporate security forces, Anderson jumping behind the wheel as the Spectre climbed into the seat next to him, strapping himself in.

"Head north," he instructed as the wheels began to move, throwing up clouds of sand as the N7 stepped on the gas. While a normal skycar would not have managed to outrun their own means of transportation, Saren had recognized the craft Skarr had used as the same model employed by C-SEC and as such their speed was warranted. The krogan's car lacked the speed limiter built into regular X3Ms to avoid deadly collisions, instead giving the pilot the ability to accelerate the small shuttles to speeds akin to military craft and opting for a kinetic barrier and a skilled driver to safeguard any occupants in case of a crash. It was far more expensive than the civilian craft found on more developed worlds but a rich company like Had'dah Enterprises could probably afford an entire fleet of them. They raced through the streets as his omni-tool informed him of the increasing distance between themselves and Skarr, every turn they had to take forcing them to slow down just a bit yet giving the krogan even more time to get further away from them. As they cleared the last corner of the city and Saren's eyes spotted the empty landscape in front of them he knew that this disadvantage was now over.

"He's heading further into the desert," Saren said as the dust buggy tore through the sandy dunes, lifting of the ground after clearing a rather large one and only its suspension keeping them from being roughed up by the landing. "The only thing out there are refineries," he said as he felt his body shake at the hands of yet another involuntary jump after the buggy had flown through the air for far longer than he was comfortable with. In the distance he could already see the towers of an Element Zero refinery and a small glinting in the sky betrayed Skarr's skycar as the sun reflected of its canopy at the right angle during yet another short, airborne phase of their pursuit.

"There he is," he heard Anderson say as the man's grip on the steering wheel tightened upon impact with the ground, sand flying up behind their buggy as a cloud of dust once more began to form behind them.

"Had'dah and Qian are probably in there," Saren figured as he saw the glinting form descend towards the large industrial complex, only a single dune and small stretch of open desert separating the buggy from its outer perimeter. Unlike most of the capitol, this facility would be well protected, a fact the N7 should also realise, a fact that should cause him to slow down.

Should.

Instead the vehicle began to accelerate even more.

"Spirits, slow down," Saren urged as he realised the N7's intend, a fragile looking fenced gate growing closer as he prepared himself for the inevitable impact. A couple of guards were already running towards the entry, lifting their rifles upwards. Anderson simply pressed the gas pedal as close to the floor as possible. Were all humans such crazy drivers?

"If we slow down, Sanders is dead," Anderson said as he turned towards him.

He had a point, Saren didn't like where that point would take them or rather where it would go through, namely the fence, but it was still there none the less. He had promised to keep Sanders safe and now he'd fullfill that promise. The Spectre nodded his approval moments before the dust buggy tore through the barricade, mass accelerator rounds flying past them as they crashed into one of the guards that had wandered to close to their point of entry, his armor allowing him to survive the initial impact. The batarian struggled to reach for his gun before the Spectre pulled his Carnifex and put a round into his head before throwing him of the vehicle, small rounds impacting on the makeshift street in front of them as the dust buggy narrowly avoided a group of workers coming from one of the buildings.

"Her tracker puts her in one of the main processing units, take the next right," Saren called as Anderson did as he was instructed, only to stomp on the breaks as a large mining truck obstructed their way, a surprised looking batarian driver staring down at them from his cabin before his expression grew more hateful as the wheels of the transporter began to move again. They both realised his intend and his truck would most certainly win that particular fight.

"Maybe I'll take the next right," Anderson suggested as he turned his head around, shifting the dust buggy into reverse and bringing them back on the road they had come from before once more stepping on the gas, causing them to bring some distance between the truck and their much smaller vehicle.

"Good plan," Saren replied as he fired his pistol at a batarian that had gotten to close for his liking. "Whole complex is build like a grid, should get us there," he added as their buggy raced through the refinery. Anderson pulled the steering wheel to the right, sending them on the right path once more while the Spectre took care to decimate the guards firing at them. The fact that the dust buggy was moving as fast as it did made it rather hard for them to hit either way but he wouldn't take any chances. A dead guard simply couldn't hit them.

"Skarr's our priority, he's by far the most dangerous factor," the Spectre began to improvise a plan as he fired several shots through the broken windshield of the dust buggy, dropping a couple of guards with a rapid series of body hits as they lined themselves up on a catwalk above the street. "Once he's eliminated, Sanders will be in the clear and we can focus on getting Had'dah and Qian."

"Alright. Did you notice anything strange about this place?" Anderson asked as he pulled a hard right, wheels screeching as the dust buggy drifted around the corner. While crazy, he was definitely a good driver. Slowly the turian was getting used to his driving style.

"What do you mean?" Saren asked before a bullet tore past his head, causing him to drop the shooter as they drove past him. The batarian collapsed on the road and there were two noticeable bumps on their way as Anderson drove over his corpse. "Besides their horrible aim?" he joked.

"There are no barracks," the N7 remarked. "No living units, not even shacks."

"And?" Saren questioned before his omni-tool beeped. "Turn left," he instructed.

"An awful lot of slaves around here," Anderson muttered while narrowly avoiding another group of workers that had been trying to cross the street at the intersection. "You'd think they'd have a place to stay."

Saren had already noticed the lack of traditional slave slums around their workplaces and the N7 had a point, normally slaves had their own barracks. If not out of the compassion of their masters then for logistical reasons. Mining slaves were usually herded into large, crowded buildings close or within the place they worked at to cut costs. There were no such buildings around here, at least none that he could see and he hadn't seen any living quarters when they had driven through the desert either. Batarians were cruel but they weren't stupid, they let their slaves rest so they wouldn't die of exhaustion after the first few weeks, and as such they actually allowed the people they hold captive to recover from the hard physical labour they conducted every day. It seemed unlikely that they'd transport them to a separate holding facility at the end of each shift and as far as he could tell, the slaves they had seen didn't look like they were being worked to death until their replacements arrived. They had to stay somewhere

"You'd think that," Saren nodded before pointing up ahead. "There's Skarr's transport. Sanders' tracker is somewhere in that building."

"Time to kill that bastard," Anderson replied as he stepped on the breaks to slow down the dust buggy, causing their ride to come to a halt in front of the main Eezo processing unit. The two partners jumped out, for now forgoing to answer the question as to where the slaves lived, and dashed towards the first door they saw, forcing it open just as the guards caught up to them. They practically threw themselves inside, apparently having entered directly into a storage area.

"Bust the lock," Anderson suggested as Saren smashed a biotically fueled fist into the locking mechanism on the inside, the sound of a typical biotic thud being drowned out by the noise created by the machinery inside. Scrambling into cover as they expected to be shot at the moment they set foot inside the building, Saren braced his Carnifex while Anderson raised his assault rifle waiting for the shooters to reveal nothing happened, Saren turned his head around the stack of boxes he was using as for cover and scanned the rest of the hall they were inside, his human companion mirroring his move

No one had noticed them yet.

Large boxes were stacked to the roof as slave workers carried the crates to a conveyor belt leading through the facility and through a series of devices used to refine the Eezo from the ores they had dug up alongside it. Under the watchful eyes of several guards, seemingly unarmed yet probably issued with enforcement gauntlets and submission nets, they poured the crates' contents onto the belt to allow the collection of dirt, ore and Eezo to make its way towards the main processor, a large device hung from the ceiling by several support beams, used to refine the Element Zero. Besides the conveyor belt, the machinery, a second level most likely used for administrative purposes and the boxes, only slaves and guards were visible at first glance. Unlike their comrades on the ground floor and among the slaves, three other, armed batarians were patrolling along a central catwalk located above the rest of the factory, carrying heavy looking Chakram Launchers, a type of grenade launcher that could be modified for riot control through the use of knockout gas grenades. He followed the catwalk and the pipes running across the roof wit his eyes before something caught his attention.

"Left, second floor," Saren pointed out as he spotted Sanders through a stained window of one of the rooms on the second floor, talking to someone out of view as a hulking krogan in dark blue armor paced in front of the room. If it wasn't Skarr who was interrogating her, it was most likely Had'dah, Qian or both. Saren didn't see the krogan taking orders from anyone else. "Now for a way up," he began to look around himself.

"Way ahead of you," Anderson nodded, slowly lifting his rifle towards the krogan before tilting his head to the right, a stairway made of dark-brown metal coming into the Spectre's view as he leaned out of his cover even further. It was obstructed by a pathetic looking fenced gate. Apparently Had'dah Enterprises had decided to cut corners on their security standards due to the presumed safety of Camala, he wouldn't complain about it and he would most certainly exploit it.

"Let's go," the Spectre spoke as his fist lit up once more, a wave of biotic ripples sending the door flying up the stairs at first before gravity once more caused it to slide down towards them. The pair moved up to the stairs and in spite of the noise, Saren could've sworn he had heard voices coming from underneath them as he threw the remains of the door out of his way.

"Did you just hear that?" he asked Anderson who was walking behind him, his eyes focused on the way they had come from, ready to put down anyone that would even consider shooting them in the back.

"Hear what?" the human muttered, walking up the stairs backwards until he bumped into Saren's back. "Keep moving, time is not exactly on our side."

He had a point, the guards could find another way in any minute now.

"I don't know what it was," the turian replied as he once more began walking up the stairs, his Carnifex pointing forward and moving to the head of one of the catwalk guards as he came into view, "but I could've sworn there was something."

"Bad time to start hearing ghosts," Anderson replied as Saren shook the thought out of his head still climbing the stairs and halfway expecting to be spotted by Skarr with every step he took towards the second floor.

"Once we're on top, you'll cover my back and I'll put a hole into Skarr's head," the Spectre began. "Once he's down, you start dashing for the door and I'll be right behind you. We bust it down, put ourselves between Sanders and what's probably Had'dah and Qian interrogating them. If they so much as twitch, start shooting."

"Capturing them isn't really an option anyway," the N7 shrugged as Saren knelt down, the boxy Mantis rifle unfolding in his hands before he took aim at the krogan.

"Then we don't capture them," Saren Arterius offered. "Get ready."

Skarr was a big target but he was also a moving target and the bullet had to hit the right spot, otherwise it may exit his skull before doing enough damage. He only had one shot. He rested the rifle against his shoulder and began to blend out the noise created by the machines around him , focusing on the sound each breath as his surroundings grew more quiet each time he exhaled. He repeated this process right until the noises completely vanished.

Which in turn caused him to look up again. He was good at focusing but he was not that good. No one was that good. One of the walls, acting as a large door used to move bigger things into the hall, was moved upwards before roughly a dozen guards streamed into the refinery, taking aim at the crowd of slaves as the guards in the room began to herd them out of the factory, allowing the security detail to start their search. Unbeknownst to them, they just had made Saren's next action a lot easier. Their entry had drawn the attention of the bounty hunter who had stopped his pacing.

"We got company," Anderson spoke.

"And I got Skarr, prepare to move" Saren whispered as he drew in a long breath. Anderson didn't question his orders, instead preparing himself to start running. Good. His finger slid into the trigger guard and against the actual trigger before he applied just enough pressure to fire of a single Mantis round. The recoil caused the sniper rifle to punch against his armored shoulder in a very familiar feeling while a streak of organe blood shot out of the side of Skarr's head, its impact causing the large bounty hunter to fall backwards and Anderson to run.

After a short silence, the security detail acted.

"They're on the second level! First squad, suppressive fire. Second squad, move up!" he heard a shout as he slapped the Mantis on his back, firing his Carnifex at the three guards on the catwalk before the crowd of security officers on the ground level began to return fire. He saw the onyx back of Anderson's armor in front of him as gained on him, his top speed being slightly higher than that of the N7. Just like he had been told, the N7 threw himself into the door and finding it to be open in the process, falling into the room as it easily gave way to him. Rounds bounced off of Saren's kinetic barriers as he followed him, taking care to snatch the turian service pistol of the krogan corpse lying in their path before jumping inside, nearly tripping over Anderson as he got up from the floor, rising to his feet in one swift motion. The Spectre followed his own plan and used himself as a shield for Sanders, only looking behind him once he was sure no one else was inside the room. Sanders was dangling from a rope used to tie her to a pipe running from somewhere outside of the room to the ceiling of the small office. There were signs of a beating and she looked somewhat worse for wear but was still breathing and more importantly conscious.

"You alright?" Anderson asked as he cut rope with his combat knife, catching her as she dropped to the ground before gently putting her down.

"Qian," she coughed, pointing her still tied hands into the direction of a closed door she was facing, "went that way."

"And Had'dah?" Saren asked before throwing himself to the ground as rounds shattered the window, returning fire with two pistols the instant whoever was shooting at them made the mistake of forgoing fire and maneuver tactics. He saw his rounds bounce of kinetic barriers of one of the guards as his guns overheated and in turn opted to use his biotic abilities. He clipped the retrieved pistol to his hip and then another shockwave of purple energy began flying towards a small squad of guards, the nasty sound of bones breaking putting a stop to their advance once the shockwave made contact with them.

"Went the same way but left before Qian did," Sanders wheezed as Anderson began to apply medigel on a cut on her face. "Something is seriously off about them," she added. "Watch out, Arterius. They're a special kind of crazy."

"I'll be fine," he said as he walked over to the door, shooting another batarian that had survived his biotic assault with his Carnifex, "you got her, Anderson?" Saren asked as he tried the door, only to find it locked. It looked sturdier than the one the N7 had thrown himself into but he had faith in his biotic powers.

"Yes, get going. I can handle a few batarians," Anderson waved as Saren focused his biotics into the heel of his foot, throwing a powerful kick underneath the handle of the metal door. He felt it break from his hinges and saw it slide down a long, dark stairway. Perhaps an escape tunnel? He'd find out soon enough.

He threw a final nod towards Anderson before following it down.

The lights illuminating the stairway grew brighter as he rushed after Qian and Had'dah and he could already see the end of the stairway down below. If he pictured the building correctly and recalled the length of the way they had gone up to towards the second level, he should be somewhere underneath the refinery by now. This set of stairs had been almost double the size of the first one and as he cleared the final step, spinning right with his Carnifex ready to fire, he found out that he was in fact not 'hearing ghosts' before. What he found explained the lack of designated living units, barracks or even basic shacks.

Had'dah Enterprises wasn't just cutting corners on the security front, no they had eliminated the need for slave transports as well. He lowered his Carnifex as he found frightened slaves of several species, mostly sitting or sleeping adults exhausted from night shifts, being the only thing his gun was pointing at. They were living underneath the buildings they were working in and now he had turned their home into a combat zone. There were at least twenty people down here and they had formed a corridor to walk through already. At the very end of it he could make out a person, most likely the human doctor, running away from him. Normally he would've shot the runner into the back without any qualms but as he tried to lift his gun, he saw several batarian slaves get in his line of fire. What had been done to them that they were willing to die for the people causing them so much suffering?

"Spirits, get moving, get out of the factory while you can!" he shouted into the crowd, causing some of the slaves to move in uncertainty before deciding to stop again, the batarian majority remaining on their places right from the beginning. Just how broken were these people? "What are you waiting for, make a run for it!"

"To where would we run?" a deep, guttural batarian voice asked. An elderly batarian had spoken from a metal plank bed, he was to weak to sit up and look at Saren but the Spectre suspected that his expression mirrored the empty stare some of the captives shared. "You can't save us, why bother?" the man growled. "You are the one who should get out of here while he still can, we're not going anywhere."

The fact that the man had a point stung. It was true, he couldn't save them. They had four seats in the dust buggy and no one in this basement besides him had the gear or skill required to survive simply driving out of this factory. If he was entirely honest, at the moment most of them wouldn't even survive setting foot outside of this basement.

But he could give them a chance.

"I can't save you," he echoed through the room. "But maybe you can save yourselves," he said as his omni-tool emitted a high pitched frequency, causing the trackers and control chips in their collars to short circuit. "There's a lot of guns up there," he began, looking at the non-batarian slaves in particular. Maybe they were not as defeated as the people who had grown up as slaves, "and a space worthy transport in the transporter pool."

"What about the guards?" a turian voice flanged. "Most of us are in no fighting shape, spirits most of these people don't have military training."

"They'll be all over me once I try to get out of here. Just wait till you hear them leave."

"It's suicide," another voice called.

"We'll die out there," a third cried. "I don't want to die!"

"This isn't living," the Spectre silenced them. "I can't force you to fight and I can't stay with you. The only thing I can give you is a chance to be free."

"It's better than sitting around," a fourth argued as he stepped forward, a striped batarian with one of his eyes burned out looked at him. The burning of an eye was a sign of having rebelled in the past, a punishment meant to break him. It hadn't worked. "I'd rather die a free man than live one more day in this cursed place."

"Get them out of here," Saren nodded towards him as the batarian returned the gesture. That man might just make it.

He broke into a sprint as the planning began behind him. He didn't know how many decided to take the chance and follow the rebel to freedom and he couldn't afford to think about right now. He had done everything he could, now it was up to them. At least that's what he told himself before shoving the guilt into a compartment. His naturally higher pace allowed him to quickly eliminate whatever head start Qian had gotten and his feet carried him through the basement of the refinery at a breakneck speed. Soon it became evident that Qian was far slower than Saren, a turian in his physical peak chasing a regular person was hardly a fair race. While a human of equal training would've been able to exploit the head start for far longer, this man was a scientist, not a soldier. He never stood a chance. The Spectre launched himself off of the ground as his hands reached for the doctor's shoulders, pulling him down to the floor before turning him around. Saren pressed his left forearm against Qian's throat and pointed a pistol at his head before assessing him. The man had a brownish skin pigmentation, not as dark as Anderson's but not as fair as that of Sanders either and short, black hair on his head. Blood leaked from a cut above his eye and a couple of teeth appeared to have broken off as the doctor smiled at him, a reddish stain coating several of them.

"Where's Had'dah? What were you planning?" Saren said as he lifted his forearm just enough to allow the doctor to speak.

"You can't stop him," Qian said. "No one can."

"We'll see about that," Saren said as he pressed his Carnifex against Qian's head. The man sure had a lot of faith in Had'dah. "What were you planning? Why can't I stop him?"

"You don't understand, do you?" Qian cracked another smile,"you didn't see what I saw. Of course you don't understand how could you? You're blind. Looking back it was so obvious, our arrogance blinded us, we always assum-"

A punch to the face stopped the human's rambling. Not only did punching him relieve some of the anger that had built up in the Spectre over the course of the day but it also served to keep him from wasting Saren's time with nonsense.

"Different question then," the Spectre said as he leaned in closer. "Why did Had'dah reach out to you?"

"He didn't reach out to me, he showed me the truth," the human shouted as Saren pressed him down to keep him under control. "The truth, the truth, the tru-", the human began to repeat himself, banging his head against the ground with each time he spoke the word 'truth'.

"What truth?" Saren snarled as the word repetition brought up a distant, yet clear memory of one of Haliat's recordings, placing a hand on the doctor's forehead and pressing it to the ground to prevent him from knocking himself out, he glared at him. He needed answers. His brother needed answers.

"You'll live to see it, turian," Qian said before his eyes began to glow, "and when you do, you'll wish you would've died earlier."

"Oh crap," he muttered as he remembered a talk he had had with another Spectre about salarian STG informants.

Saren tried to get as far away from him as possible, throwing himself forward and hitting the ground just as the ocular nerve flashbangs detonated. He would've to thank Solik Raeka, the Spectre who had inducted him, for telling him about that particular device. The fall to the ground had damaged his helmet, a large crack running down the middle of his visor, making it nearly impossible to keep wearing it and carrying it was hardly an option right about now. He clipped the white, damaged piece of gear to the back of his armor after getting up and began following the corridor. Had'dah could've only gone one way, it was a straight corridor after all. He managed to take exactly two steps before stumbling forward, narrowly avoiding pieces of the ceiling falling down on his Qian's corpse and blocking the path behind him as a detonation shook the entire structure around him. That hadn't been the work of the ocular nerve flashbangs but he didn't trust this corridor any longer, causing him to break into a sprint just as more pieces began to come down.

As he ran, he once more pictured the refinery in his mind and tried to calculate how far he had already gone, coming to the conclusion that the building should've run out of basement some thirty steps ago. He saw the end of the corridor and leaped forward just as it gave in completely, rolling to a stop on his back and halfway wondering if he had been hit as he felt a warm, wet liquid on his head. When no debris crushed him and he realised that the liquid was orange blood dripping out of a crack in the ceiling, he groaned in pain and decided that his time wasn't up just yet and that getting up and finishing the mission was his best course of action for now. He could think about a way back to the surface when he was at that point of his plan.

Looking around himself, he figured that Had'dah had built his own, private office underneath the refinery complex, at least the large, semi-open bunker door in front of him suggested that much. He lifted his Carnifex and walked towards the gap between two large, armored pieces of metal serving as the bunker's main entrance. Taking a look inside, he found the room to be surprisingly dark, except for the shine of several monitors and surprisingly empty, except for a batarian typing away at a terminal before his omni-tool lit up.

"Step away from the console, Had'dah," he called as he saw the yellow coloration of the batarian's robe. "Hands up, slowly."

* * *

 **Seven Minutes Earlier, 17. January 2396 AD, Camala, Had'dah Enterprises Refinery**

Anderson dropped the syringe of medigel as the Spectre went down the stairs, reaching out for Sanders' hand as he turned to her.

"Hunker down, you're in no condition to fight," he said as she grabbed a hold of the black gauntlet.

"You'll need help," the woman refused. "Give me your pistol."

"No," the N7 commanded. "Consider it an order, I outrank you, Lieutenant Sanders."

"Barely, Staff Lieutenant Anderson," the lieutenant sighed as he helped her to her feet before sitting her down in the far end of the room. "I don't like doing nothing."

That was an understatement.

"You've done more than the two of us. Stay low, I'll handle them. This is what I'm here for," Anderson said as he lifted his rifle, inching closer to the trigger as batarian shaped shadows began to appear on the wall next to the stairs. That would be the remaining five guards. They were in a narrow space and he would get the first shot but the pointman would've armor and shields, he couldn't just fire through all of them, even with the armor piercing rounds loaded into his SR-8 his bullets would get stuck eventually.

What he could do was pin them down until he improved his position.

Firing his gun, shell casings went flying as he walked sideways, away from the large, shattered window and away from Sanders to minimize the danger of her being hit in the crossfire. The pointman was dead after the first five rounds had left his rifle, the hybrid technology of mass effect and regular, powder based weaponry allowing the SR-8 to destroy his shields, dig through his armor and finally rupture his internal organs before he could get of a shot from his boxy, black Terminator assault rifle.

Next to go was the batarian behind him, dying just an inch short of cover as his head was torn apart by another three rounds that left the muzzle of Anderson's rifle as he pressed himself against the edge of the window, using the wall to stabilize his aim before being forced into cover as the three remaining batarians began to suppress him and their own shots got too close to Anderson for his liking. While he had been issued with a kinetic shielding hybrid, he didn't feel like testing his luck too much. Instead he crawled underneath the gunfire, small holes appearing just above his head in the process, until he found himself at the edge of the door. He got to his knees and leaned around, shooting a batarian that used the suppressive fire of his comrades to try and get into the room. The corpse fell forward but the N7 caught it before it hit the ground, throwing his left arm around the dead batarian's neck before pushing himself from his knees and to his feet, using the corpse as a human, or rather batarian, shield. The batarian was heavy but Anderson was under adrenaline, so he would manage for now. He rested the SR-8 on the corpses shoulder and began shooting at the two batarians, killing one of them before his gun ran dry just as the kinetic barriers of the last guard failed. He let go of the SR-8, causing the rifle to swing at his side as he reached for his SIS-8, putting four rounds into the remaining batarian's head who had gotten out of his cover to try exploiting Anderson's lack of bullets, before dropping his dead comrade to the ground, breathing heavily.

"It's done," he called back as he saw something wrong in the corner of his eye. There should've been a corpse there.

"No, it's not," a deep voice growled as a strong hand grabbed him from the side, throwing him onto the catwalk and sending his pistol flying.

Skarr.

Anderson got to his feet while reaching for another magazine for his SR-8, looking at the krogan slowly stomping towards him, a smirk on his face. Or rather a smirk on what was left of his face. The right half of his head, the one Saren had shot, was a complete mess and blood was flowing from a hole in his headplate where the Mantis round had most likely made its exit. The blood loss, severity of injury and the fact that Skarr had been down without moving or breathing for several minutes had been ample reason to consider him dead. No one would've survived that. Hell, looking at him Anderson was pretty sure that Skarr hadn't survived for a few minutes until his blood rage had somehow kicked in and revived him.

In the future, he would shoot any dead krogan twice. If there was a future.

He slapped a fresh magazine into the SR-8 and began pulling the trigger just as the krogan pulled on the muzzle of the rifle, a few shots digging through the softer armor at the palm of his hand until Anderson had to let go to keep his finger from being torn off as the bounty hunter forced the rifle out of his hand, tearing it of the sling Anderson had used to attach the rifle to his body armor-

"Heh. You think this toy is going to be enough to kill me?" Skarr said as he tossed it across the railing, picking up Anderson by his collar bone shortly afterwards. "That's insulting," he said as he spat orange blood onto Anderson's visor. In turn the N7 headbutted the injured half of his face, causing the krogan's grip to weaken a bit before growing even stronger. That cracking was the sound of at least a week of pain and it hadn't even gotten him enough wiggle room to get free.

"Heh, you got fight in you human," Skarr chuckled. "I respect that. Means I'll enjoy killing you even more."

The short period of weightlessness was not enough for Anderson to prepare himself for the impact. Skarr had thrown him over the railing and onto the conveyer belt. He felt himself land on a hard surface and only his gut telling him to roll right saved him from being crushed as Skarr jumped after him. He had no pistol, no rifle and killing a krogan in a knife fight sounded like a downright insane idea to him. The things he did have was a basic knowledge of chemistry, an eye for opportunity, an upgraded omni-tool, a grenade and a lot of adrenaline fueled courage. First he'd have to get to the krogan in the right spot and that would require a little insanity. Against his better judgment, he pulled his knife and looked at the krogan, purple ripples forming in the air around him as several crates began to float behind him. Anderson jumped forward and to the left as the crates started flying towards him at a deadly speed. The N7 avoided several of them as he ran towards the spot he needed to be in for this to work while the orange glow of his omni-tool coming to life allowed him to adjust the current of the overload program tp his needs. As he saw Skarr run out of crates to throw, he stopped dodging and came to a halt.

"Still got that blade from Elysium, Skarr?" he began to talk as his omni-tool remained ready. "Let's settle this the old fashioned way."

When the krogan smirked once more, he knew that his bait had worked.

"Fine by me," Skarr drew the dagger from its sheath as he wiped some of the blood out of his face, grunting in pain as he brushed against the open wound. They began to circle each other for several seconds right until Anderson stopped moving, in turn causing the krogan to stand just where he needed him to stand.

His plan was pretty simple.

When subjected to a positive electric current, Element Zero increased the mass of everything around it in relation to the strength of the current currently influencing it. As the krogan's back was turned to the device used to refine Element Zero, Anderson simply hoped that the metal used to create it was conductive. Had'dah Enterprises wasn't very big on workplace safety and ironically that might just save his own life right about now. He thrusted his hand forward as the blue electric current connected with the refining equipment, causing Skarr's expression to narrow. In theory it should've caused the object to become far heavier than its supporting structure was capable of carrying, forcing it to collapse on the krogan.

In theory.

In praxis, nothing happened.

"If you're trying to cheat," the krogan laughed, "at least hit what you're ai-"

Skarr was interrupted when something did happen. The large piece of machinery came crashing towards him as its support beams gave in, forcing him to catch it to keep it from crushing him. Element Zero needed a few moments to react to a current. He should've remembered that particular detail from his advanced chemistry class in school. However he did remember that in certain situations, like during its refining process, Element Zero was rather unstable and prone to explosions. Pulling the safety pin from his grenade, he rolled it towards the krogan before jumping as far away as he could. It was a five second fuze but he didn't account for the time he needed to get away.

One, two, three, fou-

The explosion that followed eclipsed what he had excepted to happen by a long shot. He had underestimated just how much Eezo had been stored in the refining tanks. The factory shook as pieces of the floor began to crumble around the now collapsed processor. He scanned the ground and spotted the krogan lying underneath the piece of machinery, most of his body crushed by its weight, his arms torn apart by the explosion and even more blood flowing from his wounds.

Yet somehow his eyes moved to look at Anderson as the N7 picked up his rifle.

"Heh," the krogan grunted, causing Lieutenant Anderson to spin around, almost feeling silly for believing that the krogan would attack him in this state.

"What's so funny?" Anderson asked as he leveled his SR-8 at the krogan's head.

"I'm not afraid of venturing into the void," the krogan chuckled as he coughed up orange blood. Anyone else would've long since died but Skarr had already proven that he wasn't anyone else. "I just didn't think it would happen because of something like this."

"Like what?"

"Taking a job from a crazy batarian," the krogan said as the floor underneath him began to show cracks, causing Anderson to take a step back. "You fought well."

"Kind of a weird thing to say, given the circumstances," the N7 replied as he slowly backed up more.

"Do me a favour."

"What?"

"Kill me," the krogan said as he brought down his barriers. "Right here, right now. With your toy."

Others may have done things differently. By all means Skarr would've deserved slowly burning to death for everything he had, others may have left him to suffer right until the end out of vengeance but Anderson held himself to a higher standard than that. He wasn't willing to be the kind of person he fought against, no matter how angry he was. A single round left the SR-8, putting an end to Skarr's life just before the ground gave out underneath his corpse, falling into what looked like a small, straight corridor. He didn't dare to move an inch for several seconds but when nothing else came crashing down, he let out a sigh of relief. Apparently the refinery was stable, for now. Now he only needed the Spectre to make it back to them.

When his radio came to life, a batarian laughter being transmitted from the turian's end, he knew that Saren Arterius was still somewhat busy.

* * *

 **Early 2138 CE, Camala, Had'dah Enterprises Refinery**

"I waited for you, turian," Edan Had'dah turned around and spoke as him omni-tool illuminated parts of his brown face. He had downloaded something and if the flashing message on the screen that informed everyone reading it that all files in the system had been deleted was anything to go by, getting to that omni-tool just became a priority. "He told me that others would try to keep me from fulfilling my purpose."

"Step away from the console or I'll put you down right here, right now," the batarian began to comply, one step at a time.

"You'll pay for what you did. Humans, turians, the Council you'll all burn," his voice was slightly weaker than in the recordings Saren had used to get a basic idea of the entrepreneur. He sounded almost sickly, exhausted really.

"What were you planning, Had'dah? With whom?" the Spectre said as he slowly began to close in on the batarian.

"I wasn't planning anything, I didn't need to. I was merely following instructions."

"Whose instructions?" Saren asked.

"Your ignorance will be your undoing, turian," the aristocrat replied in a humble tone,"I have seen the truth, a truth you can't comprehend."

"Try me."

"No," the batarian refused. "You're incapable of understanding. You're deeply flawed. All of us are."

Why were the people he was after always so fond of being cryptic? In the distance he could see a ladder reaching up to what might be a hatch to the surface.

His way out.

"Why did you reach out for Qian? You hate humans, why work with them?" Saren called through the room while scanning it for other targets. Just like the doctor, Edan Had'dah was rambling and just like the doctor, the parallels to Captain Haliat became very obvious, very fast.

"His skills were required for me to comprehend my findings. I didn't work with him, I used him," the batarian spoke as he turned around, four hateful eyes vanishing in the dark as the glow of his omni-tool died. "At first he was a tool in my vengeance but then he became just another pawn in his plan."

"Vengeance for your brother?" Saren recalled the interrogation of the batarian guard back on Juxhi. He already knew that Had'dah wouldn't disclose who 'he' was but he might get out other bits and pieces of information out of the batarian.

"After you filth took him from me, I looked for a way to avenge him, a way to make you suffer like I did. I found it but I also found so much more. I found something that made my desires so insignificant, so pointless."

"If they were so insignificant, why go through all the trouble?" Saren began walking closer, if he was fast enough, he could overwhelm Edan Had'dah and bring him in. "What did you find, Had'dah?"

The batarian merely began to laugh as Saren activated his radio link to Anderson in order to let him know that he was in fact still around.

"The only reason you're still alive is because you know something of value, Had'dah," Saren muttered as he took another step towards the batarian. "There's nowhere left for you to run and the only way you're getting out of here is if you give me something that makes you worth saving. It's your choice."

"It doesn't matter if I live or die, turian. Our path has been set since our ancestors first sailed through the stars. We never had a choice. None of us. Not you, not me."

"What did you find, Had'dah?"

"The truth," the batarian whispered as Saren saw something move underneath his robes. "I found the truth."

An explosive vest. Probably more than enough to bring down the whole bunker on them.

"Don't do it, you'll die" Saren said. Truthfully he'd probably enjoy shooting Had'dah but the batarian was of far more value alive. His behaviour was familiar and if they were speaking about the same truth Haliat had mentioned, his knowledge was invaluable.

"Didn't I tell you?" the batarian asked. "It doesn't matter if I live or die."

One last try to talk him out of it.

"How are you going to avenge your brother if you're dead?"

"I don't have to avenge him anymore, turian. You cannot escape your doom," his hands started to move as time slowed down in Saren's head. Before Had'dah could even think about pressing the detonator, the turian put two rounds into his head, causing his limp corpse to drop to the ground.

"Anderson, you got my position?" Saren called through the radio as he ran towards Had'dah, their omni-tools linking up just as the N7 replied.

"On my way, one minute out," the human lieutenant simply replied, the faintest sound of gunfire already audible through the radio link.

"Copy that. I'm underground," the Spectre explained as he looked at the remaining data on Had'dah's omni-tool, coordinates somewhere in the Perseus Veil, a survey report from 2135 CE and a death notification of one Heth Had'dah. "Qian and Had'dah are both dead," he said as he kept looking. The rest of his data was completely corrupted and far beyond salvage and the faint red light blinking ever faster under Had'dah's robe forced a shift of priority.

Time to get out of here. He didn't know where the hatch was going but he knew that going back was not an option. He ran to the ladder, climbing up and ripping the heavy hatch at the top of the bunker off with his biotic powers, rolling away from the opening just as a ball of fire shot up into the sky.

Two close calls in less than five minutes, that was a new personal best.

When a powerful sniper round smashed into the street next to his head, he beat his personal record immediately.

Three times in five minutes. That round would've killed him.

The screeching wheels of the dust buggy coming to a halt next to him were music to his ears. He threw himself into the back of the vehicle as Sanders fired off a series of assault rifle bursts into the direction they had come from before Anderson stepped on the gas again. Saren got up from his prone position, prepared to help fighting off whoever was after them only to sigh in frustration as he spotted the black coloured gunship.

"Iwo Jima, we're coming in hot, over," Anderson spoke as they tore through the opening in the fence they had created on their way in, the dead guards from earlier still lying in puddles of dried, dark red blood.

"Copy that ground team, you got a lot of hostiles coming your way," the reply echoed through Anderson's radio as Saren killed the driver of one of the corporate vehicles hunting them, a final jerk of his muscles causing him to ram into another dust buggy and drive both of them to roll to a stop in the desert. "We also got a transport lifting off inside the refinery. Preparing to engage. Over."

"No, don't," Saren called towards Anderson. Someone had taken his offer. " Don't engage that transport, it is not hostile. Hail it and tell them to make a run for turian space. Tell them that they can get past batarian naval patrols if they pretend to belong."

"Copy that ground team, over," a voice replied after some moments of confused hesitation.

The N7 turned to look at him, his black faceplate hiding his most likely confused expression.

"It's a long story," he explained. "Now get your eyes back on the road before you run over something besides guards."

Shrugging, Anderson returned his gaze forward, accelerating the dust buggy further.

"Iwo Jima, where are you?" the N7 asked as Saren saw a trail of gunfire impacts crawl towards them, each impact getting closer. The gunship's gunner was gaining on them, fast. This dust buggy wouldn't survive a single hit from a canon of that size and neither would he. Once more he only had one grabbed his Mantis, steading it as good as he could as Anderson jumped over yet another dune. Mid air, Saren took his shot at the canopy of the pilot and much to his surprise the gunship exploded in a fiery ball of shrapnel, Element Zero and what looked like a batarian pilot.

Sanders looked at him in utter amazement and his mandibles simply twitched in confusion while he stared at the rifle in his hands. That should not have happened. There was simply no way he was this lucky. How could that be possible?

A shadow casting itself over them informed him that it was in fact not possible.

The white writing on the hull was the first thing he saw. HSASV Iwo Jima. Then he recognized the maneuver. It was a textbook turian frigate close air support strike. Apparently the regular joint naval exercises were paying off in more than one way.

"We can't land here, ground team. The terrain is too uneven," he heard through the radio as a large, green frigate shot past them, a smoke trail appearing in the sky far above them as its point-defense systems shot down an enemy air asset. "Prepare to rerou-"

"Negative, stay in front of us, lower the ramp and get as far down as you can," Anderson corrected as Saren noticed the large dune in front of them.

"Copy that, ground team. Don't scratch our paint."

The Iwo Jima executed its part of the plan perfectly and time slowed down as Anderson stepped on the gas pedal.

"What are you doing?" Sanders asked as her eyes grew wider.

"You should probably-" Saren began before Anderson interrupted him.

"Hold on!" the N7 shouted as the Spectre braced himself. Their ride left the dune at its highest point, flying through the air and rapidly losing height as he held his breath. Gravity was quickly catching up on their little stunt.

But for once, gravity lost.

Their wheels touched down inside the hangar and Anderson stomped on the brakes, coming to a halt at the very end and drawing a long, black line across its surface.

"We got them!" he heard over the radio as the ramp at the end of the frigate began to close behind them.

They had actually gotten away.

For some reason both the Spectre and the N7 began to chuckle upon the realisation that their stunt had just worked, getting out of the dust buggy only to sit down on the hangar's floor as they burst out into all out laughter.

"You're completely crazy," Sanders stuttered as she climbed out of the dust buggy. "Both of you," she said in disbelief as she tried to keep her balance. "I don't even know what to say. This is just," she sighed before running a hand through her hair. "What the hell is wrong with you two?"

"You think this was bad? You weren't here on the way to the refinery," Saren replied as he drew in a breath, got up and took a step before the ridiculousness of the situation once more overwhelmed him, causing him to lean against the side of the dust buggy.

That would be an interesting report to write.

* * *

 _Codex: Element Zero_

 _The material needed to maniplate the mass effect, sometimes mistaken for a nactual periodical element, is used by applying either a positive or negative electric current to release dark energy in order to either increase or decrease the mass of something._

 _Some people claim that Eezo is the lifeblood of the galactic community, these people would be right. Element Zero is needed to enable faster-than-light travel without time dilation and finds uses in manufacturing incredibly durable construction materials It is also used to generate artificial gravity, applied in all armed forces across the galaxy, forms the basis of many advanced medicine procedures and can even be used to produce highly effective tooth brushes._

 _The material, commonly generated when a planet is affected by the energy of a star going super nova, is commonly found in asteroids ,such as Omega, but planetary deposits, such as those on Thessia or Camala, are known to exist and have an impact on the galactic economy._

 _Element Zero is conductive material that manifests itself as a bluish powder when brought into contact with air, for example due to leaking from a spaceship engine. It possesses a mutagenic effect and is the source of biotic powers but can also cause deadly illnesses such as cancer. Refining Eezo can turn dangerous due to a critical stage in the purification process causing the material to become highly reactive for a short period, an effect brought under control once the process is finished but still considered risky enough to prohibit workers from being anywhere near a processing unit._

* * *

 **Chapter 28!**

 **Faster than expected and far longer than expected. Neat, isn't it?**

 **What remains of Revelation is the conclusion, something I'll get to as fast as I can because there is still one scene that already would've taken place in the novel that I deliberatly saved until the very end.**

 **As you can tell, this is a very different end result to the book's climax. Saren did not blow up an entire factory and Anderson has no reason to hate him whatsoever. This is the one thing I wanted to make different about Revelation.**

 **I don't see how my Saren could've done the shit he did in that book and I outright refuse to suddenly make him a bad guy because plot demands it. Everything my characters do is going to be a logical action for them.**

 **What can I say, at long last we get back to a bit of reaper-y dialoge, something I enjoy writing very much. People told me they really liked how I put the horror and general uneasiness back into the reapers in this fic and that's something I hope I managed to get right again. I think that the reapers, due to messing with your head, are something incredibly creepy and I try to give the scenes that their thralls appear in that feeling.**

 **Tell me what you thought about the fact that this chapter has so much action, I really enjoyed writing Anderson and Saren, even if it got a bit silly at the end there. I just could picture that scene so clearly in my head that I had to put it out for you guys. Hope I managed that as well.**

 **For the record we're at 218 reviews (mostly because of D72 who took the time to review a lot of chapters as he read through the story, shoutout to you man, I appreciate you giving me my fix), 409 favorites and 497 follows.**

 **As always, let me know what you think.**

 **See you around next time.**


	29. Social Drinking

**Chapter. 29 Social Drinking**

* * *

 **20\. January 2396 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy**

The trip back from Camala had been divided between a visit to the medical bay to pick up painkillers, receiving a complaint from the Iwo Jima's captain for in fact scratching the paint of his frigate's hangar, being told that he had nearly crushed Saren Arterius with a krogan and earning the turian's congratulations on actually killing Skarr shortly afterwards, who only asked Anderson to warn him next time he'd attempt to blow up an Element Zero factory above his head. Then he had been asked to prepare a detailed report on the events, a task he had tackled with the help of Lieutenant Sanders and which had consumed the last few hours of sleep he could've gotten on the Iwo Jima in order to be completed. Once the ship had docked on the Citadel, Sanders and himself had been asked to get to the human embassy as soon as possible, parting ways with the Spectre who in turn had been called to his own superiors.

Looking back on just what they had accomplished and considering everything put against them, Anderson realised that they had gotten off Camala remarkably unscathed while achieving a very nearly impossible task in the process. Qian was silenced, the public image of the HSA was preserved since no data had been leaked and apparently they had helped Saren Arterius in stopping a terror attack on the Citadel in the process. Their cooperation had paid off for both sides. The good guys had gotten what they wanted and the bad guys had been stopped once again. Right now the N7 was on his way to the ambassador to be debriefed, having been selected to precede the most likely much longer session dedicated to Kahlee Sanders. Anderson knew he should feel really good about himself right now.

But if he was honest with himself, he felt the opposite of that.

The moment he had entered the embassy, leaving Kahlee Sanders outside, he had been informed that the divorce from his wife, which was rooted in the fact that he was hardly ever around because of his profession, had been finalised. While he had known that it was only a matter of time for this moment to arrive and had come to terms with the idea of being divorced some time ago, it still stung now that it was actually here. The N7 already had a very clear idea of where he'd go once he was dismissed, it was an old human tradition to drown your sorrows with alcoholic beverages. Who was he to go against such an integral part of his species culture?

Now, for the third time in the last few weeks, he was about to step inside Ambassador Goyle's office, an action that had previously put him in some quite unfavorable situations. This time would be different, at least he hoped that it would be. After all, the third time was supposed to be the charm, maybe the universe would work in his favour for once. When the door opened and he wasn't greeted with yet another stranger, Anderson was optimistic. The blonde woman sitting behind her desk, once more indulged in work, was the only other person in the room and as such the chance of being surprised three times in a row seemed small.

"Staff Lieutenant Anderson," she greeted before looking up from her terminal. "I heard you were back. Please, sit down," the ambassador suggested and the N7 did exactly that. "First of all, I'd like to congratulate you on your success. From what I've gathered by reading your report, the odds were everything but in your favour. Remarkable work."

"I had help," Anderson shrugged as he fought the urge to lean back, keeping his back straight instead. After all, falling asleep during a meeting with the ambassador would kill any chance of every being promoted past Staff Lieutenant. He didn't plan on snuffing out his career just yet. "Without the Spectre, things would've gone differently."

"He was the one who went after Qian, yes?" the woman asked.

"Yes," the Lieutenant nodded, a slight pain traveling through his neck in the process causing him to tense up. "I stayed with Sanders while he pursued both Qian and Had'dah," he explained as he rubbed his neck."

"Do you think Qian told him anything about his work?" Goyle's eyes narrowed. "Did Arterius show any changes in behaviour aboard the Iwo Jima?"

"I don't think so," Anderson replied. He knew that this particular conversation would not occur right now if he had been the one to take care of Qian. Goyle had supported going to Arterius for help under the condition that he was kept in the dark about Qian's actual job. Because the doctor turned traitor had died, or from what the Spectre had told him committed suicide, in Anderson's absence, Anita Goyle probably feared that Doctor Qian may have spilled his secrets before killing himself. He understood where she was coming form but from what Saren had told him, Qian had rambled about seemingly random things before blowing his head off with a salarian spy device. Since the Spectre struck him as the kind of person that would've confronted him about something as serious as breaking the AI ban, the lack of such a conversation reinforced that version of the events.

"Good," Goyle sighed in relief. "We'll keep an ear to the ground for a few more weeks, just to be sure nothing got leaked." The woman got up from her chair and walked a few steps before turning on her heel to face the N7 once more, curiosity on her face. "How would you describe your experience with this kind of work? I know you were far from comfortable with using Lieutenant Sanders as bait but other than that, how did you feel about what you were doing on Camala?"

He knew exactly what this was and considered his answer carefully. Some time ago Anderson had been told that he was in fact one of several soldiers being considered as the first human Spectre and that this mission would factor into the final choice of the committee tasked with selecting their candidate. On the one hand, he couldn't argue with the results. The mission had been a success and by the looks of it everyone on his side, including the HSA's image, had survived Camala. He had killed a krogan in single combat, fought of several batarians without the Spectre's hand and ensured their getaway to top it off. But on the other hand he knew that without the Spectre's convincing, he would've never gotten close to Qian in the first place. Had Anderson been alone, he would've shot Skarr the moment he had picked up Sanders by her throat. Therefore eliminating the reason for them to go to the factory in the first place.

"It was different than what I'm used to," he spoke, "and I feel like things would've gone very differently without Arterius."

"How come?"

One of the many things Anderson had learned during his years in the military was that it was incredibly important to recognize your mistakes and admit to your weaknesses. It had kept him alive. He knew what he could do and he knew with what he'd struggle. It was a lesson he had learned early on, a lesson that had stuck with him through time. The lieutenant wasn't afraid to be self critical, even if his answer would most likely deal a heavy blow to the question as to whether or not he'd be a good fit for the Spectres.

"I most likley would've pulled the trigger too early," he admitted. "I wasn't willing to put Sanders into the situation she needed to be in to lead us to Qian," he paused as he rubbed his neck. "The assignment wasn't the issue. Neither was the danger I was in or the foes I was facing."

"It was your attachment to Sanders," Goyle commented. "Or rather your general dislike about putting a bystander into the line of fire."

He nodded.

"When I'm in the field as an N7, I know that everyone around me is not only willing to put their life at risk, I know that they have the skills to do so with a reasonable chance to survive. With Sanders, that was different. She's was a technical officer doing the work of a spy."

"You were the one who argued that she might be needed in the field," Goyle reminded him as she raised her eyebrow.

"She needed to be there," Anderson simply replied, not disclosing why the lieutenant's presence was needed. It wasn't his place to talk about her guilt to someone else.

"But you still struggled with actually having her there?"

"Yes," he once more nodded.

"I understand where you're coming from, Lieutenant Anderson," she replied sincerely as she looked to back to her desk or more accurately to her terminal. "Gambling with a life is never easy, especially if the chances are stacked against you. I'm going to ask you another question and I'll need an honest answer from you."

"What is it, ambassador?" he already had a hunch.

"Do you think you could do this again and again? Do you think you could be a Spectre?"

Once more the lessons that had stuck with him through the years took command of his answer.

"I don't know," he stated in a clear, certain voice. "I can't tell you that right now."

The ambassador merely nodded, not pushing for either a 'yes' or a 'no', an action he was thankful for because truthfully, he didn't know if he could live as the kind of person a Spectre needed to be. Saren Arterius was by no means a bad person, if anything he displayed more heroic tendencies than the N7 himself but deep down Anderson knew that he lacked the kind of drive that caused the turian to be just as ruthless as the people he fought against if the situation called for it. David Anderson prided himself in never going against his moral compass. If an action was wrong, he wouldn't take it. Even in face of the worst situations, he had never abandoned his principles, always sticking to the code that had brought him home time and again from each of his missions. No matter how tough times were, he always held on to the ideals that formed the very foundation of his character and always tried to make the world around him a better place in the process.

He didn't know if he could hold onto those as a Spectre and neither did he know if he could let go of them if a mission required him to do so. Such an internal turmoil would not only be dangerous for him, it might put even more lives at risk when push came to shove. Before he could answer the ambassador's question, he needed to figure out the answer of his own problem.

"I can't thank you enough for your part in this mess, Lieutenant," Goyle said as she extended her hand to him which caused him to get up before grabbing and shaking it.

"There's nothing to thank me for, I was just doing my job," he replied. Anderson had never expected praise for the things he did, to him it was all part of being an N7. He did the things he did so others wouldn't have to.

"You were doing much more than that and you made quite the impression in the process," the woman disagreed, a small beep from his omni-tool informing him that he had received new contact information, "once you know if you could be a Spectre, come back to me," she added as he nodded firmly before letting go of her hand. "If there is nothing else you'd like to say, you're dismissed. Enjoy your time off."

"Good bye, ambassador," he replied in a sincere tone as he walked towards the door of her office.

"Good bye, Staff Lieutenant Anderson," she echoed before he closed the door.

And just like that, he found himself walking out of the embassy building, the goal in his mind the first Rapid Transit station that could find. Right about now the only thing David Anderson wanted to with his life was to get ridiculously drunk at the cheapest bar he could find. He had been in Chora's Den a few times already, the krogan bouncer there had a soft spot for humans, even if they came alone, and as such he was confident that he'd get inside. The objective of his next mission was to get as hammered as he possibly could without blacking out and being robbed blind by some Lower Wards thug. He took a couple of steps through the embassy area as he looked for one of the automated rides before another familiar voice caught his attention.

"You were just gonna disappear on me like that?" Sanders asked as she walked towards him with a smile, most likely on her way to her very own debriefing. "No farewell, no good bye, not even a see ya?" she joked, causing him to crack a faint smile. "After all those endless hours we spent on that report, I thought we'd be closer. Be honest, is it Arterius?"

"We bonded during the ride to get you," he countered as he decided to go along with her less than serious approach. "There's only room for one mission partner in my heart and he seized it the moment he brought me that dust buggy," Anderson explained with a very serious tone before he began to chuckle at his own joke, causing both of them to share a laugh.

"I never thanked you for getting me in on the mission, did I?" Sanders asked once they regained their composure.

"You didn't have to," he shook his head. "You needed to be there to see this mess through. I've been where you are right now," he smiled, hiding all but the slightest trace of guilt in his voice. "It gets better with time, trust me."

"But it never really goes away, does it?" she raised an eyebrow. Kahlee Sanders was far too observant for his liking.

He had lost a few friends over the years, that was simply a part of the job and as such he had come to terms with death, at least on most occasions. Losing his best friend was something that Anderson never quite came to terms with, it had left a permanent mark on him. Master Chief Santino Abrami had died almost eight years ago but the memory of his final moments was still etched in Anderson's mind, countless of times the lieutenant had asked himself if something he could've done would've allowed him to save the man who had saved him time and again, if he could've switched places with him, if he could've stopped it at the last possible second. He knew that Sanders was asking herself pretty much the same questions but he suspected that her guilt was even bigger than his. She had gotten away in the nick of time and he knew that if he was in her shoes, he'd blame himself for running away, even if it was far from the truth. At least he had been there when Santino died, the technical officer couldn't claim the same thing and that made it all the more difficult for her.

"Are you going to be ok?" he asked as he looked at her.

"I think so," she shrugged as her smile grew a little less bright. "Not now but eventually."

They lingered next to each other for a few, pleasantly silent seconds as Anderson struggled to come up with an answer. Nothing he could say would bring any of the people who died on Sidon back to life and neither could he utter a few words and make Sanders understandable survivor's guilt vanish.

"I should get going," the lieutenant muttered, before Anderson had made up his mind. "Goyle is probably waiting for me and I think I already irritated her more than enough last time."

"She didn't seem that angry," he shrugged. "You'll be fine," Anderson ensured the woman.

"I'll see you around, David," the blonde woman's smile returned as she began to walk away. "Hopefully sooner than later."

"Take care, Kahlee."

She was a remarkable woman, at least in his opinion. Not only had she discovered a potentially catastrophic threat to the HSA but had also displayed a degree of bravery he had never witnessed before. He admired her and he had a feeling that she returned that admiration towards him. They both knew that there was something more than a companionship between them but right now neither couldn't act on it and so Anderson began his journey to Chora's Den. Just another thing he'd like to forget for today.

* * *

 **Early 2138 CE, Citadel, Office of Councilor Idril**

"You seem to hold this Lieutenant Anderson in high regards," the salarian said as his hand rested just underneath his mouth, "according to your report, he played a crucial role in ensuring your escape."

"He's a very capable soldier," the Spectre nodded as he folded his hands behind the small of his back, "and a very good get-away driver. Never seen someone drive that crazy and come out to tell the tale."

The old salarian chuckled with a sense of familiarity as if he had been in a similar situation at some point in his life, which seemed unlikely and very plausible at the same time given the questions Saren had about him. Something about Idril didn't seem quite right to the Spectre, he just couldn't figure out what it was. When it was just the two of them, the councilor appeared to be better at Saren's job than he was himself, providing useful advice and insight into the work of a Spectre while being able to relate to the situations Saren found himself in far better than a politician, or really anyone outside his line of work, should be able to.

Furthermore small things about the salarian didn't quite fit the person he was supposed to be either. He had rather muscular frame for a salarian of his age and while that may be explained through a disciplined physical routine, a curious looking cut on his arm barely visible under his robe and a generally strange attidute at times all raised questions Saren couldn't find conclusive answers to. Maybe these things were all part of a series of coincidences or maybe there was a logical explanation behind each and every one of them. Maybe he was just overthinking the subject at hand. Or maybe all these little things were evidence of something else entirely, something that would raise even more questions.

When they were outside of the public eye, Councilor Idril struck Saren as different from the person he was portraying to the galaxy, even if his off the record background checks had all but confirmed that the red-coloured amphibian was in fact 'just' the career politican hailing from a rather influential dalatrass family he claimed to be. Yet every time Saren received a briefing or debriefing from the salarian, small holes appeared in a narrative that was otherwise perfect, small holes that made Saren think that Idril had been a lot of things in his life but never a politician.

"You know you'll soon be able to supervise a candidate in the field should you chose to do so?" the salarian questioned as he looked at his omni-tool, only catching Saren's nod thanks to his ability to multitask beyond anything the Spectre had ever seen outside of the salarian species. "The decision to induct someone into the Spectres has to be made carefully. Few apply, even less are suited. It would be your duty to find those that are."

"I know," he replied somewhat distracted as he looked around the office, pictures, personal affects and certificates linked to Idril's name strangely absent. The offices of both Benezia and Ioventus, who was currently supervising the former Primarch Sparatus that had been chosen to suceed him by the Council of Primarchs, were proudly bearing the milestones of their political, academical and military careers, displaying them to everyone who walked inside as a way of informing them that they were in fact more than qualified for the duties that came with being a councilor.

Idril had never had displayed anything like that. His office wasn't decorated in any way, it was spartan, even by turian standards. Looking back it had been that way ever since the first time Saren had set foot inside the room and it hadn't changed a bit over the course of the last few years.

It might be a personal choice, it might be a cultural choice. He knew certain salarians were incredibly humble and opposed to ever admitting to the good things they did during their lives and were unwilling to present them to the public because they presumed that to be a way of bragging but those salarians rarely if ever became politicians, let alone councilors. To even be considered for the position of representing their entire their own species, in essence becoming the face of their people to the galactic community, one needed to be a shining example of the values of their race, an incredibly public figure out for everyone to admire and relate to, not someone opposed to presenting their achievements.

"From this report, I'd presume that Lieutenant Anderson might catch your interest?" the councilor asked. "Even if he 'collapsed a krogan' on you," the salarian air quoted. He knew it wasn't the most formal report to ever leave his omni-tool but he had written it as fast and detailed as he possibly could aboard the Iwo Jima. On the trip back to the Citadel there hadn't been enough time to consider the way he could have phrased certain events differently, he had been occupied on by very different matter, a matter still clouding his mind at the moment.

'The truth'.

A concept mentioned by the late Captain Haliat several years ago and once more brought up by both Had'dah and Qian. All three had behaved very similar although they were very different people with very different mindsets and backgrounds. Each of them had been convinced of what they had been talking about but not in the way an insane person was convinced of their own delusions. No, Haliat, Had'dah and Qian, while insane, had been as convinced of this 'truth' as Saren himself was of one and one making two. There had been a method to their madness. The situation had caused Saren to once more view the recordings made by Elanos Haliat and compare them to the more recent audio files his omni-tool had captured during the mission on Camala, an action that had only sown even more worry in his mind in regards to the things these three people had said.

Doctor Qian had told Saren that he'd experience the thing they were talking about within in his life time and the human had been convinced that it was so incredibly horrifying that death would have been the preferable option. In comparison, Haliat had spoken about how the artifact could create a new breed of turians able to endure 'what's to come', a reasonable reaction in face of the kind of odds that had driven the doctor mad due to the turian's background. Blackwatch was trained to face the impossible. Then, like the batarian, Haliat had mentioned how insignificant they were compared to 'it', which might have been the thing Qian had told him he wouldn't be ablet o stop.

But the similarities between these cases hadn't stopped there. Had'dah had spoken about the concept of doom as well while completely abandoning the desire for vengeance that had driven him to the actions which had alerted Saren to him in the first place. His personal drive had been wiped away and replaced by a sober acceptance of something he believed to be unchangeable, something Haliat had experienced in a less severe way most likley due to his more resilient mind. Furthermore both the aristocrat and the turian soldier had spoken of events set into place long before their time, Had'dah had called described it as a path set before his ancestors sailed the stars and Haliat had described this concept as one already present before the turians first rose to civilization on Palaven. Both had believed into a kind of predestination for their people.

All of these similarities further confirmed that Desolas was right. Something was coming for them and by the sound of it, it would arrive incredibly soon and threaten everyone in its path.

"Agent Arterius?" the salarian asked.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you'd consider Staff Lieutenant Anderson to be a viable candidate for the Spectres."

That was one of the things his brother had asked him to do as a Spectre. Ensure that a human became a member of their ranks to give the HSA a viable claim to a seat on the Council and in turn allow them to bolster up their military to prepare for the fight that was to come. He was on the verge of being considered as an agent with enough experience to begin the field training of a new candidate and as such he had actually been waiting for human politicians to bring up the subject. Sending someone to try out for the Spectres was a difficult process and besides members of the races holding a seat on the Council, only the quarians had ever managed to find their footing into the organisation before their people and society fell prey to their own creations and ambition. They had been the only other race to ever induct agents into the ranks of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch.

But they were not the only ones who had tried. The Batarian Hegemony had time and again asked to send their own candidates to field training but the Council had denied these requests throughout history as both a very public protest against the batarian government and its behaviour and a political play to keep them from having an actual claim on a seat on the Council, something that would be an utter disaster for the galactic community. The last things the galaxy needed were even more arrogant batarians.

Fortunately for the galaxy, the blessing of the Citadel Council was needed before a species could request their finest to even be considered as viable candidates. This need for permission was necessary because it was generally accepted that having active Spectres was one of the most important steps a race had to take before receiving a seat on the council. Saren was certain that humanity would receive that permission should they ask for it since they already did more to uphold the galactic community than most other associates, with the exception of the volus who had created the galactic economy out of nothing and continued to ensure its stability, and in his eyes it wasn't a stretch to assume that they'd be able to step up to the responsibilities of a council seat. He could give humanity a push into the right direction if he took a human under his wing. At least as long as he picked the right candidate. If he chose someone unsuited, it might push them into the wrong direction.

"He's an exceptional soldier, there's no doubt in that," he said. "But I think his morales and principles might stand in the way of his full potential."

"How come?" the salarian asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"He's very good in the field, he's got good instincts and a lot of courage. All traits needed to be a Spectre. But he has trouble with keeping his personal values from interfering with his mission."

"Common problem. Only few individuals can shut off their moral compass for the sake of the mission," the salarian nodded before picking up on something in Saren's expression. "But the inability to go against one's own principles is not a necessarily bad trait. Especially for a Spectre."

There it was again, the insight he shouldn't have but still possessed. Idril had a point and it was a good one.

"What do you mean by that, Councilor Idril?" Saren asked.

"You operate in the darkest corners of the galaxy and see the worst things it has to offer. That can change you," the salarian explained. "Sometimes principles are the only thing keeping you on the right path and staying on the right path is one of the most important things for someone operating without any checks in place."

"So you're saying he's a good fit?" the turian asked as he looked out of the window the salarian was looking through, the evergreen scenery of the Presidium looming in the distance as the artificial blue sky slowly started to grow darker due to the evening protocols kicking in and altering its appearance in the process.

"I am not the one who has to make that decision, Agent Arterius," Idril simply replied. In that the salarian was more than right. If he supervised a candidate, it would be his call to make as to whether or not that person would make a good Spectre. But before that it was the candidate's call to apply in the first place and before either of the two it was humanity's call to send a candidate to begin with. The salarian's omni-tool beeped as he received a message, causing him to summon the orange holographic display out of thing air. "And at the moment it is not a decision you can make either. I think it would do you some good to put your thoughts back into order, you must have quite a lot on your mind. The conversations with your targets must've gotten you thinking. I'm sure your brother would like a word about it in due time, after all he's been rather focused on the same subject for quite a while now."

Saren's eyes widened in surprise as he looked at the salarian who now had turned his head to him with the faintest of smirks.

"How do you know about that?" Saren asked as he recovered.

"Take the next few days off, Agent Arterius," the councilor began as he looked out of the window once more, his large eyes staring at something in the distance as he let out a single cough.

"What's your part in this Councilor Idril?" he pressed on. He knew that Desolas had been making contacts with certain groups to build up the galaxy's strength from the shadows. Maybe the councilor was part of such a group or maybe he had simply figured out that something was going on by himself.

"For now just know that I'm on your brother's side. You'll learn the rest eventually," the salarian shrugged as he pulled down his hood, revealing even more scars and answering Saren's question in the process.

"I'd like to learn it now," the turian muttered as his curiosity got the better of him. If Desolas had been in touch with someone as powerful as a councilor it would mean that his brother had better connections than Saren could've possibly suspected.

"Suggest you go to," he once more looked at his omni-tool, "Chora's Den. Get some drinks, get a clear mind. Consider it your next assignment," the salarian went on as his speech pattern now changed noticeably. "Used to help me."

"Why that place?"

"You'll figure it out once you're there," Idril offered while his back remained turned towards Saren, the lights in the office turning on as they registered the growing darkness creeping in from the outside.

The turian simply nodded, walking out of the salarian's office with a direction, some answers and even more questions.

* * *

 **20\. January 2396 AD, Citadel, Chora's Den**

The bouncer hadn't given him any trouble and with the fourth empty glass hitting the table in the center of the bar he was well on his way to achieve the goal of his newest mission. Shortly after leaving the embassy, while riding one of the many automated skycars making up the Rapid Transit system of the Citadel, he had been notified that he had exactly two days of leave before the Hastings would pick him up again and he'd be able to dive into his work once more to further distract himself. Until then he'd try to spent as little time as possible thinking about his ex-wife and as much time as possible doing literally anything else. He didn't feel like actually dealing with the issue at hand for once and in Anderson's own mind he had earned himself the right to ignore it for the time being.

Ordering the fifth glass from the salarian bartender he prepared himself to further increase the amount of alcohol flowing through his blood stream until the realisation that someone was now standing next to him tore his focus away from the glass in his hand.

"Drinking alone?" the turian asked as he shook his head towards an asari behind the bar, not ordering himself a drink for the time being. Saren Arterius leaned against the bar, resting his arms on the polished metal dividing the crowd from the bartenders, still wearing his suit of armor. He hadn't expected company and if he would've been sober he would most likely have asked just how the turian had found him. The Citadel was the biggest station in the galaxy and the chances of him simply running into Anderson by chance ranged from miniscule to downright impossible.

But since he wasn't sober he didn't really care about all of that.

"Yeah," he shrugged as he slowly spun the glass in his hand, causing the liquid inside to move in circles.

"What's the occasion?" the turian questioned as he turned towards Anderson, looking at the already empty glasses standing in front of him. "You've obviously been at it for quite some time now so I'm going to assume that it's not a good one."

"Freshly divorced," the N7 declared as he raised his glass to his mouth, sipping at its content for a moment before lowering it. "Just go the final decree of divorce from my now ex-wife," the N7 explained as he downed the rest of its content. "Now it's definitely over."

"Oh," the turian muttered. "I'm sorry?" he offered with a bit of uncertainty. While the turian was far more capable than Anderson when it came to combat and field work, it was also very evident that the human was still nearly a decade older than him. The Spectre lacked a lot of the life experiences Anderson had already gathered in the years he was ahead of Saren Arterius.

"Don't be, not your fault," he sighed as he ran a hand through his short brown hair before lapsing in a short silence. "She just couldn't deal with me being away all the time, I get it. It sucks but I get it."

"Ours is not an easy road," Saren argued. "We go through things most people will never understand."

"But we do it so they don't have to," Anderson finished his line of thought, causing the Spectre to nod in agreement.

"We'll need people like you in the future," Saren suddenly said. "I'm afraid that things won't stay the way the are right now for much longer and the galaxy could use someone like you, someone who sticks to their ideals no matter the situation."

"What are you getting at, Saren?" Anderson asked as he ran his finger along the edge of his empty glass.

"I'm not blind. Part of the motivation behind us working together was to give you a taste at the work of a Spectre," the turian shrugged, "if you get the chance, take it. You did good."

"The hell I did. I would've jumped the gun on Skarr," Anderson chuckled as he looked at the lights reflecting of his glass. "I would've blown the mission and our chance at getting to the targets if you hadn't stopped me. My ideals stood in the way of my mission."

"You would've done things differently to begin with," the turian countered as Anderson set his glass down. "Camala went down like that because I was the one dictating the terms of the mission. If it would've been your assignment, you would've never put Sanders into the line of fire to begin with. If I learned one thing out of the experience of nearly being crushed by a krogan you blew up," the turian said as Anderson let out a little chuckle, "it's that you do things differently. I had a talk with someone who told me that the ideals that make you who you are might not be an obstacle at all."

"I'm too drunk and too tired to interpret that," the N7 admitted as he raised one of his fingers at the turian.

"They'll keep you on the right path no matter what the galaxy throws at you, I know they will. Staying on the right path is worth more than pragmatism, Anderson, and if anyone can stick to their principles in spite of the things people like us do, it's you," Saren explained. "I can't tell you why we'll need people who are as grounded as you are but I can tell you that we'll need them. Soon."

"That's really fucking cryptic," David Anderson sighed.

"I know," the turian chuckled, "just think about it, alright?" Saren muttered.

He considered the turian's words. While there was an urgency hidden behind them some might assume to be of manipulative nature, there was also honesty, a lot of honesty. Saren, for one reason or another, was convinced that Anderson would be a good fit and as the N7 repeated his words inside his mind, something inside him shifted, doubts were replaced by new found certainty and a previous lack of purpose vanished to make room for the idea of possibly making the galaxy a little brighter. One assignment with a Spectre had stopped a terrorist from unleashing his wrath on the Citadel and saved the HSA from public humiliation and political sanctions. It had made a difference, more so than most of his N7 assignments.

"Fine. I'll do it," he finally replied.

"I told you to think about it."

"I thought about it and now I'll do it," the N7 pointed out.

"I can live with that," the turian said as he held up his hand towards the bartender who recogized the gesture and reached below the bar. "Back to the issue at hand then."

"What are you doing?" Anderson asked as he looked at his turian companion while the bartender handed him a long cylinder of dextro alcohol in one hand and a fresh glass of whiskey in the other.

"Human and turian culture are very similar in some aspects," the Spectre smirked as he gave the fresh glass of whiskey to the N7. Now held up the blue coloured, dextro alcohol. "We drink when things are bad," he added, "and besides I can't let you drink by yourself. It looks sad and pathetic. If we do it together, it's social drinking, which is completely acceptable."

"To what do we socially drink then?" Anderson chuckled as the Spectre turned towards him and handed him the glass.

"To better times," Saren raised his own tube of blue liquid into the air and towards the N7.

"Hmm, better times," Anderson mused as he realised where the Spectre was going. "I'll drink to that," he chuckled as their glasses collided, setting of their first round together, a round that was followed by another, then another and another and another after that. Sure enough time began to blur together with each round and eventually Anderson found himself waking up on a couch as rays of artificial light found their way through the window and right into his face, the hazy image of parting ways with an equally drunk Saren Arterius some hours ago and renting this room only returning to him as he saw the jacket of his dress uniform partially blocking the window inside the room, the blinds placed above it wide open and unused. He had never been susceptible to hangovers in the past but if the headache he felt right now and his inability to do something as simple as lowering blinds was anything to go by, he was having a one right now, a really bad one. He rubbed his brow as small drops of sweat touched his hand and tried to remember the events that had occurred after their fourth round to no avail. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't recall what had happened after a certain point but luckily for him he did remember the most important conclusion of the conversation that had taken place before their first round had set of the series of events that had let him into this room, and as such he began looking for a contact on his omni-tool, a bit of joy washing over him as he found it.

Maybe she was up already. Only one way to find out.

A groan escaped his mouth as the orange light of his omni-tool hit his still sensitive eyes before he began to type his message for the woman, only noticing the fact that he was missing at least ten hours worth of memories once he read the time displayed by the digital clock in the corner of the holographic display. It was noon already, he had left for Chora's Den sometime during yesterday's early evening. What in god's name had he been doing from the time between meeting Saren and waking up in this room? He shook his head in an effort to clear it but when that didn't work either, he chose to focus on what he had originally set out to do when opening his omni-tool. Once more resuming his work on the message for the blonde woman, he opted for a shorter approach and deleted what he had already typed. He didn't need to write an essay, he just needed to get his intention across. She'd get it.

'I made up my mind. Count me in,' he typed before sending the message to Ambassador Goyle, figuring to might as well look around the room to pass some time while he waited for a reply. However that decision was rendered irrelevant as he received a new message mere moments after reaching for his jacket. He could've guessed she'd be this fast, after all she was always working when he had seen her and since it was noon already, she had probably been awake for quite some time now.

'Good. Consider yourself the final candidate,' he read with a smile, the earlier doubts still absent. He knew he would've regretted not taking a chance like that some time down the line.

He pulled his jacket from the window, causing even more light to flood into the room as Anderson rubbed the last bit of sleep out of his eyes only to double back at the sight of the Presidium. How had they gotten up here from the Lower Wards? He had assumed that he was still down there right until removing his makeshift curtain. Once more deciding that he probably couldn't answer that question, the N7 slung his jacket over his shoulder before turning on his heel and walking out of the hotel. There was no need to stay here any longer. He needed to prepare for his pick up anyway and maybe he'd even remember the rest of the night while he sorted things out. If nothing else he could always contact the Spectre, he'd be able to fill in the blanks.

At least that's what the N7 hoped for.

A few hours, one chat with an equally clueless turian, a packed footlocker and several cups of coffee later that hope would start to disappear. Anderson would only learn bits and pieces of the things Saren and him had done during their first of many nights of 'social drinking' over the course of the following years, picking up stories and accounts that slowly created an incredible tale no sane person would wish to be part of.

Not that any of these stories would prevent the two from doing it again and again.

* * *

 **Early 2138 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

"I agree, it was time," Desolas shrugged as he looked at the projection of the salarian in front of him. "Although you could've been a bit less cryptic about it, Cozek."

"You know me, I like being cryptic," the salarian chuckled before coughing. He hadn't been in the best shape as of late, something that worried Desolas not only because of his position on the council and the value associated with it but also because he considered the former STG agent to be one of his friends. While his replacement had already been briefed on the situation, already working hand in hand with Cozek's contacts, it still seemed strange to the general that the red-skinned amphibian would only be around for a few more years at best. Such was the reality of a short-lived species, while Cozek was only slightly older than Desolas but much closer to death already. "Have the humans found anything?" he asked, taking the general back to the conversation.

"No, they are just as lost as we are. Worse even, Qian was one of their top scientists. There's no telling what kind of damage he did behind the scenes. Two people exactly like Haliat are not good," the turian general sighed. "Your STG contacts found nothing pointing to an artifact either did they?"

"No. Yours?"

"Nothing," Desolas replied with a frustrated tone. "We managed to trace Had'dah's steps back to the Perseus Veil thanks to Saren's data but there's nothing at those coordinates. Whatever the surveyors found, it's no longer there. Nothing close to the size of the object mentioned in the survey report was orbiting the planet. Unless it flew away, it should be there."

"Geth could've taken it into possession," the salarian suggested as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Or Had'dah Enterprises destroyed it to remove evidence," he gestured with one of his hands.

Ever since his little brother had exposed the head of the company as a maniac with plans to attack the Citadel Council, Had'dah Enterprises had been the target of an army of C-SEC prosecutors looking to dismantle the concern as a response. It wasn't such a stretch that they'd blow something up that could incriminate them even further. On the other hand the geth were a reasonable possibility as well. No one knew just what they were doing beyond the Perseus Veil, deep within in their space. If Had'dah found something with abilities akin to the artifacts, the geth might have moved it away from the rest of the galaxy and into their home space to study it. They certainly possessed the means to transport something of that size but whether or not that was a good thing would remain to be seen. While they hadn't left their space for nearly three centuries, they hadn't played nice with organics either. If the managed to figure out how the artifacts work, their behaviour might change.

"Either way, we got to figure out what he found and we need to step up our game. Qian said that Saren would live to see it, that means whatever the Harbinger is planning could happen at any moment."

"Had'dah mentioned predestination, something Haliat did as well," the salarian observed. "Qian and Haliat also both spoke of our lack of understanding. Their truth seems to be centered around our misunderstanding of something we consider a fact."

"I noticed that as well," the general said as sat in his office, looking at the empty seat across of him. "If we were to figure out what that misconception is that they're talking about, maybe we'd get a better idea of what they are talking about."

"We should look into the works of scientific freelancers," Cozek suggested. "People diverging from accepted truths."

"You want to look through the works of conspiracy theorists?" the general said with a hint of doubt. "Most freelancers might as well be fantasy authors given the things they claim to have proven."

"Correct," the salarian admitted. "Yet one of them might have the right idea. Ancient salarian society mocked the first mind to dream of a world besides Sur'kesh, she turned out to be right. Can't afford to ignore an angle because it seems unlikely from our current point of view."

Desolas sighed once more. "I'll get my people on it," he was able to see the logic behind Cozek's line of thought. Freelancers were dismissed for outlandish theories considered false by the scientific community and Qian and Haliat had both pointed out a major misconception within that very community. A member of the community wouldn't be able to see what they were seeing, someone outside of it however may just have the right idea. A different perspective could go a long way in situations such as these and they needed every advantage they could have.

"Good," the salarian nodded before once more coughing, this time only catching his breath after several attempts.

"You should get some rest, Cozek."

"Already slept earlier. This is more pressing, need to get this done. Can rest later."

"Stubborn bastard," the general muttered. Not that he'd behave any different from Cozek.

"I'll draft up a list of potential individuals of interest as well, will focus on salarian and asari individuals."

"Seriously Cozek, you should slow down a bit, you don't look so good. Let me handle this," Desolas once more voiced his concerned, worry in his voice. One of the leading cases of death for elderly salarians was overexhaustion. Salarians tended to live their lives on fast forward but there came a point in their lives when their body wasn't able to keep up with their mind, causing them to unknowingly overwork themselves.

"Will be fine," the salarian insisted. The reaction was to be expected, people like him didn't like to slow down.

"Keep an eye on my brother for now, I'll handle this," he offered as Cozek sighed at his suggestion.

"Will pass on the drafting of the list to one of my contacts," the councilor finally accepted Desolas' advice.

"Good. It would be a shame if a cold killed your scrawny ass prematurely."

"Would be embarrassing. Take care," the salarian chuckled.

"Back at you," he nodded as the projector turned off.

Now to inform Director Rei of their new angle.

* * *

 **26\. January 2396 AD, Arcturus Station**

Harper stood in the middle of the room as Noé read through the finalized report of both the mission on Camala and its aftermath. While no one had leaked word about the HSA's more than illegal AI research, the fact that Qian had been influenced by something related to the Object Omnicron's was beyond worrying. They had tried to recover the data stored on Sidon's servers but not only the doctor had wiped his private work from the network but the explosion set off by the batarian forces that had attacked the base had also caused irreparable damage to the research facility's server unit, making it impossible to recover anything that hadn't been copied onto the reinforced backup servers which had survived the detonation but had been devoid of Qian's notes. The members of logistical staff who could've seen the object during the short period after its arrival to the base were dead as well, making them unable to act as witnesses, and the sole survivor, one Lieutenant Sanders who had already been reassigned to her next project, was of no use in this matter, since she had not come into direct contact with the trigger during her time on Sidon.

"And the coordinates turned up nothing?"

"No, Sir. Whatever Had'dah found is gone. Our turian contact figured that the geth may have taken it."

"Kind of reminds me of the Leviathan of Dis," the chancellor commented. "Maybe whatever was orbiting that world is similar to the thing that crashed on Jartar? Both are pretty desolate places, could be a pattern."

"We have no way to verify that, Sir."

"Just theorizing here, Harper," the man murmured as he ran a hand through his greying hair. "Qian didn't have any implants, did he?" Noé asked while scrolling through the report.

"Not according to the Spectre that killed him," Harper replied. This was the one detail that had genuinely unsettled him. Previous cases that had shown the degree of obsession that both Qian and Had'dah had displayed had been heavily modified by the Object Omnicrons, their implants amplifying its influence. These cases suggested that they either were wrong about the way the devices created their thralls or, which in his mind was more likley, that there was an even more powerful version of whatever the alien artifacts were doing to the people their targeted. If that was the case, they'd have to be far more careful in the future. Furthermore Qian's mental decline had been rather swift even in the absence of one of the objects. It had only taken him a few days to shift his loyalties. "The recovery of his body would've been essential."

"Well, that won't happen, he blew his head off and got crushed by several tons of ceiling and krogan. Talk about overkill," the man said as he scratched his chin. "The batarian is gone as well. Suicide west. They were absolutely prepared to die for their secret. Never thought I'd see the day someone as selfish as a batarian aristocrat made such a selfless call. Kind of worrying really."

"Personally I find Qian's words to be the most worrying thing about all of this," the director of Cerberus said as he pressed a button on the tablet he was holding, replaying the recording of the Spectre's helmet camera. "You'll live to see it, turian, and when you do, you'll wish you would've died earlier," it echoed through the office as Noé looked up to him. ´"Director Rei has been worried that this Harbinger might make his move sooner than later before, I think this all but confirms that suspicion," Harper added as he paused the recording again. "We need to prepare."

"How do you prepare for something you know next to nothing about, Harper? How do you fight something without knowing what it is?" the man asked while looking away from the screen and into Harper's blue, artifical eyes.

"I don't know, Sir," the former specialist said as he looked at the chancellor. "I just know that we have to win."

"That makes two of us," Noé nodded before returning his attention to the report.

Jack Harper had never been one to consider back down from a fight but right about now he asked himself if it would even be one. If they didn't learn more about their foe, they wouldn't stand a chance.

He'd have to change that, by any means necessary.

* * *

 _Codex: Quarian-Citadel Relations before the Geth War_

 _The quarian people first made contact with the Citadel Council shortly before the Rachni Wars, joining a connected galactic community already made up of the asari, salarians, volus, elcor, hanar and batarians in the process. Having already established a small number of colonies and outposts throughout their territory in the Perseus Veil and Terminus Systems, the quarians were surprisingly advanced compared to the other races that had previously joined the Citadel as associates, being the only non-council race besides the volus to find be the one innitiating contact with the Citadel on their own terms adn rivaling both the salarians and asari in their understanding of the wonders of the galaxy._

 _Their relative isolation from the rest of the galaxy forced the quarian people to become very selfreliant early on, a tendency still observed within the remnants of their society today while their dextro-amino acids and the lack of worlds capable of supporting them limited their expansion._

 _As an associate of the Citadel Council, the quarians took a part in both the Rachni Wars and the Krogan Rebellions, siding with the rest of the galaxy on both occasions while emerging remarkably unscathed out of the two most devastating conflicts in galactic history due to the location of their territory and the distance between it and the parts of asari and salarian space that saw most of the fighting._

 _This position of strength, only lessened by the induction of the Turian Hierarchy to the Citadel Council, combined with a swift rate of technological progress, capable diplomats and resource rich territories gave the Quarian Conclave a unique standing among the other associates,a standing that eventually allowed them to become the first non-council race to induct members of their military into the ranks of the Spectres, an achievement that would remain unchallenged until the induction of the first human Spectre._

 _With the rise of artificial intelligence, the Quarian Conclave grew even more influential, leading the research efforts in the field through their unmatched understanding of advanced programming and their unique approach of networking several, less intelligent AIs into bigger, more capable construct._

 _This approach would eventually lead to their downfall._

 _In 1843 CE the Quarian Conclave, well aware of its disproportionate strength compared to the rest of the associate nations, asked to be granted a seat on the Citadel Council, a decision turned down by all three members of the executive board on the grounds of keeping the balance due to both the hanar and volus voicing a similar request only years earlier and being turned down as well. Arguing that the quarian people had yet to contribute something worthy of a seat on the Citadel Council to defend their decision, the three acting councilors unwillingly became the catalyst of the single most important decision of quarian history, the creation of the geth._

 _The Quarian Conclave, eager to prove itself, looked inward and came to the conclusion that their experience with artificial intelligence was the surest way to prove the Citadel Council wrong. The geth, meaning 'servant of the people' in Khelish, were meant to be the quarian contribution to the galaxy. Semi-sentient, networked artifical intelligence drones meant to serve the quarians and by extension the rest of the galaxy as both laborers and soldiers with unrivaled efficiency, growing smarter as their numbers increased._

 _The concept worked, for a time._

 _In 1889, the geth achieved something they were never meant to achieve. Sentience._

 _A series of events and the horrified reaction of the Quarian Conclave to the newfound awareness of their tools would eventually lead to the Geth War, a conflict raging on for nearly six years and resulting in the death of nearly 30 billion quarians across all of their colonies. Upon its conclusion in 1895 it lead to the closure of the quarian embassy on the Citadel, effectively banishing the remnants of the Quarian Conclave, the Migrant Fleet, from the greater galactic community and ending relations between them and the Citadel Council._

* * *

 **A/N: So, delayed chapter because I hit a little writers blockade (induced by playing a lot of Stellaris and having a full social calender) early on, only powering through this chapter when I realised that it had already been TEN days since my last update. For me, that's long. At least while I still have time.**

 **So, Revelation is concluded and I finally got to write the scene I always wanted to write while teasing one of the major sources of comedy in the later storyline, Anderson and Saren's first 'social drinking'. It'll be a recurring thing, nothing major, just a bit of lighthearted comedy.**

 **Other than that, I rounded off Revelation's impacts on the overall plot of Semper Vigilo while giving Harper his core motivation for the rest of the story and cementing the very different relationship between the turian Spectre and the human N7.**

 **For the record, we're at 230 reviews, 415 favorites and 509 follows.**

 **Glad you're around guys.**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter, and on a sidenote, some of the quarian-citadel stuff is based around a talk I had with CaedmonCousland while the rest of it is basically my take on things already present in the canon of Mass Effect. I made up all the early stuff though.**

 **See you around next time.**


	30. The Calm Before

**Chapter 30. The Calm Before**

* * *

 **26\. November 2396 AD,** **Armstrong Nebula,** **Uncharted Planet**

Unexplored, unclaimed and uncontrolled. All of these conditions had played a role in slavers taking a particular liking for this part of the Skyllian Verge. Used as both a traverse route and as a site for forward operations bases, the nebula had become the single biggest and deadliest, theatre in the Blue Suns' continued crusade against the slaver rings operating out of the adjacent Terminus Systems, a crusade that was rather swiftly escalating in scale as the Batarian Hegemony became bolder in its support of the groups. The slavers had gone from setting up badly fortified, temporary camps to constructing more permanent, heavily guarded and reinforced complexes, sometimes going as far as building entire underground bunker networks capable of holding hundreds if not thousands of slaves.

As such the work of the Blue Suns had become increasingly more difficult.

"Alright, here's the plan," Zaeed explained as the engineers began placing the breaching charges on the heavy blast door obstructing their way into the subterran complex. "I'll be leading a squad straight through the facility, clearing the rooms as we pass them while drawing attention away from Kuril's assault team once we get to the intersection," he said as he nodded towards the brown-plated turian. "You'll split of the main group and head for the command center here," he explained as his omni-tool simulated the process, a smaller dot breaking away from a larger orange mass at an intersection on the map their scanners had created of the complex. "Seize the place and lock it down, turn their own base against them. Sentry guns, lights, give us any advantage we can have."

"Yes, Sir," the turian sergeant nodded as he checked his Phaeston, running a last minute calibration on the rifle while listening to the improvised briefing taking place in front of the ramp leading down to the entrance. Pulling his own helmet over his face, the turian lowered the gun once he was satisfied with the state he was in.

"While my squad fights its way through the facility, Narom's squad will follow us and make sure that any and all captives get the hell out of here," he said as he looked at the human who merely tilted his head to the ground once in response. "Set up a secure path through the place and lead them back here. Once they're outside, Garix and his snipers will lead them to the evacuation site. Any questions?" he asked as the engineers gave him a sign, informing him that the charges they had bought for this mission were in place.

He looked around the small circle of team leaders, waiting for any of them to speak up. They were a good bunch for this kind of mission, C-SEC veterans, former HSA soldiers, members of the turian reserve, all experienced in close quarter combat and more than just capable with a gun at short distances. But that experience wouldn't bring all of them back, the last attack on an underground complex like this one had proven that much. There was something particularly difficult about engaging vorcha, batarians and the rare krogan in enclosed spaces that favoured their fighting style and until Kuril would take the control center, they'd be at an even bigger disadvantage. Cameras, locked doors and sentry guns had been their scourge throughout the last raid on a base like this, making every meter they advanced costly for the Blue Suns and in the end resulting in eight dead and thirteen injured on their side.

And that complex had been smaller than this one.

"Let's get it done then," he muttered as he pulled his helmet over his face, a decision that would turn out to be the best one he had ever made in the course of the next twenty minutes. He shut off the omni-tool before flicking of the safety of his old but trusty SR-7, Jessie, several magazines meant for her lining his chest. His thumb softly brushed against the top of the detonator as he took a final breath, hoping that the charges were as directed as their seller had claimed them to be. With a single, almost comically easy move of his finger, a bright, loud explosion set off the powerful, obviously krogan siege charges that had been placed on the blast doors, punching a hole big enough for an elcor to walk through into them while leaving the Blue Suns standing at the ramp unharmed.

The krogan hadn't been kidding when he had claimed that these were the best keys in the galaxy.

He had to give no further command as a series of smoke grenades were rolled down the ramp and into the opening, the thick white clouds leaking from the canisters preventing the first line of defenders from simply gunning down Zaeed and his team by causing them to fire prematurely. The slavers poured hundreds of rounds through the smoke screen in a matter of seconds and soon enough their guns began to overheat, making them unable to fire. "Go," he dryly ordered before his team rushed down the ramp, the thermal vision of their helmet allowing them to make out the hot jets of gas being ejected by the guns of the slavers, their colder but still noticeable frames being outlined for them by their HUD. It would be a few seconds before their foes be able to fire again. But it would be too late for them by then. Unlike the slavers, the Blue Suns didn't have to wait for their guns to cool down before being able to fight. They had saved their heatsinks, or in some cases ammunition, for this moment.

Walking through the smoke, he lifted his rifle in unison with the rest of his squad, a mixture of mass accelerator and gunpowder fire coming to life as his squad began to gun down the ironically defenseless defenders. The sound of gunfire drowned out the painful and surprised screams of the slavers as the Blue Suns cut through them with ruthless efficiency and well practiced routine. They had taken up position behind crates and barriers, expecting to break the assault just as it began, an expectation that they'd soon come to regret. Just as the first guns began to cool down the last slaver, a batarian trying to fall back to another line of defense through a long corridor clad in brown metal, fell to the ground as Zaeed's bullet tore through the armor on his back, rupturing his organs and killing him in the process. The group of operatives clad in blue confidently emerged from the cloud, taking a moment to check the area before following their commander to the second door.

This had been the easy part. Now they'd venture into the belly of the beast.

Their scans had indicated that following the initial blast doors room, a series of rooms, corridors and intersections not unlike to a maze would greet them. There was no doubt in Zaeed's mind that every turn they took would result in an ambush and as such he steadied himself before opening the door just wide enough for the flashbang in his hand to fit through the gap. A second or two passed before the explosion of the grenade set him into motion, his hand tearing open the door all the way for the pointman to enter, Zaeed himself following right behind him. The turian fired his rifle at the first target in front of him as the field commander of the Blue Suns spun left, coming face to face with an angry looking vorcha wearing welding glasses that had protected him from being blinded while leveling a Blood Pack Executioner pistol at his head.

The Blue Suns operative was quicker on the draw.

Before the mostly naked, brownish figure could pull his trigger, Zaeed ended the slaver's life with a burst of four rounds tearing through the thick skin of his face, blood, gore and pieces of glass exploding out of the otherwise resilient alien as the former army soldier stepped to the side, searching for a new target just as the third Blue Suns entered the room, a shotgun blast smashing into the wall between him and Zaeed, only luck and a lack of aim, caused by the flashbang, keeping either of them from being hit before they found the shooter at the same time, riddling the batarian, who was still covering his four eyes with one of his hand, with holes, they ensured that he couldn't fire again. His corpse fell forward and onto the crate he had hidden behind, vanishing from Zaeed's sight as he once more scanned the room, a blue form lying on the floor catching his eye just as he cleared the last corner, only realising that the gunfire had stopped when he lowered his rifle.

As the pointman moved up to the next door, Zaeed himself knelt down next to the bleeding but still conscious human, already reaching for one of his medigel syringes before the operative stopped him. "Save it, I'll live," the operative grunted in protest before throwing his head back in pain, the hole in his leg bleeding profoundly. Ignoring the injured man's suggestion, he applied the salve to stop the bleeding before calling to the leader of the supporting squad through the breached door.

"Get him out of here," he waved him over as the painful grunting of their first casualty began to stop. They had only cleared the first ambush and already one of them was out of commission. This didn't forebode well. Two members of Narom's squad broke away from their formation, picking up their comrade as Zaeed threw the empty syringe to the ground, taking care not to step into the other man's blood as he got up. He took a few steps towards the next door where the turian was already waiting for him. The two exchanged a quick nod before steadying themselves to breach, another grenade once more being unhooked from the combat rigging around Zaeed's body armor. He pulled the safety pin out of the small cylinder before forcing the door open, time slowing down when the white flash appeared. Accompanied by the familiar loud noise of an explosion the Blue Suns poured into the room, Zaeed himself once more the second man through the door.

The situation that presented itself to the squad was not on he or anyone else would've hoped for.

In the second it took for him to assess the room in front of him, he knew it would be ugly. Apparently realising the scope of the assault, the slavers had decided that the money they'd get for living captives wouldn't be worth anything if they died before being able to sell them. As such they had removed some of their sources of future profit from their cells, putting them between themselves and the Blue Suns, using them as living shields. As the slaves, blinded by the flashbang, struggled in front of several slavers holding them by their throats, Zaeed found himself blending out the rest of the room while raising his SR-7, years of marksmanship drills paying of as targeted the exposed head of a slaver hiding behind a human in his mid-thirties. The bullets tore through the air as he walked sideways in an attempt to clear the door, the electric sound of kinetic barriers being shattered and omni-tool programs being fired to his side nearly inaudible all the while he registered the red flashing of his HUD informing him of an imminent failure of his shield. He fired bullet after bullet into the brown helmet peaking out behind the human, a Terminator rifle hidden behind the captive returning each shot he took. Zaeed threw himself to the side just as his shields shattered, a final shot causing the batarian's neck to snap back while his blood stained the face of his hostage. Zaeed heard shouts to his right as he fell to the ground, rolling sideways and behind some sort of desk only to realise that the short but intense firefight was once more over.

"Spirits," he heard as he turned his head to the door, finding two Blue Suns lying motionless on the floor, their blue and red blood already mixing on the ground to create a weird shade of purple where they met. But as he saw Kuril step over their corpses, his gaze fixated on something beyond them, he rose from behind the console to find exactly what had caused his reaction.

Their scans hadn't shown that. They'd have to figure out just how the slavers had fooled them.

This was bad.

Looking through a semi-open door, the corpse of a krogan still burning at the hands of an incineration projectile keeping it from being able to fully close, he spotted just what Kuril had referred to. Adjacent to the room was a catwalk overlooking a large storage hall, an area their scanners had originally identified as a series of corridors during both the initial and the confirmation scan. Zaeed walked towards the door as a human took the place of the now deceased turian pointman, nodding his head to inform his commander that he was ready. Together they pried open the door before both taking a large step over the krogan corpse, rifles at the ready.

"Holy shit," he muttered as he looked down from the catwalk while lowering his SR-7 at the lack of enemies and the realisation that even Jessie couldn't do more than scratch the paint off of what was standing below them. The brown, sloped armor of batarian tanks, their dual mass accelerator canons identifying them as Votham MBTs, reflected the light of large lamps installed in the ceiling. Several large hydraulic pumps connected to pistons lead Zaeed to believe that it was in fact capable of being opened, which in turn would explain how they had gotten them inside here. Out of the top of his head he counted at least ten of the state-of-the-art behemoths within the hall and as he looked further ahead he spotted both crates stamped with the sigil of Batarian State Arms and more armored vehicles. This group had received some major backing and by the looks of it there were a lot more of them than they had suspected.

"We don't have enough explosives for all of this," Kuril cursed as he walked up next to Zaeed, his original mission of finding the command central of the base being turned somewhat irrelevant for the moment. Their maps were incorrect anyway.

"If they got tanks, they got ammunition. We'll blow this place sky high with an orbital strike. Open the ceiling for the Lockpick and get the hell out of here," Zaeed countered, thinking on his feet. "This is beyond the normal level of batarian support. That's bleeding edge technology."

"The Votham hasn't even been shipped out to the Internal Forces," another Blue Suns operative, the replacement pointman, noted. "Why the hell are they handing them out to slavers?"

"I don't know, but we're not going to let them hold onto them, move do-" as if hit with a sledgehammer, Zaeed found himself falling to the ground, his head hitting the floor just as hard as the rest of him before beginning to sting. The amount of pain flooding through the side of his face as red blood began to pour into his vision was beyond anything the former sergeant turned Blue Suns field commander had ever experienced. As he turned himself on his back, Zaeed Massani could see his comrades run for cover after removing his helmet from his head, finding its black visor shattered and pieces of the blue and white armor to its right torn away as he inspected it in his hands in shock, only realising just how badly he was bleeding after touching the side of his face. Before whoever had shot him could exploit this irrational action on his part, he felt someone pull him by his legs. The familiar sound of sentry guns spinning up drowned out any other noise within the room as he looked for the source of the sound. The sparks of rounds impacting ever closer to him were the last thing Zaeed saw before blacking out, refusing to let go of his helmet even when he lost consciousness.

Good thing he had worn it.

* * *

 **39 Hours Later, Blue Suns Frigate 'Lockpick'**

"Bloody hell," he grunted as he touched the side of his face upon waking up, finding the soft fabric of a bandage in its place before realising that he was in fact on board of one of the turian frigates the Blue Suns had received from one of their backers some time ago. "Where's the fucker that shot me?" he demanded to know as he spotted one of the doctors of the frigate, the typical numbness associated with medigel application making it somewhat harder to speak than usual. "He, Jessie and I need to have a talk."

"Dead," the turian replied as he walked over to Zaeed, exchanging one of the IV bags attached to his arm. "But unlike you he didn't come back."

"You're telling me I died?" Zaeed asked before clearing his throat, an action causing the turian to hand him a flask of water.

"We had to dig pieces of your helmet out of the side of your skull, Sir. It's a miracle in itself that your eye remained unharmed considering you decided to remove it by yourself," the medic explained before getting to the part of the story Zaeed had asked for. "You died twice during the operation but you were too stubborn to stay dead."

"How long was I gone?" he spoke before clarifying, "as in hours since I got shot, not minutes I was dead. I don't wanna know that last one."

"Nearly two days," the grey turian shrugged as Zaeed opened the container of water. "We thought you'd be out for at least another week."

"I can sleep when I'm dead," the man chuckled before remembering that he had apparently died twice in the last two days. "What about the mission?" Zaeed inquired while lifting the flask to his mouth, the liquid easing the sore feeling in his throat as he quickly drank its entire content.

"Accomplished," the medic explained. "Sergeant Kuril cleared the complex, saved as many slaves as he could and called in an orbital strike on the entire area."

"How many did we lose?" the commander spoke after wiping away some drops of water that had collected around his lips during his eager emptying of the flask with his forearm.

"Six dead, two injured," the turian replied as Zaeed noticed the other human occupying the medical bay with him, his leg wrapped in bandages as he slept through their conversation.

It was better than last time.

"How many did we get out?" he asked in regards to the slaves.

"Only seven."

"Damn." Just how many had died during the attack? He would need Kuril to give him a detailed report.

"It's actually quite good. There were only ten in the entire facility."

"Come again?" Zaeed asked.

"They were preparing for a raid, their prison cells were basically empty. The captives we retrieved were members of a scouting party of the independent colony they were planning on targeting. By the looks of it we saved them from an assault. Those slavers were packing a lot of firepower and we got lucky that we got to them before their allies arrived."

"Allies?" Slavers usually didn't have any allies. More groups meant that they'd have to split the profit of their attacks. They were too greedy to have allies.

"Yes, allies," the medic said as he walked over to the other human, checking some readings on his omni-tool once he stood next to him. "Multiple slaver groups were headed for the base. As far as the files Kuril retrieved suggest, they were planning on using all that fancy gear to not just raid but actually occupy their next target for some time. They would've captured tens of thousands."

"Anything on where they got the Vothams from?" he knew the answer to that question but he still had to ask. Maybe they could do something about it. Everyone knew that the Batarian Hegemony was supporting slaver rings but as long as the preyed on independent colonies, worlds that had willingly secluded themselves from the Citadel, the Council didn't have many options. Besides the sanctions already placed on the Hegemony for past offenses, there wasn't a lot they could do that wouldn't require military action against the batarians as a whole. Having fought in some of the worst battles of the Fringe Wars, Zaeed understood just why that wasn't an appealing concept for most people. Fighting slavers on their own turf was one thing, invading and fighting on planets with millions of innocent civilians was another, far more brutal one.

"Nothing on their records but they are brand new. Probably straight out of the factories on Khar'Shan," the medic chuckled as Zaeed sat up in his bed, taking care not to rip out any of the small tubes and wires attached to him. "Easy there," he added as he turned his head over his shoulder.

"I've got work to do," he insisted as he looked at the collection of medical equipment attached to him. "Care to take that off before I try and break it?"

"You had half your face shredded by a sniper rifle, you can take a few more days off," the turian argued. "I'd hate to fix it again."

"What if I order you to take this stuff off of me?" Zaeed asked him as the turian turned around.

"As a medical officer I outrule you on matters concerning your health," his current adversary simply replied as he shut his omni-tool off while Zaeed himself cursed the fact that he and the other commanders had decided to run the Blue Suns like a military outfit. "But I can call down Kuril to give you a more detailed report."

"Appreciate it," Zaeed replied as he figured he may as well lay back down. For his own mental health he hoped that the report was as detailed as any other Kuril had ever written. He had only been awake for a few minutes and was already bored out of his mind. Being injured was definitely among his five least favorite past time activities.

"Before I forget it," the turian spoke up before walking away for a few moments, returning to Zaeed with a damaged and bloodied helmet. "You may want to hold onto that," he said before handing the piece of armor over to him. "Could become your lucky charm."

* * *

 **13\. June 2398 AD, Citadel, Embassy Area**

"In other news, travel and immigration agencies once more urge civilians to only take trips into the independent regions of the Attican Traverse if they absolutely have to. Two days ago yet another slave raid resulted in the capture of at least 4.000 colonist hailing from the independent world of Elissa. Local authorities have yet to identify all victims of the attack but HSA first responders estimate that up to 10.000 people may have been taken by the slaver band. If these numbers turn out to true, it would be the largest raid in the last year," the news anchor spoke before pausing for a moment, most likely to catch her breath. "The claims of surviving militia members that batarian military officials were involved in the attack have yet to verified. In face of the risk of a follow up assault and the casualties suffered by their own militia, Elissa's colonial administration has requested that elements of the human forces already active in the Skyllian Verge and Attican traverse remain on the world. Earlier today, several hundred soldiers stationed on the HSASV Hannibal Barca deployed to the colony's surface," the asari went on as a recording of several human shuttles descending through the clouds above the broken capital was played alongside her commentary. Most of them were carrying marines but Anderson's keen eye managed to spot the few odd shaped ones holding Paladin suits as well. "It is unknown how long human forces are going to remain on the world."

Turning his attention away from the news broadcast, Anderson once more looked around himself in hopes of spotting Saren Arterius. He had never been late before, turians weren't supposed to be late, they were supposed to be overly punctual and considering that he had been the one to ask Anderson to meet him, the N7 had figured that his supervising agent would already been waiting for him.

After the mission on Camala and a still foggy night of 'social drinking' had pursued the N7 to become the first human Spectre candidate, the process of requesting the chance of sending a trainee had been started. A process that had taken months to complete. Once it had been finished, he had, unsurprisingly, been placed under the guidance of a senior agent, a post Saren Arterius had requested. Beginning his field training exactly twelve months ago, the two had already conducted a series of missions related to both the ever present financial crime, which took up the attention of a rather large number of Spectres in times of peace, and the growing slaver threat lurking at the borders of Citadel Space.

The senior agent had told him that it would only take a few more weeks for him to be considered ready for induction, something that would mark the ending of his training phase and mark one of the most important milestones in the shared history of humanity and the Citadel Council. Once the HSA had induced its first Spectre, the way would be paved for more human candidates to apply for their ranks and soon enough the seat on the Council the chancellor, who was rumored to finish his forth term in office this year before retiring after twenty years of being in office, so desired would be in reach. He suspected that they'd go to a final mission before that.

"Anderson," he heard from behind him as he turned around. Walking through the crowd of diplomats was a figure in white armor, several guns on him and the lack of worry about it from the people around him identifying him as a Spectre. Why the turian always wore his armor was something Anderson didn't quite understand yet but since most people didn't seem to mind, why should he?

"You're late," the N7 observed before rolling his neck to release some tension that had been building up from looking up towards the news broadcast for several minutes.

"Yes, I know. There was some personal business I had to take care of," the turian shrugged with a hint of secrecy in his voice. Ever since the salarian councilor had started training his replacement on the Citadel, a young STG protégé by the name of Valern, the Spectre had been spending more and more time with the member of the executive board. If the direction he had appeared from was any indication, this personal business had been related to Councilor Idril as well. The past twelve months had taught Anderson that most missions Saren received were given to him not by the entire council but rather by the salarian councilor, a detail he had yet to figure out.

"Another raid?" Saren added as he nodded towards the screen, the echoing flanging in his voice now something the N7 was used to, and causing the N7 to turn back to it. The recording that had previously occupied it had now been replaced by a salarian with worn-out combat gear, the badge on his chest suggesting that he was a member of Elissa's planetary militia or its police force.

"They were more slavers than usual," the fast talking amphibian began as several Kodiaks flew above him, the sound of their engines causing him to wait until it was once more quiet enough to talk. "We've experienced some raids in the past but nothing on this scale. This group was far more organized than the ones before it and far better equipped any other slavers I've ever seen," he continued as his face was shifted into the corner of the screen, footage of a security camera belonging to one of the shelters now dominating most of the screen. "They had armored vehicles, they had gunships, they even had tanks," the militiaman muttered as a large, brown vehicle with two barrels attached to its turret came into view before firing at something in the distance, the deafening crack it should've created upon doing so not part of the newscast for the sake of its viewers. "We didn't stand a chance," the salarian added before several batarians jogged into the view of the camera, vanishing as one of them fired a burst from his rifle at the camera, his four-eyed helmet and well-maintained gear remaining frozen as the survivor of the attack kept talking. "They overran our defenses and used mining equipment to break into the shelters."

"Looks like it. That's how many now? Five this month?" Anderson replied as he scratched his neck, the salarian still talking on the broadcast as a panorama view of the burning colony replaced the security footage.

"Not counting the ones which got intercepted, yes. That's the fifth," the turian Spectre confirmed. "This entire thing is becoming bigger with every month now. I just read a report confirming that those battle tanks the slavers brought with them were factory new. At this point I'm just waiting for the first batarian dreadnought to join an attack since they aren't even trying to hide their involvement anymore. We've got to put a stop to it."

"We're going after the supplier, aren't we?" Anderson asked. The Citadel Council had time and again called out the Batarian Hegemony on its now blatantly obvious support of several larger slaver rings to no avail, the further sanctions placed on the state only serving to make the lives of its slaves even more miserable. It was only reasonable that they'd escalate things to the next step given the current situation. Spectres could achieve a lot of things regular politicians would never be able to do, if words didn't help, action would.

"There will be more cases like this if we don't do something about it," Saren replied as he began walking through the crowd, people moving out of his way as they either recognized him or decided not to stand in the way of an armed man. Ever since it had been made public knowledge that the Spectre had prevented an attack on the station itself, further details such as their trip to Camala being neglected in the statement of the Council, the turian had become something akin to the face of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch on the Citadel. Spectres, unlike their missions, had always been in the eye of the public because they represented the Citadel Council as a whole, being hailed as the defenders of galactic peace and stability by the media and once they had actually learned what one of them had done for them, the public and the media had crowned him a hero. "But finding the supplier wouldn't make a difference . If we take them down, the batarians are just going to send another one."

"So what exactly are we going to do then?" Anderson questioned as the Spectre came to a halt in front of one of the frustratingly slow elevators, its doors opening for them to step inside. "What's our angle here? How do we put a stop to it?"

"We don't have an angle," a sigh echoed through the elevator cabin once the doors closed, removing them from the public eye. That was one of the drawbacks of being hailed a hero by the public. People expected Saren Arterius to have the solution to a problem the moment it occurred. While the Spectre had a near perfect track record in regards to his assignments, he wasn't a miracle worker. Anderson understood that far better than most people due to having worked with the turian for some time now. Every mission Saren completed, every fight he had ever won and every bad guy's plan he had ever foiled were the result of hard work and at times months of preparation. "And it's not our mission to stop these attacks either," the turian added with a frustrated growl. "Elissa is an independent world, no formal allegiance or connection to the Citadel Council. As long as they aren't attacking our own worlds with those tanks, the council isn't going to risk a war."

That caused the N7 to narrow his eyes. The fact that Saren hadn't denied that they were going after the supplier had caused him to assume that it was in fact their mission and the reason why he had asked Anderson to meet him. Apparently that had been a wrong assumption and in retrospective he should've known better. The Citadel Council held no power in the independent regions of the galaxy and while the HSA had unofficially included independent worlds located in the Skyllian Verge into its patrol schedule, they couldn't officially police planets that didn't explicitly ask for their protection. Maybe this attack would change their mind

"I don't like it either," the turian went on.

"I know you don't," Anderson shook his head. The Turian Hierarchy was very vocal about its proposed solution to this particular problem and Saren himself had voiced his dislike for slavers more than once.

As the elevator came to a stop in one of the several docking bay levels of the station, the doors opened to reveal one of the military bays, a turian one non the less. Following Saren through the security checkpoint, the turian's Spectre status and his own candidacy status allowing them to simply pass through without being controlled by the C-SEC guards manning the scanners, Anderson spoke up again.

"So why did you want to meet?"he asked as they passed by columns of turians either going to shore leave or returning from it, the several docked frigates and cruisers they hailed from visible through a large window in front of them. The grey uniforms worn by all ground troops of the Turian Hierarchy were just as plenty as the darkgreen ones of their naval forces and the discipline expected from all of them had left its mark on the area.

"I've had something made for you," the turian said. "Remember how your ammunition ran out when you wer-"

"Yes, I remember," he interrupted the Spectre who was already smirking. Anderson would rather not have that particular story repeated, ever. As far as he was concerned, no one would ever have to know about it.

"Anyway," Saren continued as they walked towards a turian looking like he was in charge of the logistics around here, his arms resting on a silver counter and his head turning towards them as he peaked up once he heard them approach. "The way I see it, humans make quite decent guns," he chuckled. "But turians make better ones."

"Agent Arterius," he heard the officer say before his companion snapped to attention.

"Lieutenant Ultax," he saluted. Even Spectres were expected to respect the chain of command after all. While Anderson himself was still considered an active serviceman as well, he himself didn't salute people nearly as his supervising agent. At times it was very hard to believe that Saren Arterius was 'just' a non-commissioned officer within the Hierarchy's military, while the N7 himself had long since been promoted to Lieutenant Commander Anderson. Encounters like this also reminded him that the Spectre was still younger than him, something he also tended to forget when they were in the field.

"You're here to pick up your delivery?" the officer asked while already in the process of grabbing a small container usually used to store guns from one of the shelves behind him before walking back towards the table separating him from them.

"Yes, Sir," his companion nodded before the box was passed to him across the counter, both their omni-tools lighting up as the process was logged. Even a turian Spectre wasn't save from the bureaucracy of the Turian Hierarchy. Removing the tag on the handle of the box, he stepped to the side. "Go ahead, open it," he instructed Anderson who then placed his hands on the two locks holding the box closed at either side. With a slight push of his fingers, he felt them come loose, in turn allowing him to lift the top-part of the container up, revealing a black, turian assault rifle with a slightly different design to his eyes.

"You shouldn't have," the N7 said as he ran his fingers along the smooth surface of the Phaeston, realising just how precise the craftsmanship behind the gun was. "I got a rifle. Several actually."

"Human rifles have a good punch and all things considered acceptable accuracy. They don't look half as terrible as other guns on the market and you could probably club a krogan to death with one and still fire it afterwards," the Spectre chuckled. "But they run out of ammunition far faster than this one and don't look nearly as good when they do it."

Lifting the gun from the container, an action that probably would've raised a lot more attention if he hadn't been in the presence of a Spectre or in a turian naval yard, he got a feel for the gun. It was lighter than he had expected it to be while feeling surprisingly comfortable in his hands.

"It has a very high rate of fire and in the hands of a good marksman its incredibly accurate even in full-auto. It'll punch through armor far better than that SR-8 of yours and it can fire nearly a hundred rounds before it'll need to cool down," Saren went on. "As you're no doubt feeling right now, I had it refitted for human anatomy. Consider it an early induction gift."

"I love it already." Anderson smirked as he pressed the gun against his shoulders after making sure that the safety was still in place and no one in front of him. "I didn't get you anything," the N7 joked,

"You didn't have to, let's go shoot it," the turian suggested in excitement before Anderson placed the rifle back in its container. C-SEC would ask less questions that way.

By the end of the day he had a new favorite gun.

* * *

 **2140 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

"And as expected, the induction of the first human Spectre has been received positively by most of the galaxy, except of course by the Batarian Hegemony and some fringe groups," the officer tasked with the threat assessment concluded as Desolas looked at the picture that confirmed the success of one of Saren's parts in their plan.

The first human Spectre proudly standing in front of the three councilors, Cozek still among them and looking as good as a salarian of his age could look.

Lieutenant Commander David Anderson, an N7, had been induced into the ranks of the Spectres at the hands of the Citadel Council exactly one week ago, marking the first time ever since the quarians that an associate race managed to find their footing in the organisation. Of course the quarians had walked as somewhat different, far longer road towards that goal but that didn't mean that the man was unqualified. Saren had assured Desolas that he'd only pick someone actually suited for the position because of how much damage an incompetent candidate would actually do to the rest of their plan and his career as a Spectre.

"Ambassador Jath'Amon has already asked for an audience with the Citadel Council and as our reports suggest, he's going to demand a batarian Spectre," the briefing officer said after pressing a button on her omni-tool, causing the screen to shift to a picture of the brown-coloured, overweight aristocrat. "Which of course won't be accepted," she added. "We expect even more diplomatic backlash once the next series of joint-exercises start in the coming week consider that Kruljaven will be the sight of a major ground exercise."

The officer cleared her throat before pressing the same button on her omni-tool again, the screen now displaying a series of security recordings and dates. Beginning a few months ago, all of them had several things in common. Larger than usual slaver bands raiding more developed, independent worlds and changing their strategy from small assaults into all-out invasions through the help of modern Batarian State Arms supplies. In the corner of the screen a diagram displayed the large increase of the number of raids compared to last year and the number of captives taken during them while also showing that casualties among planetary militias had climbed to an alltime high. Next to it the number of intercepted slaver fleets was written, a number that was far too small compared to previous briefings and raised the question as to how slaver bands had suddenly gotten this good at avoiding Citadel forces.

"As the latest assaults carried out by Blackwatch teams on slaver bases have confirmed, previously rival groups are now banding together due to an as of yet unknown external pressure that may or may not be related to political pressure coming from the Batarian Hegemony. They've started building underground fortresses on unclaimed worlds, making attacks on their camps much harder while becoming far more organized than before," she said before an already familiar image of a dead batarian, the black boot of a Blackwatch operative in the corner of the picture still visible, came into view. That particular report had passed his desk some days ago. "Organisation apparently coming from batarian military officers. This man, killed during a boarding operation on a slaver barge damaged by elements of the 421st Patrol Flotilla, was identified as Colonel Jalath Ildah of the External Forces. Upon confrontation, the Batarian Hegemony denied any involvement.

Of course they would do that. They always did that.

"Furthermore three separate yet simultaneous attacks on independent worlds in the early stages of development have resulted in the capture of up to 20.000 colonists. The few remaining colonists have been returned to Council space for the time being by the 37th fleet due to the irreparable damage caused to the colonies in wake of the engagement. Both security footage and eye witness reports once more confirm that the slavers deployed heavy Batarian State Arms equipment," the officer finished her explanation before changing the screen once more, a news headline now dominating the screen and filling Desolas with both a sense of satisfaction and a sense of worry. He just hoped that it would act as a deterrent.

"We've also received conformation that earlier today several slaver scouting parties attempted to penetrate human territories resulting in a series of naval skirmishes across the Skyllian Verge," the officer said as the general inside Desolas Arterius recognized the action for the probing attack that it was. "Early reports suggest that up to 30 smaller craft and two slaver frigates were destroyed in the engagements but the 7th fleet of the HSA has yet to declare their operation to be over. For now the area is considered a combat zone."

As the headline disappeared, another taking its place, Desolas and the other ranking officers of Aephus' colonial cluster rose to attention, as expected from them upon learning of the retirement of someone holding the rank he held.

"And as the last point of today's briefing, Councilor Ioventus has announced his retirement, allowing Primarch Sparatus to take his place on the Citadel Council," the woman said while remaining at attention until Aephus' current primarch gave all of them the command to be at ease. "This concludes the threat assessment briefing of the cluster and the galaxy as a whole. Should there be any other serious developments or events that require your immediate attention, you'll be notified."

Finally released from the briefing, Desolas walked out of the room and towards his office, the slowly setting sun shining into his face as he passed by a large window, deciding to gie him a last ray of light before vanishing behind the horizon. He slowly walked through the corridors, passing by the armory as he heard the typical arguing of two members of his honor guard in the process. Throwing a nod towards Veltax, the only one noticing him walking by the room as he cleaned his knife, he figured he would not join them for the moment and instead move towards the offices. He still had to make a call to not only discuss the further development of the situation with Saren but also spent some time with his brother after collecting his price from one of the admirals that still hadn't learned that the instincts of the Blackwatch commander in regards to betting on the outcome of fencing duals were impeccable. As his omni-tool buzzed, the vibration on his wrist informing him of an incoming message, he expected it to be just another business call from Melion, his second in command. Of course he had something that required Desolas' attention. He couldn't have single free evening for himself, could he? The chains of command had once more caught him.

When he saw just who had sent the message, he quickly opened it before coming to a halt upon reading it.

'Cozek is dead. Passed away in his sleep. Succeeding him immediately- V.'

And soon afterwards the vibration repeated itself again and again, first Saren, then the briefing officer and finally Tao Rei all requesting his attention once they learned of the salarian's death.

Turning on his heel with the somber promise of raising a glass to Cozek after the extended briefing, Desolas sighed exactly once before saving his grief for later, putting up an act in the process. Officialy, he had nothing to do with Councilor Idril and as such he should seem unaffected but unofficially Cozek had been one of his closest allies and a friend. He'd ensure that the salarian hadn't spent the final years of his life on a futile cause, that was the least he could do.

* * *

 **Summer of 2141 CE, Terra Nova, Grissom Academy**

Years of work were soon to pay of as the first class of human biotics would officially graduate from Grissom Academy, her supervision having ensured that they were as ready as they possibly could to be sent of to several combat formations within the HSA's armed forces, a choice all of them had made voluntarily. Considering that they had spent nearly six years in a military school, which was a long time for a young human, Tela Vasir wasn't surprised by their decision. They had invested countless hours, sweat and blood into honing their abilities and by now all of them were eager to put what they had learned to use in the field. A portion of her students would go on to apply for the N7 program while others would be sent to serve in the assault formations of the HSA Marine Corps. A few may eventually even take part in the Blackwatch exchange program, a rare honor, and others had decided to apply to the army's own special forces. As she looked at all 103 of them, standing in neat rows as the headmaster of the academy congratulated them, she couldn't help but feel proud. Others may be worried about the prospect of their students going on to serve in some of the most dangerous professions society had to offer but she knew that they'd do more than just good. They'd be everything their people hoped they'd be and so much more.

She and the other teachers had ensured that.

"There's my favorite former asari Spectre turned teacher," she heard Redford say as he dropped down in the chair next to him, opening the buttons of his jacket.

"What an oddly specific way to describe your bondmate," she pointed out as she turned towards him, planting a short kiss on his lips.

"Oddly specific is a very good way to describe me," the blonde specialist argued as he grabbed one of the glasses off the table, sipping at its contents before throwing his arm around her back. "So, any favorites?" he asked with a smirk.

"Teachers don't have favorites," the asari argued diplomatically.

"Now we both know that's bullshit," he said. "It's fine, I'll just watch your reaction to each of them and figure it out myself."

He had a point. While she wouldn't exactly call him her favorite, one of the graduates in particular had proven himself to her time and again as not only a capable biotic but also a capable leader. As she saw the dark haired human walk up to the headmaster, wearing the school's uniform as if he had been born for this very moment, she smiled to give Redford the hint he so desperately looked for. Kaidan Alenko would go a long way. Tela just knew that he'd leave his own mark on history. During her own training as an asari huntress, she had been taught that certain people would rise to whatever challenge they were presented with simply because they believed they were obligated to do so for others, she believed that Kaidan Alenko was one of these people. He hadn't just come out on top in several of the ending exercises, no, he had made sure that his entire class pulled through, going back from the front of the formation for those that were starting to fall back.

"You did that on purpose," Redford sighed, causing her to chuckle. It was still as funny to mess with him as it had been when she had first met him. "He does look like a good lad though. Perhaps the next Spectre?"

"He was a good student, yes," she said truthfully, by now familiar with Redford's strange usage of certain words.

"So, heartbroken over the prospect of losing your first students? Or are you as relieved as my teachers were when they got rid of me?" the human next to her asked before drinking from his glass some more.

"I'm proud, really," she admitted. "Everything we've achieved with BAaT up to now has been beyond our expectations going into it. They are stronger than we thought they'd be. Of course they aren't asari or krogan but still. If this first class is any indication, humans may very well become number three in terms of biotic power," she started, "but it's not just the statistics or the program that I'm proud of. I'm proud of the students, growing up for me biotics were a fact of life, for them it's something beyond alien. They dealt with everything admirably."

"They're all go to the military?" the specialist asked. "Would probably be for the better anyway," he added.

"In this class? Yes," Tela said, knowing the general direction of where he was going. Human biotics would be in high demand within the ranks of the HSA's armed services but outside of that community, in the civilian world, they were still treated with a suspicion not unlike that the basic turian rifleman had in regards to cabals. For asari, biotics were as natural as breathing, for the rest of the galaxy they had become a rare but still familiar concept over the two millennia they had known about them. For humanity, it was a very new and very alien fact of life. People didn't really know what to expect from biotics and most of the limited media coverage BAat had received had not done that any favours.

But those weren't problems of this evening.

For now she'd just be proud of them.

They had earned that.

* * *

 _Codex: Independent Colonies_

 _Following the Rachni Wars, the Citadel Council was unable and unwilling to extend its rule over all newly colonized planets in the galaxy, resulting in the first independent worlds, colonies founded by private initiatives, communities or companies, appearing on the galactic plain. Looking to seize unsettled and unclaimed yet still rich planets, a wave of private expansion was set off that only came to an end upon the beginning of the Krogan Rebellions, which saw nearly a hundred independent planets fall prey to the krogan war of expansion._

 _Motivations for moving away from the Citadel Council ranged from a general distrust in their ability to keep them safe, the hopes of finding valuable resources without the requirement of sharing them with the Council to the desire of some to free themselves from the perceived oppression at the hands of certain Citadel Council laws or simply wanting to rule a planet of their own as unquestioned autocrats. However in doing so the worlds also secluded themselves from the protective wing of the Citadel Council's navies, a fact that would lead to independent colonies becoming the largest target for slaver raids throughout history._

 _Most Independent colonies are usually not as developed as worlds settled and ruled by galactic governments but in some cases, upon reaching a certain level of development, their importance as commerce heavens, corporate refuges or travel locations resulted in them becoming unproportionally wealthy and important, wealth that in turn inspired even more organisations to settle an unclaimed world and declare their secession from the Citadel Council, an action which in turn has never been outlawed due to their importance for the council._

 _Besides being relevant players in mining and trading, independent colonies also make up some the biggest, non-governmental, sources of costumers for the military industrial complex. The need to defend themselves from slaver raids has caused most worlds to maintain well funded and equipped planetary militias who are akin to an army in all but their name. Yet restrictions on corporations for selling certain heavy weaponry and above frigate tonnage vessels remain in place, restrictions some worlds avoid by simply constructing these things themselves or hiring groups not affected from these restrictions._

 _Adding to their own troops, the worlds not aligned with the Citadel Council are well known for hiring mercenary organisations to do their bidding, ranging from requesting a small outfit of private contractors to defend their worlds and train their own troops to hiring entire armies to wage war against rival planets to improve their position, a practice the Citadel Council is forced to ignore due to lacking executive power over the worlds that have declared their independence from it. Suggestions to forcefully return independent planets at war with each other to the Citadel Council have time and again been voted down by several generations of councilors on the grounds of their right to rule themselves._

 _In wake of the slaver renaissance (See Entry 'Slaver Bands') several planets within the Skyllian Verge and Attican Traverse requested , uncharacteristically for them, the already present human forces to periodically patrol their space in an attempt to discourage slavers from attacking their worlds. This decision did in fact have the result the colonial administrations had hoped for as in most cases planets that opted to ask for this kind of aid remained unharmed until the Skyllian Blitz (See Entry 'Skyllian Blitz') threw the entire region into a state of war for several months. The practice of extending their protection on independent planets in the region has earned the Human Systems Alliance the nickname 'Warden of the Verge' in political circles and was received as gesture of good will by most of the galaxy with the exception of the Batarian Hegemony, who called the practice 'imperialistic and a direct attack on batarian interest' after demanding that the Citadel Council declare the Skyllian Verge an area of batarian interest._

 _Independent worlds remain political and economical important factors as more and more people decide to forge their own destiny outside of the Council's sphere of influence._

* * *

 **A/N: So I got to where I wanted to get before July, chapter 30. Damn. This was actually a very important chapter now that I think about it. Kind of fitting that I got up to here. The first real apperance of Kaidan Alenko, the death of Cozek, which sadly had to be done because of him being a salarian, the induction of the first human Spectre and the return of one of my favorite characters, Redford! (I love that guy)**

 **Starting in one week, the mostly weekly updates are going to disappear, sorry but that's just not possible. I just won't have the time once I start basic training. I can write down some notes on my cellphone if I get any good ideas on what scenes to write but other than that most of my regular writing time will be occupied until at least December.**

 **I'll try, this is a very optimistic estimation, to get out a chapter once a month, something I may or may not always be able to do from now on. I really don't know.**

 **To everyone who's reading this some time after the end of June and is wondering where the rest of the story is, it is coming. Don't worry. I did not abandon it. I don't quit. I will finish Semper Vigilo. It's just going to become a lot less regular than it was before. Stick around for the ride.**

 **For the record we're at 240 reviews, 430 favorites and 521 follows.**

 **As this is kind of a milestone in the story, marking the end of regular updates, I once more would like to thank each and everyone for sticking with me to this point. The reason I am writing this is because you are reading it and for that I really appreciate the lot of you, as silent as most of you may be. I know you're there and that's what counts.**

 **Now even if it'll be a longer time until I get out the next update, I'll still try to interact with you as much as I can. So review, tell me what you think. I like knowing that.**

 **See you around next time.**


	31. Hostile Takeover

**Chapter 31. Hostile Takeover**

* * *

 **02:54 Local Time, 3. March 2401 AD** **, Mindoir** **,** **Killigan's Point Outpost**

The man raised the green mug to his lips, taking a small gulp from it before realising just how hot its content really was. In one swift motion the coffee shot out of his mouth and onto his green combat fatigues, causing him to sigh at the realisiation that he'd have to get changed now. He couldn't start his day like that. At least the cup of coffe had woken him up, just not the way he had expected, or as a matter of fact wanted it to. Looking around the armory to confirm that no one had witnessed this rather embarrassing display of self control, he was relieved to find himself as the sole occupant of the room. Good, he hardly needed that one on his card as well. Being the young, promising lieutenant hailing from Terra Nova's best military school he could hardly use another chip on his shoulder, not this early into his career. He undid the buttons of the blouse of his uniform before throwing the now stained piece of cloth into his already opened locker, deciding that no one would really care what he wore underneath his hardsuit as long as it was something. The man began grabbing the pieces of his lighter than usual armor, moving from his feet up towards his chest, clipping the single most important device to his belt as a finishing touch before the colour of the materials surrounding him started to change with the press of a button, adapting to the colony's landscape and allowing him to blend in with his surroundings.

"You're up early," he heard behind him as he spun his helmet around in his hands, the picture of a pretty, blonde woman looking back at him from its position inside the piece of green armor and, as with every time he saw it, filling him with a sense of joy. He turned his head ever so slightly and saw the source of the voice walk into the room and towards another locker, its door engraved with the sigil of their shared unit, a black lighting bolt crossing through a white triangle, obstructing his view of the person the voice belonged to as it was opened. "Couldn't sleep?" it demanded to know.

"Something like that," he replied while his arms dropped, causing the helmet and the picture to disappear from his immediate field of vision as the person behind the locker door threw a backpack onto the desk behind him, the rather large blade at its side held firmly in place by the straps it was attached to. "Just woke up half an hour ago and figured I may as well run the obstacle course a couple of times to stay sharp. No point in sitting around my room until formation," the man added as the new arrival to the room kept pulling things from his locker, a lighter version of the HSA's standardized infantry helmet, lacking an environmental seal and a visor, and a pair of glasses now placed next to the backpack on the desk as the figure behind the locker door also started to put pieces of his armor on while the man himself rotated the helmet in his hand a couple of times.

"Always the shining example," his companion replied before closing the locker door, the adaptive camouflage of his armor slowly starting to colour it from grey to a blend of green and brown, a new pattern crawling from his arms and legs, converging in the center of his torso. Flexing his fingers to confirm that the rather unique technology was functioning as intended, the ASOC operative looked back up. "At least try and not make the rest of us look like slackers, alright?" he went on as he put the shades over his blue eyes, their dark glasses standing in a stark contrast to his otherwise fair skin.

"It's not my fault that you're lazy, Hofmann" he argued as he placed his own helmet on his head, his right hand touching the soon to be filled holster on his leg to control its straps before grabbing the SIS-9, the next generation of military pistol and first complete human mass accelerator weapon, from the desk. It was a heavier than the SIS-8 but it certainly made up for its weight by having a lot more stopping power than the aged, powder-based weapon. He understood why some of his fellow soldiers preferred its predecessor, the 'Phalanx' was neither as sturdy nor as field tested as the SIS-8, but for him the fact that he had more than enough ammunition at any given time without actually having to carry any magazines at all had made the decision between the two easy. "What's your excuse?"

"I'm going for a little hike. And for the record I don't think of it as being lazy, LT, I think of it as saving my strength," Hofmann shrugged as he grabbed his backpack before walking towards a shelf which held several SR-8 rifles. The sergeant grabbed one of the hybrid rifles and slung it over his shoulder, attaching it to the combat rigging of his lighter armor all the while stuffing magazines into several of the pouches attached to his chest, only his allegiance to the army's elite forces allowing him to do so without getting into all kinds of trouble. No matter what regular officers told their grunts, ASOC played by different rules, even when they went 'hiking'.

"For what? An Iffy attack?" the lieutenant chuckled as he inspected his own hybrid rifle on the desk in front of him, finding it as well maintained as he had left it the day before, five magazines holding 30 rounds each neatly placed next to it. "The IFS hasn't been active around here for nearly a decade," he figured. It was true, Mindoir had been devoid of any separatist sympathies for a long time. Ever since the last figure head of the IFS resurgence movement, Andrej Kamarov, had turned out everything the IFS had claimed him not to be, existing cells had either split of the organisation to form their own movements or seen their more moderate members abandon their cause, moving to legal parties such as Terra Firma. While some IFS cells were still around, the separatists hadn't caused any trouble in a long time.

He would prefer it stayed like that.

"There's more out there than separatists," the sergeant offered before leaving the normally restricted area behind the currently unmanned armory chief's counter. "Break a leg, LT," he added with humor before deciding to leave the lieutenant to his own devices.

"Very funny," the officer called after him, only receiving a final wave from Hofmann as he vanished from the room the same way he had entered it, quickly and quietly. The sergeant had a point. While the IFS, an enemy he had learned to hate as he grew up, had been the first thing to pop into his mind, there were other forces out there ready and capable of hurting humanity. Smaller planets of the Fringe Worlds, or as others called this area of the galaxy, the Skyllian Verge, had been the target of effective attacks by slavers, only the HSA's naval superiority, the quick reaction of its forces already deployed to the area and the tenacity of Colonial Watches stopping large, mostly batarian bands from taking over entire colonies, factors the independent worlds that had recently suffered unprecedented raids, causing tens of thousands of people to be captured, had lacked.

As he too left the armory, walking out of the illuminated prefab building and into the darkness of Mindoir's earliest autuum hours, he paused for a moment upon seeing a small, blue flash in the night sky, a ship slowing down from FTL travel. That had to have been a dangerous mistake or a very calculated gamble. If he could see the blue-shift, it meant that the ship was very close, far closer than it should've been. Ships didn't drop out of FTL this close to a planet because even the slightest miscalculation could them to be obliterated through a catastrophic collision with the surface, a collision that would very much have equally terrible ramifications for the planet it occurred on. What reason could any sane helmsman possibly have to risk something like that or going even further, what reason could any sane captain have for giving such an order in the first place?

Deciding that it wasn't his problem, somebody else would get into a lot of trouble for that maneuver either way, he kept walking towards the obstacle course. The first part of it, a simple wooden wall came into sight after roughly five minutes of walking through a forest area, wet, orange leaves of Mindoir's eerily earth-like trees crumbling below his feet as he made his way over the path. Once more making sure that everything was held in place, he came to a halt in front of the first obstacle, taking a moment to crack his knuckles before launching into a sprint like he had done countless of times before. He leapt off the ground and grabbed a hold of the wall's edge, pulling not only his own bodyweight but also his gear over it in one practiced motion. Dropping down on the other side, he began to run again, intending to complete the next obstacle with a similar speed only to come to a halt as not just one, or two, or five but well over a dozen blue flashes caught his eye as they appeared above him. This wasn't normal. He knew that an observatory some kilometers away was manned even during these early hours so he reached out for it. They would know what was going on.

"Essix Observatory, I'm seeing some strange activity above us. Care to take a closer look?" he asked as more blue flashes appeared in the sky, but no answer came back to him. "Essix Observatory, are you receiving me? Over." Apparently they did not. The only reply he got from the compound located on a hill in the distance was the annoying sound of radio static. Maybe whoever was manning it had fallen asleep?

"KP Outpost come in, something's going on above us and Essix Observatory isn't answering. Care to give me a sitrep?" the lieutenant muttered into his radio while rubbing the back of his neck, the event occurring above him causing his instincts to tell him that something wasn't quite right. "KP Outpost?" he asked after a period of silence not unlike the one before.

Nothing.

Unlike Essix Oservatory, KP Outpost was definitely awake.

Switching the channel in an attempt to figure out if the problem was localized, he recalled that Mindoir's terrain tended to mess with radio waves even in this day and age, he dialed into the non-military channel of the town located some thirty minutes away from KP Outpost while walking towards higher terrain. First he decided to listen. Mindoir was one of the bigger planets of the Fringe, while not reaching the population numbers of the core worlds, millions of people lived on its surface so there was bound to be something going on, even in an area as rural as Killigan's Point.

"Killigan's Point, come in, over," he spoke, expecting to hear some sort of explanation for what was going on but again found only static on the other end. While not particularly big, 30.000 souls called the town their home. By all means, someone should be listening to him, even if it was the paranoid old man living in the secluded part of the town who the rest of its inhabitants tended to avoid because he smelled funny. Counting the moments in his head, he undid the device on his chest. Maybe he was the problem after all. Quickly inspecting his radio he confirmed what he already knew. It wasn't broken. The batteries were working, the wiring was in place and there was no visible damage to it. It should be working fine.

Yet he got no reply.

This was starting to get strange. Looking up into the sky, he spotted a faint orange trail breaking through the clouds in the distance, only his keen eye allowing him to realise that it did not look like the small asteroids that occasionally fell onto Mindoir. The dark shape inside the fire wasn't even remotely round, in fact it looked like a bent piece of steel.

"Calling anyone in the area around Killigan's Point, are you receiving me? Over," he asked after increasing the range of his transmission, his eyes tracking the falling object until it impacted in the distance but he only reply his question got was more white noise. Strange was slowly turning into suspicious and the chance of a localized problem was growing smaller with every level he tried to contact.

Once more changing the frequency of his radio, now having dialed into the channel used by the next bigger military installation in the believe that they were bound to reply, he pressed the button that allowed him to sent a message again. Local interference shouldn't reach that far and regional command should have an idea of what was going on. It was their job to know what was going on.

"This is KP Outpost calling the 76th Infantry Regiment, are you receiving me? I'm seeing some strange activity above Killigan's Point and communications are down, over, " the officer explained as his eyes remained locked to the sky above him, even more blue flashes blinking in and out of existence at a rapid pace. He waited for a few seconds before once more speaking into his radio. "76th Infantry, I got dozens of unknown contacts appearing above Killigan's Point. Do you copy? Over." Much to his confusion, the army unit failed to reply as well.

He grew worried as he dialed in another frequency, changing the channel for the final time. This next move may very well get him into a lot of trouble but he had tried everything else. If regional command didn't answer, planetary command was the next, and final, step he could take.

"Mindoir Command, this is Lieutenant Haugen, 3rd ASOC Batallion deployed at Killigan's Point Outpost. Are you reading me? Something's happening in orbit and I can't get a hold of the 76th. Local and regional communication is not working either and I'm seeing debris falling from the sky, over," he spoke yet again only static filled his ears as more orange trails appeared through the clouds. He was about to try again when something came through to him through the white noise after all.

"-ASV Moscow heavily dama-," it sounded through the radio between periods of static. "-nding near Killi-," the voice went on. "-emy is deploying advanced jammers and orbi-" it sounded before white noise once more made it impossible for him to understand Mindoir Command.

"Repeat your last, over," Lieutenant Tore Haugen asked when a much brighter, white flash in the night sky caused his visor to taint itself darker to shield him from the sudden influx of optical input. He wasn't a sailor but even he recognized the explosion of a space ship reactor.

"-lize all forces. Threat condition Sab-" it came through more clearly. While he hadn't figured out what was going on, he was certain that he had just heard the order calling for the complete mobilization of all HSA forces on Mindoir. Threat condition Saber One was the universal order given in the event of enemy forces landing on an HSA planet and the expected reaction of any and all human forces receiving such an order was to start the immediate evacuation of civilians in their area before complying to the overarching order given to Colonial Watches.

Hold until relieved.

He turned on his heel just as even more white flashes appeared in the night sky, cursing that he had decided to take no more than four additional magazines for his rifle in the process. He needed to get to the outpost and alert his superiors, if their communication systems were being jammed, they may not even know that the colony was under attack, they were probably fast asleep. Rushing down the hill, past the obstacle course and through the forest path he had walked on a few minutes ago, his breath grew faster as the first, faint detonation sounded somewhere in the distance. Normally he would've suspected that this was orbital bombardment but a quick look upwards confirmed that this was not the case, no streaks were shooting through the clouds and the only thing 'slowly' falling from the sky were more burning pieces of debris, most likely from the several space installations around Mindoir or the presumably now destroyed HSASV Moscow and its escorts.

As he saw the outpost appear in the distance, he suddenly felt himself being pulled from the path, a strong grip around his neck causing him to both reach for his knife and press his chin against his chest to make it harder for his attacker to choke him. He only barely registered the missile impacting with the prefab building he had been about to enter as he turned the blade in his hand around to jam it into whoever or whatever was holding him.

"Friendly," he heard a familiar voice whisper next to his head just seconds before he executed the attack, causing him to stop moving to avoid any unintended injuries.

"Hofmann," he realised as another missile hit the central barracks of the outpost, the noise of something flying over them making it very hard for him to hear even his own thoughts. "Shit we have to ge-"

"They're gone," the sergeant insisted. He knew what he was trying to do but they still had to make sure. He couldn't leave his team to die in an inferno, what kind of leader would do something like that? If there was even the slightest chance that they were alive, he had to try.

"You don't know tha-" he was interrupted,

"No, Lieutenant Haugen, they are gone. The outpost was evacuated the moment we realised what was going on," Hofmann explained as Haugen only now realised that six familiar faces were lurking in the shadows just behind the sergeant. All of them were devoid of their more advanced gear and in fact the majority of them were wearing nothing but the most basic combat uniform they had quickly grabbed on the way out. And some even lacked that, standing barefooted on the wet forest soil.

"So everyone made it out?" Lieutenant Haugen whispered as he rose from the ground, Hofmann helping him to his feet.

"Yes but we had to scatter because of the flyers. Couldn't risk one large group," the sergeant explained. "And there's a large slaver barge going down four klicks from here and once they've landed, they're gonna be heading to Killigan's Point," Hofmann informed him as his finger shot into the sky, causing Haugen to look up into the direction the NCO was pointing. There, in the distance, he found an ever larger growing shape slowly descending through the clouds. From this distance it almost looked like it was just a box with wings attached to it which, if he had to make an estimation, was slightly bigger than a human frigate. "And we have no idea where the captain went after he gave the order to evacuate. So as things are, you're in charge, Sir."

He nodded firmly as his mind began to process the situation. No one but himself and the sergeant were in any shape to take on a search party, at least not in a direct fight. They lacked armor, stopping power and shielding while their enemy would probably have all of these things and more. How they had found this rather remote outpost wasn't a question he could answer now but he knew that if one of their ships had landed here, they'd go after the actual town of Killigan Point. It was the biggest concentration of people in the area and that's what slavers were after, people.

They couldn't mount a defense and they were in no position to face their attackers in a head-on fight. But they knew the terrain and ASOC wasn't known for picking fair fights. Twenty of them had been stationed in this outpost as a reaction to reports of IFS activity within the area around the town and twenty ASOC operatives could do a lot of damage, even if they found themselves unarmed. He'd find them a target they could apply that damage to.

"We'll ambush them," he began. "They're going to check the barracks, confirm their kills. When they split up, you go after the easy targets," Haugen ordered. "Split in teams of two, get the drop on them and scavenge kinetic barriers and all weapons you can find, Sergeant Hofmann and I will take care of any bigger targets," the lieutenant kept whispering as he pulled his Phalanx from his leg to hand it to the unarmed soldier next to him before giving his knife to another, an action Hofmann repeated the moment he saw the lieutenant do it. "Once we're done with the search party, we'll regroup here, make our way into the forest and take on targets of opportunity," the officer finished before turning to the other armored ASOC operative. "Got anything useful in that bag, Sergeant Hofmann?"

"Medigel, two ropes, some wire, some basic gear, two hand grenades and an additional silencer," Sergeant Hofmann replied as Lieutenant Haugen turned towards him to find the silencer already being handed to him. "Don't ask about the hand grenades."

It would've been an interesting hiking trip for sure.

"If there's anything remotely krogan in that search party I want you to take care it," the lieutenant ordered as he screwed the device onto the barrel of his rifle. This would come in handy.

"Tripwire trap? Say no more," Hofmann agreed.

"Any questions?" Haugen asked as he looked around the small circle for a final time. "Good, let's do this.

He received seven nods from around him before giving one himself.

"They blew up the wrong outpost," the sergeant added to the words of his superior. "Let's teach them a lesson."

To that, he could only agree.

Giving the hand sign that roughly translated into 'scatter', the group spread itself out through the wet forest and alongside the path, slowly creeping towards the now destroyed remains of their former home to wait for their attackers to show up. While it had been a hardened and fortified base, the large hole in its side suggested that the explosive used on it had been tougher. Their enemies were well equipped and if the ever increasing amount of detonations in the distance, both around Killigan's Point and into the direction of the 76th Infantry Regiment was anything to go by, there were a lot of them. He could see several fires burn in the distance as the bright, orange walls lit up the night around them. Kneeling down next to a rock, he threw a glance into the direction of the slaver barge, the noise of its engines now very much audible, electric cracks echoing through the forest as surface-to-air fire impacted with its barriers, the smaller caliber rounds failing to penetrate them but the bigger ones causing visible strain to them. The brownish craft, its large mid-section, somewhat smaller stern and pointy bow now distinctive, was about to touch down as he heard a snap in the distance, the sound of its engines drowned out by a large explosion swallowing one of its wings and causing it to lose its balance. The vessel hovered for another few seconds before suddenly and violently crashing to the surface, the shockwave traveling through the ground reaching him with a slight delay.

The 76th wasn't about to give up without a fight.

Afte the explosion died down, the sound of a tree branch being stepped on caused him to turn his head to the left, to one of the several dirtpaths leading towards KP Outpost. At first he thought it might have been an animal, after all the ship had just crashed and a search party shouldn't have managed to cover that distance in such a short amount of time, but as he focused on sounds other than distant gunfire and explosions coming from the now downed vessel, he noticed the typical whining of a mass effect engine, a gunship with two distinctively empty spots on its wings rising out of the trees and towards the burning wreckage in the distance. Apparently it had carried its own search party.

His breath slowed down as he brought his scope onto the path the sound had originated from and sure enough several batarians clad in polished black armor and carrying assault rifles appeared from it mere moments after he had done so. One, two, three, four, he kept counting the number of foes emerging from the forest until the tenth and final member of the squad stepped into his field of vision.

At least no krogan, that would save their explosives for a later moment.

The all-batarian unit moved towards the burning outpost buildings, their weapons at the ready, and came to a halt in front of the large hole their transport had blown into the barracks. Through his SR-8 he could make out the squad leader, who was wearing an eyepiece instead of a helmet, give orders to his subordinates through the use of handsigns. After he was done, they split up into five teams, two of which simply walked through the burning opening of KP Outpost's biggest prefab while the other three began to patrol around the small base, one team heading towards the communications array, another walking to the burning armory he had been in mere minutes ago and yet another beginning a patrol of the perimeter. He could already see the first couple of ASOC operatives stalk the two hostiles who had most likely been ordered to inspect the small radio tower of KP Outpost.

They could take a couple of batarians, especially if they split up like this.

Slowly moving his scope over the first group of batarians being tracked by two ASOC soldiers, one carrying his own knife and the other having grabbed a rather large rock as a makeshift weapon, his finger crept towards the trigger of his rifle, ready to act should they require assistance. To their credit, the two soldiers did a fantastic job at sneaking up on the batarians, using the generator placed next to the tower as cover right until the patrol came to a halt. Then, as he saw the silver glint of his blade reflect in the little moon light Mindoir's moon was casting during this night just before it was sunken into the soft part connecting the batarian's helmet to the rest of his armor, he was ready to help out the operative with the rock should the remaining slaver turn around, an action that turned out to be unnecessary as the particularly big man smashed the grey piece of stone over the other slaver's head, causing him to drop his rifle and stumble forward. For all their usefulness, kinetic barriers did not protect from the oldest weapon mankind had ever employed, there was something morbidly funny to it really. Not satisfied with his first hit, the ASOC operative jumped onto the dazed alien, proceeding to bash the rock onto his head several times until the his helmet cracked and blood began to leak from the now crushed skull. Since it wasn't exactly a pretty picture and there might be other soldiers in need of his rifle, Lieutenant Haugen decided to search the area with his scope to find another target, losing sight of the scene just as the two soldiers began to scavenge the gear of the two batarians.

Quickly scanning the outpost, he came to a halt one he saw the armory, small explosions caused by the ammunition stored in it still going off sporadically and discouraging anyone from getting to close to it. In front of the grey prefab building he found more dying batarians, another team of the army's elite doing what they were trained to do, killing the enemy. One of the two men was beating the figure lying at his feet with the slaver's own rifle while the other had repurposed the Phalanx Haugen had given to him into a bludgeoning weapon, beating the gun's butt against a batarian's head over and over again, causing the eyepiece which identified this one as the soon to be dead leader of the small search party to break before flying to the ground after a the final hit. When the leader collapsed shortly after, the soldier decided to borrow the knife attached to the batarian's hardsuit and proceeded to finish him off with a series of stabs to the face before grabbing the brown, boxy rifle from the ground. In any other situation he would've argued that the batarian could've possibly avoided this fate had he worn a helmet but as the ASOC operative turned around to deliver a final stomp down on the neck of the already dead leader, he realised that not even a helmet would've saved him from taking on this particular soldier.

His scope lingered on the two operatives for a few more seconds before he decided to check on the final team, failing to locate them and only finding the two corpses they had left in their wake, a pool of blood gathering around one dead batarians sitting against the fence and the head of the other, who looked like he was the first to fall, being twisted at an unnatural and certainly unhealthy angle. Recalling that there should still be two teams of batarians that had walked into the outpost's barracks, Lieutenant Haugen leaned a few inches to the side to give himself a better field of view before focusing his attention on the entrance of the barracks, his HUD informing him that Sergeant Hofmann had positioned himself on a small elevation some fifty meters from him, already waiting to get the drop on the remaining batarians. After resting the rifle against the corner of the rock he used for cover, the ASOC officer pressed his SR-8 against his shoulder once he saw a foot clad in black armor step out of what remained of the outpost's main building. The orange light of the fire burning inside caused the slaver and the three batarians beside him to cast a visible shadow onto the ground in front of them, allowing Haugen to get a good picture of how they would soon leave the building. Normally he would've used the squad intercom to perfectly synchronize his shot with the sergeant but as things were there were still jamming devices in place that prevented him from that.

Luckily the army had trained them even for this event.

As the batarians stepped out in a neat line, most likely wondering just where there comrades had disappeared to, he simply trusted that Hofmann was paying attention, squeezing the trigger of his silenced SR-8 just strong enough for a single round to leave its barrel. The bullet tore through the air and shattered the batarian's barriers before either he or his comrades knew what was going on. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, his head exploded into a pink mist, pieces of his skull and his brain staining the wall of the burning barracks. Just as his comrades turned to look at their now dead ally, the two ASOC operatives continued their onslaught. He fired again and again, shattering another set of barriers just as the batarian at the other end of the formation dropped dead and as soon as the shooting had started, it stopped.

He paused for a moment, lowering his rifle after flicking on the safety, and upon seeing the six now armed but still unarmored ASOC operatives fall back from the perimeter of KP Outpost, he waved into the direction he knew Hofmann to be in, causing a previously almost invisible form to rise and jog over towards him, his camouflage dissolving itself during the trip.

That had gone better than expected.

"-orces near Killigan's Point be advised, large enemy transport group heading towards you-," it came through his radio between a lot of white noise, "-jority of enemy forces moving to your position. Prepare to contai-"

As soon as the words left his radio, a noise above him caused him to look up.

He just had to jinx it, hadn't he?

There, at the edge of the clouds lingering over Killigan's Point, four more slaver barges began to descend, dozens of smaller dots flying around them. Some of them swiftly turned into small orange dots as a mixture of tracer fire and missiles tore their hulls apart but even with the 76th best efforts, he knew that these ships would make it to the ground.

This would be a long night.

* * *

 **04:39 Local Time, 3. March 2401 AD,** **Mindoir,** **New Alexandria**

"And someone kill that damn sniper," he grunted as a miniscule round jumped of the car in front of him and only barely missing his head in the process, something that only further ruined his mood. Instead of field-testing the new Mako IFV as promised, he and the roughly hundred soldiers he had managed to gather at a moment's notice were currently trying, and failing at that, to keep an enemy force from making their final push into the city. The unit made up of both combat and non-combat personal was making its stand on a highway bridge that would've been full of vehicles in less than one hour, at least the timing of the slavers had been off. A few minutes later and this whole fight would've been even uglier than it already was. Breaking into a sprint to quickly cover the gap between the burned out car he was currently using for cover and the Hammerhead APC he intended to reach, the officer felt a round jump of his shields just before reaching the much more reliable cover of the greenish-brown camouflaged vehicle, leaving behind the damaged family van and the dead people inside it. As things were enemy forces were moving towards the city from the east and the south, the later of which he was currently taking part in defending and in his professional opinion this wasn't as much a slaver raid as it was an invasion.

"What's the ETA on our reinforcements?" he roared towards the specialist taking shelter behind the already damaged armored vehicle, the large backpack standing next to him being the only piece of radio equipment giving a reliable link to Mindoir Command, at the moment the only place on Mindoir able to provide something akin to coordination. The jammers had really done a number on their communications network, something like this hadn't happened in a long time. Some egghead would get into a lot of trouble for this and right about now he had no issue with that.

While waiting for an answer, the officer threw a glance towards the only reason their line was still holding, bracing himself as its railgun fired once more, something violently exploding in the distance once Newton's laws of motion were applied to it. As the maingun of the Grizzly reloaded, its turret turning a few inches to the left in preparation for destroying its next target, the specialist answered.

"They're not coming, Colonel!" the man called over the sound of battle as he clutched the bigger radio to the side of his head, metallic screeches filling the air around them as a heavier mass accelerator focused its fire on their position. Luckily for them, the armor of the Hammerhead seemed to hold for the moment. "The 161st is busy locking down the east side of New Alexandria, the 5th is evacuating people into the shelters and the 76th has their hands full with the main landing force near Killigan's Point."

"Give me that," he simply replied as he took the radio from the specialist, pushing down the talk-button. "This is Colonel Oleg Petrovsky on the southern end of New Alexandria, we need relief and we need it now," he shouted without even pausing to ask who he was talking to. "If you don't send us backup, this line is going to break and once that happens, the batarians will have a literal highway into New Alexandria. Unless that's what you're looking forward to, I suggest you send another battalion to this position!"

"We can't spare anyone at the moment, Colonel," it came back to him in a much calmer fashion.

Nearly eight million people lived on Mindoir and at the moment roughly 30,000 members of the armed forces should be planetside. He didn't believe that there was no one left to send.

"You're telling me that several regiments are all bound fighting a couple thousand slavers?" he asked as he saw the specialist next to him turn out of cover just far enough to take potshots at the advancing wave of vorcha attackers. "If this line falls, they can just walk into the city. At least give us some fire support."

"You're facing a smaller infantry force," sure as hell didn't feel like it from Petrovsky's perspective, "other units require assistance far more than you do. Most of our air assets are trying to clear the sky and our artillery batteries are busy with enemy armor pushing from the east. Other available forces in the area are being sent to deal with krogan and vorcha mercenaries wreaking havoc in the suburbs," the man on the other end of the radio explained as the colonel grew angrier with each word he spoke, even if they made sense. "Everyone other than that is being moved to prepare a counterattack on the main landing site near Killigan's Point. Hold until relieved, Colonel. I'm sorry but Mindoir Command over and out." the voice offered before the line was closed from the other side.

Self control and the knowledge of how invaluable the device was kept Colonel Petrovsky from throwing the radio to the ground out of sheer frustration. They were on their own. He handed the radio back to the specialist as he once more threw a glance at the Grizzly, its machine guns spitting tracer rounds through the early morning darkness, the nightvision in his helmet allowing him to see what the tank was targeting in the distance, small, vorcha-like figures dropping to the ground as the armor piercing rounds tore them apart.

They would hold to the last man, he didn't doubt that, it was just a question if they would be relieved before that. As long as their tank was still in the fight and, more importantly, as long as it still had ammunition, the slaver forces would be kept at bay but Petrovsky knew that the Grizzly would run out of ammunition before the slavers ran out of vorcha, at least that's what the quick look at the series of transports landing in the distance led him to believe. Hearing the electric sound of the railgun preparing to fire once more, he braced himself just in time for the sonic boom to fly past him, something that would be very dangerous for anyone not wearing a hardsuit. Quicker than his eyes could comprehend, one of the transports that had made an approach to land exploded into a mixture of smoke, fire and shrapnel, the Grizzly's round finding its mark. The force of the detonation caused another transport to lose its stability and soon enough another craft came crashing down in the distance, falling right on top of several squads in the process of deploying.

Lucky shot.

But then their luck turned from good to bad just as quickly.

The first explosion was easily warded off by the tank's shields but the one that followed actually managed to collapse the protective bubble, exposing the Grizzly to the third missile. At first its point defense system and more importantly the crew did what they were trained to do, deploy smoke and drive backwards but as he saw another series of missiles approaching the tank he knew what would happen next. Grabbing the specialist by the arm, he began to run.

"Get clear!" he got out of his mouth just as the first missile of the pack exploded mid-air, destroyed by the Grizzly's missile defenses but still unloading its deadly payload above the highway and over the heads of some unfortunate soldiers that hadn't reacted to Petrovsky's orders in time. As they were torn apart by the explosion, the colonel kept running before he heard something fly through the air behind him, time slowing down as he tried to turn his head.

Then he felt himself being thrown forwards as his shields collapsed, a large piece of metal embedding itself in his arm and very nearly cutting the limb off in the process. As he lay on the asphalt of the highway, from the corner of his eye being able to look at the burning wreckage of the MBT, he saw one of its crew members desperately trying to exit the tank before a secondary explosion swallowed him. The colonel was ready to accept his fate, the military mind in him had told him that it was only been a matter of time before the slavers called in an airstrike on a target as annoying as that tank but the optimist in him had hoped that it wouldn't happen because of the predominantly vorcha force they were facing. Not that it mattered, it was not like they had had another option, the Grizzly had to be where it had been to allow the prolongued defense of the highway in spite of the danger it was in. He had known that and the crew had known that, such was the nature of war, sacrfices had to be made to achieve victory.

Not that this knowledge made losing soldiers any easier.

He didn't want the last thoughts in his life to be how much he hated the slavers but as the blackness crept into his eyes, only barely registering the specialist trying to apply medigel to him as bullets tore over their heads, he couldn't help it. They had killed thousands of his people and now they'd kill even more. The highway would fall and they'd walk straight into New Alexandria. He felt himself being carried into cover once more, now facing the way he had come from not an hour ago and decided to wait until a slaver walked up, his hand slowly traveling towards his sidearm.

He wouldn't make it easy for them either.

As the seconds passed, the hope that he'd get a final shot at these monsters was starting to dwindle but then he saw something he hadn't ever expected to be glad to see. Rising from the street below the bridge and quickly becoming more visible as it climbed upwards, a grey APC with a white heptagon printed on its red frontal armor raced towards their position, five barely readable letters he had always associated with the enemy delivering a sense of hope to him once he saw the small canon on its top fire into the direction of the vorcha horde, militiamen clad in either no or only light armor pouring from its back once it came to a stop while similar vehicles with the same abbreviation came into view behind it. He didn't care where they had hidden these things from them and he didn't care what kind of political disaster this would cause in the long run. He only cared that for once, the enemy of his enemy was in fact his friend, no matter how much bad blood existed between the two parties it would seem that right about now they had found some common ground. Seeing one of the figures in lighter armor rush towards him, he dropped the pistol in spite of the five letters engraved on the man's outdated hardsuit.

For the first time in Oleg Petrovsky's life the letters 'IFSDF' were not a reason to open fire.

He would've laughed at the irony of the HSA leaving him and his men to die after nearly three decades of service while the foe he had fought for years came to his aid in his hour of need but before he could do so, he blacked out.

* * *

 **5:01 Local Time, 3. March 2401 AD** **, Mindoir** **, Field near Killigan's Point**

From his position on a small hill overlooking the clearing the ships had landed in he could see yet another group of unfortunate civilians being herded towards the slaver barges through his scope, discipline and the knowledge that he couldn't help them right now stopping him from putting a hole into the batarian walking behind them. The alien was regularly using a seemingly painful program on his omni-tool to keep them moving through the high grass and with each time he activated it, Haugen felt his finger get closer to the trigger.

"That's a lot of tanks," the ASOC soldier next to him said as the ramp of the transport vessel began to lower itself, revealing rows of Votham tanks in different stages of readiness. "76th is going to be in alot of trouble if they start rolling."

"Come to think of it, why hasn't there been a counter attack yet?" Hofmann asked as he handed his binoculars to the soldier next to him. "We're letting them set up a beachhead nearly uncontested. Sure 76th is busy but there are more units planetside," the sergeant reasoned.

"They probably have orbital superiority. Any large troop movements would be suicide at the moment. The only reason we're not being pounded right now is because slavers don't profit from collateral damage," the lieutenant replied as several dozen missiles began their ascend in the distance, most likely targeting any approaching vessel. "Until we take care of their space assets, there won't be an attack."

He knew that the counter attack was being halted not only because of any potential enemy orbital assets but also because there were already hundreds if not thousands of prisoners aboard these vessels. On their way towards this landing side, the ASOC unit had encountered a group of captured civilians, freeing them after ambushing their guards on the narrow paths leading through the forest. From what the injured soldier who had been part of the group had told him before Lieutenant Haugen had ordered him to hide the civilians in the forest, the situation in Killigan's Point had gone from somewhat under control to horrible really fast. Whoever the slavers couldn't capture, or who they believed not to be worth the effort, they massacred. The forces sent by the 76th Infantry had been overwhelmed after biotics had attacked their position and the rest of their regiment was engaging the enemy's main force, effectively leaving the town undefended. From the look on the corporals face, it was even worse than it sounded. While his group had been making their way to this clearing, the batarians had started to turn Killigan's Point into a ghost town. He didn't believe that the soldier was exaggerating when he had claimed that the slavers had taken just about anyone living there by now.

"Just how many of these things did they cramp into that ship?" he heard another operative ask as he used his scope to take another look at the transport, spotting mechanics buzzing between the tanks, readying them for deployment.

"A lot," he replied. "There's a road leading to the 76th near this clearing. It's the fastest way to the front," the lieutenant added as his scope shifted to allow him a clear line of sight onto the bigger, more developed path. "We've got to stop them from getting there."

"Come again, Sir?" Hofmann asked.

"It'll take some time to unload them," Haugen began as his scope zeroed in on one of the slaver barges, several of its canons pointing directly at the open ramp of the transport and the crews working on the Votham tanks.

"Boarding a ship while its on land?" the sergeant chuckled as he realised just what Haugen was looking at. "Does that make us pirates or car thieves?"

"Don't think of it as boarding, think of it as borrowing," the officer replied as he began to crawl down the hill. "With me, watch your spacing," he added and after the press of a button he disappeared into thin air. While the intangible was as a matter of fact not entirely indomitable, being almost invisible to the naked eye was still an incredible advantage to have. Especially in situations such as this one.

The ASOC operatives did exactly as they were told, not wasting a single minute to question this borderline insane plan, and followed their leader towards the clearing, they all knew what was at stake. The eight soldiers cleared the small part of the hill that wasn't covered in vegetation unnoticed and soon entered the high grass of the clearing, slowly moving towards their intended target in the cover of the night. Tore Haugen came to a halt as he heard and felt another group of feet marching towards him, slowly flicking off the safety of his SR-8 should he be spotted. Slightly behind him and on his left he saw another ASOC operative, his forearms covered in a mixture of dirt and blood from crawling over several sharp rocks, do the same, his eyes darting towards the lieutenant, only able to tell where he was because he knew the small giveaways optical camouflage had.

The footfalls came closer and soon enough he could hear the weeping of children, the ragged breath of adults and the shouting of batarians. By the sound of it a large group was headed for the slaver barges.

"Halt," a deep voice ordered as the group came to a stop not two meters from him. His eyes made out the shape of a young woman wearing red pajamas. She had collapsed to the ground near him, parts of her blonde hair stained with red from a bleeding wound on her head, tears running down her face and dripping towards the ground alongside droplets of blood. "I said get up," the slaver demanded as he stepped just in front of Lieutenant Haugen. The officer saw him kick the woman, hearing her let out a cry of pain once his armored boot connected with her ribcage.

The resemblance made it all the harder to watch.

He shook his hand towards the man on his left as he gritted his teeth, taking care not to move too fast due to the proximity of the slaver. They couldn't risk it and they wouldn't risk it. Both of them wanted to do something about the events occurring mere inches in front of his face but both also knew that breaking concealment would achieve nothing. They couldn't save her right now and if they tried they wouldn't be able to save her later down the line.

"Final chance, get up or I put you down for good," Tore Haugen heard, still restraining himself from putting the source of the commands down for good. His eyes were focused on the parts of the woman he could make out through the high grass and the gap between the batarian's legs, locking onto the pained expression on the her face. He prepared himself to witness her death but as she pushed herself of the ground, weakly rising to her feet, he realised that it might not occur after all. The batarian grabbed her by the wrist, throwing her back into the row before stepping away from the ASOC officer, unaware of how close he had come to the person who'd soon kill him.

"Good, we'll have fun later," the slaver promised before addressing the crowd again, allowing Tore Haugen to etch his features into his mind. Brown and yellow stripes on the side of his head and an ugly shade of brown covering the rest of his face, a face he'd remember. "Move it, vermin!"

They would not if he had anything to say about it.

The group moved past him and he could already see other ASOC operatives make their way forward. Once he was in the clear as well, he too began crawling again, somewhat faster than his allies since he was more than confident in his camouflage's ability to hide him. The dark-brown metal of the foremost slaver barge's hull came closer and closer and soon enough he found himself next to it, its ramp open to 'allow' another group of slaves to walk inside, their batarian guards more than eager to herd them. His HUD outlined his allies as he and the sergeant rose in unison, their near-invisibility allowing them to check the area around them. All of them had made it to the craft in one piece and were now waiting for his sign.

Tore Haugen looked to his left and then to his right and once he spotted no batarian's in the immediate area, he gave the sign for the rest of the unit to rise. The darkness was working in their favour but if the digital clock inside his HUD was any indication, that advantage would disappear in less than an hour minutes. The trip across the field had taken longer than anticipated after all and getting out again might become impossible.

Not that his plan lowered their chances of discovery.

"Two groups," he whispered as he nodded towards Hofmann. "Make your way to the left battery, I'll take the right one. We'll start firing at the same time. If you don't hear from me in ten minutes, start on your own," Haugen ordered before three of the unarmored ASOC operatives found their way to him.

"Execute," he threw a final nod towards Hofmann before taking point.

The lieutenant took a sharp turn around the hull of the slaver barge, entering the ship through its ramp and stepping inside its equally dark-brown inside. The area they entered looked like something out a nightmare. Kneeling in rows, he estimated that there had to be at least 200 people in an area that wasn't even big enough for fifty. The woman wearing red pajamas among them did not go unnoticed by him either. He walked towards the inside wall of the vessel and pressed himself against it just as several of the slavers dragged the uniformed people of the crowd, who by the looks of it had been too injured to resist capture. They gathered the nine servicemen in a circle in front of the captured civilians and a batarian in dark-red armor stepped in front of them, the stripes on the side of his head and the sound of his voice both features that caused Haugen to recognize him.

"Just so you don't get any ideas," he called towards the crowd before his omni-tool lit up orange, a net of some kind shooting from it and latching onto the soldiers who began to scream in pain the moment it made contact with them. "This is called a submission net and there are far more from where it came from," the slaver grinned as his needle-like teeth revealed themselves before he once more walked out of the hanger, most likely to capture another group. The ASOC officer kept moving slowly, the still visible members behind him being even more careful than he was, until he saw a stairway leading up to an open door, something akin to a control room appearing to be just behind it. The group maneuvered through the hangar and the closer they got to the stairs, the heavier a strange feeling in his gut became. Something even worse than slavery was going on here, he just knew it.

"Ready up," he whispered before throwing a glance behind him. The batarians were still busy with tormenting their captives. Now was their chance. "Go, go."

The group swiftly climbed up the stairs as the screams of their comrades drowned out the little sound their footsteps made going upwards. His rifle remained steadily in front of him while his eyes scanned the area around him. It would seem that only a token force had been left behind to process their captives, a choice that would cost them dearly soon. The lieutenant's feet left the final stair and not a moment later he stepped into the open command room, spotting a batarian standing in front of a large window overlooking something ahead of the hangar. The alien wore no armor and was only clad in a grey jumpsuit, this made things easier. He let his rifle down as he pulled the knife from his left shoulder, creeping up on the batarian as he heard the faintest footsteps of soldiers entering the room behind him. The slaver didn't even realise that he had company.

He'd enjoy this one.

His armored gauntlet moved over the batarian's mouth, covering the orange skin of his mouth and pulling his head backwards in the process. As the slaver tried struggling against his unknown and invisible assailant, Haugen's knife drove deep into the throat of the batarian, tearing apart the flesh in its path with ease. Once its hilt touched the batarian's neck, he twisted the blade so its tip pointed towards the window and proceeded to rip the knife out, a fountain of blood staining the window dark-red while he held onto the batarian, waiting for the last signs of life to stop, staring into four eyes filled with fear yet feeling nothing but satisfaction. Once his struggling stopped, the lieutenant sheated his knife, ripping of a piece of the slaver's jumpsuit to clean up the mess he had made on the window to keep any observant batarian from suspecting something. He rubbed the cloth over the blood stains exactly once before dropping it to the ground, a sick feeling creeping up in his gut.

There, beyond the hangar and just below them, several figures in sterile white biohazard suits were performing what could best be described as perverted brain surgery. Several dozen civilians were tied to chairs within the white hall below them, their backs facing towards the ceiling and small streams of blood flowing to drains placed on the floor. He was no expert but as he saw a batarian open up the back of one man's skull before placing a small sphere in it, he realised what they were doing.

He had heard that human captives, not unlike turian ones, were not exactly popular on the batarian slave markets because they tended to be more trouble than they were worth. Apparently the batarians had found a solution to that issue, he didn't know how they had done it but that much was evident. He looked to his right and spotted a human who had just survived the procedure. The man got up, blood now drying on his back, walked a few paces and came to a stop at the end of a row of equally obedient patients, showing no reaction whatsoever to the corpse being shoved into an incinerator next to him, the streams of blood flowing over his feet or the presumably horrible smell inside.

"What the fuck is this," he was torn from his thoughts by an ASOC operative that had come to check on him.

"Cranial implants," he replied dryly. They were jamming small devices into people to turn them into obedient puppets.

"Bastards," the man replied as he began to walk away, stopping when he found Haugen unwilling to move. "Sir?" he asked as the lieutenant remained at the window.

"Change of plans," Haugen finally spoke. "Find a way to close the hangar ramp, kill every slaver down there and save as many of the civilians as you possibly can."

He knew it was an emotional decision but in face of the butchery below him, he had to make it. No more.

"Yes, Sir," the soldier said as he turned to his two equally disturbed comrades. "You heard him, let's put a stop to this."

Raising his rifle, Lieutenant Tore Haugen opened the next door, revealing a walkway and even more slaves below him. The batarian guard downstairs looked upwards to the open door but upon finding no one, his camouflage still hiding the ASOC operative, turned his attention back towards the rows of slaves, presumably sceptical of the means used to keep them in check.

"Resistance is stiffer than expected," he heard someone say, his tone and gear suggesting that he was in some position of power. "Word has it we're pulling out at the end of the day."

"We haven't even been here for a day," another protested. "What is the commander thinking?"

"It's not your place to question our commander," the first batarian reminded his companion as Haugen came closer to the next door, his SR-8 still ready to shoot down anyone who could spot him. "The humans are gathering their ground forces for a counter attack and their fleets are probably being mobilized as we speak. Orbital command says we can't take them in a fair fight and the small flotilla took out our ground guns. When the HSA brings an actual fleet we won't stand a chance either. It's better to pull out earlier. Besides, I'm not liking the chatter about FTL signatures either. Rumor has it their fleet was enroute to this world already."

"The Hegemony wants us to bring in at least 200.000 slaves," the second slaver said as Haugen saw him look up something on his omni-tool. "We just processed a little more than 40.000. If we leave early, we won't get anywhere close to that number."

"When the Vothams are ready to attack the city, that number will climb."

"We still have to get offworld, several barges have already been grounded by precision attacks on their engines."

"Have a little faith, Khalat," the other insisted just as the ASOC operative opened the door, finding two batarian crew members turning towards him in their chairs, attempting to get to him.

They didn't stand a chance.

His SR-8 fired exactly six rounds, the silencer ensuring that he wouldn't be spotted. Each batarian received two hits to the chest and one into the center of their four-eyed faces, causing one of them to fall backwards into the chair he had just gotten up from, red liquid staining the control screens behind him, and the other to fall to the side, hitting the floor with a wet thud as his face remained locked in a surprised expression, the large hole in the back of his head ensuring he'd never take part in something like this ever again. The lieutenant walked over towards the control board and began to work, first and foremost closing the doors behind him to lower the chance of being shot in the back. He received a ping in his HUD just as he figured out what control panel was linked to the guns and wiped the blood of it.

Hofmann was ready and so was he.

Pressing down the button, the guns on the front of the ship began to move, now pointing towards the ramp of the armored transport, the first Votham rolling out of its front just as his fingers touched the trigger, blissfully unaware of his impending death. Tanks were tough but spaceships were tougher and as such even the small mass accelerators cannons attached to the frigate-sized vessel would do a lot of damage to anything that wasn't a spaceship. The first round left the gun's magazine with a deafening roar, the lack of air in space usually preventing this sound from happening. It obliterated the Votham which had began to move, punching not only through it but also digging into the one behind it, reducing the one batarian still working on it into a smear of dark red mush. Haugen fired another shot just as Hofmann began doing his biding on the other side of the ship. The next round drilled through a fuel tank located near the rear of the armored transport's hangar, the flames of its explosion expanding into all directions and setting both mechanics and munitions on fire, triggering an even bigger detonation in the process and tearing out a good chunk of the ship's hangar wall in the process.

Then the lieutenant figured out that the gun he was manning was not just semi-automatic. Pressing down the trigger, mass accelerator rounds meant to be fired against armored space ships found themselves rapidly being used against things which were not nearly as protected as their intended targets. The rounds cut through the transport, destroying Votham after Votham and killing dozens probably even well over a hundred of batarians before the lieutenant shifted his aim towards one of the slaver barges, targeting their guns just as they began turning towards him. He kept shooting, moving towards the engines in the process, disabling the three other ships one after another. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes began blending together as he kept switched guns, expending magazine after magazine into anything remotely batarian. The rage that had built up in him translated into an onslaught, squads of batarians being reduced to reddish mist upon their arrival to the scene as he turned the ship's point defense systems against them. The aircraft they sent to investigate what was going on and why their tanks never arrived suffered a similar fate and finally a slaver barge descending from the sky became the target of his revenge. At some point he stopped counting just how many he had killed, never even considering why orbital bombardment hadn't taken him out yet, the conversation he had overheard before nothing but a blur.

Even as the darkness outside disappeared, Mindoir's sun slowly rising to its zenith being the only indication of just how long he had stood in the control room, he kept looking for targets. The only thought occupying his mind was that of the butchery he had witnessed and that thought only started to dissolve as both Paladins and squads of marines began to be deployed through the use of Kodiaks.

"Sir?" he heard behind him, causing him to turn his head ever so slightly, the sergeant standing in the doorway. "It's done, Sir. The Hawking has arrived and the remaining slavers are making a run for it. We're relieved."

"What about the civilians aboard?"

"They're safe Sir. Traumatized but safe."

"How many?" he asked into the room while dropping back into the empty chair, the batarian corpse now sitting next to him. "How many did they butcher?"

"I don't know, Sir," Hofmann sighed as he handed him a bottle of water, exhaustion only catching up to him after he had sat down.

"Too many," he whispered before borrowing his face in his hands. They'd pay, he'd make sure of that.

* * *

 _Codex: Armored Warfare in the Age of Mass Effect Technology_

 _Whether IFVs, APCs, hovercraft or traditional tracked tanks, every race of the galaxy at one point embraced the concept of an armored ground vehicle capable of leading an attack into otherwise unobtainable territory, a concept several races largely abandoned upon discovering the mass effect and rise of orbital and aerial dominance accompanying it. While APCs, hovercrafts and IFVs remain popular, tanks have become a dying breed in most militaries, being seen as too immobile and too big of a target to be valuable._

 _While tanks are still very much popular among the less developed regions of the Terminus Systems, only three major militaries in the galaxy still employ them in large numbers, the Batarian Hegemony, the Turian Hierarchy and the Human Systems Alliance, the later of which remains the sole user of the Mechanized Support Combat Suit, Paladin, (See Entry: Paladin Mechanized Support Combat Suit) a system some military strategists believe to be capable of ending armored warfare as a whole should it ever become, or rather be made, usable for non-humans._

 _While human and turian approaches to armored warfare are remarkably similar, both relying on maneuverability, combined arms tactics and precision, the batarian approach is unique. Instead of opting to not get hit at all, batarian tanks are simply constructed to take more punishment than their opponent. Laybers of sloped armor and powerful kinetic barriers, claimed to be capable of stopping even the rounds of a spaceship-grade mass accelerator by its manufacturer Batarian State Arms, batarian tanks are best described as 'landships', a design philosophy both the human and turian people abandoned soon after experiencing their first tastes of large scale, continuous armored warfare, an occurrence which scale is unheard of in the history of other galactic societies._

 _However even in face of this apparent inexperience, some of the results can't be argued Votham, the newest incarnation of batarian armor, remains the single toughest armored vehicle in the galaxy, being the only known target to withstand more than two 'Voshal' missiles in rapid succession, the most potent anti-tank weapon in the galaxy. Furthermore its destructive capabilities also make it a force to be reckoned with, the dual mass accelerator canons turning it into a deadly adversary._

 _It should be noted that prolonged armored combat between human or turian and batarian forces has previously favoured the mobile approach of the two Council members and that the newest generation of Votham tanks, the Votham Mk2, has yet to face either of the two in the field of battle._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So chapter 31. Sooner than expected and longer than expected and sadly for a very good reason.**

 **I've been keeping you up to date with some things in my life that might influence the update rate of this story and I will keep doing this so I'm just going to say it. Out of personal reasons (their nature is really a bit too personal to just write them down here) I had to request my discharge from the army, something which sucked.**

 **A lot.**

 **It was also a shock if I'm honest but hey, that's life.**

 **The short taste I got of being a soldier was actually nice, I liked it, the people were cool and there was something about having your first job being the thing you wanted to do growing up.**

 **Yet that didn't change the fact that I had to leave and that I probably won't be coming back again, which of course means I got to set my backup plans into motion now, something that's also going to change the flow of updates Semper Vigilo is going to experience from now on.**

 **But as I said that's life I guess, one door closes another one opens. I'm a big believer in shit happening for a reason, a theme that may or may not have already become evident in Semper Vigilo.**

 **Hence this part of the A/N**

 **Enough of talking about personal issues, that's not what you're here for. I got friends for that shit :p You're here for the story :D**

 **To the chapter.**

 **Did somebody saaay origin story? Because this is basically what Mindoir is for one of the more important characters outside of Shepard's crew. Some who regulary read the codex probably already guessed who he is going to turn out to be as the chapter unfolded, I think its pretty obvious but then again I know who he is, but for those that don't, I'll keep my mouth shut for now. Haugen will come back.**

 **I'll get to writing 32 as soon as I can because until friday, the day my first backup plan is set into motion, there's not a whole lot I can do so who knows, I may get out another chapter sooner than later.**

 **For the record we're at 254 reviews, 449 favorites and 540 follows.**

 **Tell me what you think, this is the biggest chapter up to now, the one after this probably won't be close to its size but hey, this is also really important.**

 **I'm rambling.**

 **See you around next time.**


	32. Chasing the Rabbit

**Chapter 32. Chasing the Rabbit**

* * *

 **5\. March 2401 AD, Cronos Station**

"Thousands taken, even more than that reduced to catatonic shells. A death toll climbing into the tens of thousands, a moral victory for the IFS and the very real possibility of a war with the Batarian Hegemony," Rei muttered as he sat in his office, the man standing in front of him only visible due to the bright star behind him casting its light into the room.

"Yet that's not why I'm here, is it?" Harper replied, his uniform still as well maintained as the day he had technically been discharged from Section 13. While if it was no longer expected of him to even wear it, the uniform meant more to the man than any suit ever could.

"No," his former partner replied as his eyes remained fixed on the image displayed by the tablet in his hands, it's smooth surface and the description of its basic functions causing more than just anger to surface in him. "No that's not why you're here," he repeated while his index finger pushed down a button on the tablet.

"Now we know just what they were doing with the Leviathan," the other man muttered as blue light flooded into the center of the room, the black floor revealing its real purpose. The shape of the device removed from one of the unfortunate victims of the slavers appeared between them as the countless of small hologram projectors installed within the panels began their work.

"It's less sophisticated," Tao said as a picture that had been taken during the Fringe Wars , showing one of the several implants removed from a dead IFS miner, manifested itself next to the batarian device. "But the visual similarity speaks for itself. There's no way this is not based on the technology they found on Jartar."

"The next question we have to answer is if they know just what they are dealing with. Working with the artifacts is all kinds of dangerous."

"It's the batarians, even if they know, they probably don't care," Rei frowned. "It's not like we can call them out on what they're doing either way."

"True," Harper replied. "Best case scenario, people call us crazy, worst case scenario people buy it, panic and we tear each other apart before the Harbinger has to lift as much as a finger."

"Assuming he has something like fingers," the Section 13 director snorted in face of the situation they were in. "What's Arcturus saying to all of this?"

Ever since Chancellor Noé had retired, a combination of increasing slaver raids being blamed on his administration and the fading memory of his past leadership during the Fringe Wars leading to unfavorable chances of being reelected, the leader of humanity was once more unaware of the Object Omnicrons and the Harbinger, a fact that was limiting their efforts considerably. Even if said efforts had turned up nothing for years. Still, unlike Noé, neither Jack Harper nor he himself trusted his replacement enough to reveal the situation just yet. She was too much of a wildcard for now.

The previous chancellor had proven himself time and again to the both of them, years of hardship paying witness to his ability to lead even during trying times and keep secrets when necessary. Noé had been put into power during the worst conflict humanity had ever experienced, a time in which the HSA may very well have collapsed. And in face of these times he had still managed to not only hold the alliance together but built it back up from the ground. He had remained at the helm of humanity's ship as it sailed through the stars, providing guidance when the HSA encountered alien civilizations part of a community far older than it. Noé had been in charge when that community had shown its dark side and he had been the one to give the order to strike out against those who had attempted to extinguish humanity's growing fire, sadly setting of events that would eventually be used against him. Finally he had lead them to where they currently were and most importantly listened to them when they had told him not to make their findings public knowledge.

While his replacement had also played an important role in putting mankind on the path it was on right now, using her diplomatic skills to jumpstart a journey others had taken centuries to even consider, she had not done half the things Noé had done before they had entrusted what may very well be the most important secret of human history onto him.

"Chancellor Goyle has been rather opposed to military action, she has called for a formal hearing of both the batarian representatives and Ambassador Udina in front of the Citadel Council."

"That's it?"

"Noé has always been a soldier at heart, it's in his blood to react the way he did. She's a politician and more importantly a diplomat. She'll exhaust every other option before resorting to violence, even if the people are calling for it," Harper reasoned. "But no, that's not it."

"What else?"

"Until further notice, the army's in charge on Mindoir. The IFS militias disappeared the moment they heard that the navy had arrived and we still have no idea where they vanished to. Considering the gear they brought to bear against the slavers, Goyle is concerned, very much so."

"Something tells me that the forces of Mindoir's Colonial Watch are leaving the Fringe?" the director asked after he had turned his attention away from the projection in the center of the room and towards his tablet, the newest IFS propaganda of two worn down but still heroic-looking militiamen carrying an injured army soldier to safety fueling his question.

"Officially the call was made to replace losses and treat the injured but inofficially," Harper began, only for Rei to interrupt him. He knew exactly what the actual motive behind the order was.

"They are being moved as far away from the IFS as possible. Lots of green soldiers among them. Most of them never fought the IFS before and now they've bled with them. Special forces can blend that out but the regulars? They are going to be reluctant to fight them from now on. Hardly anyone likes shooting at the people they fought side by side with. That's the beginning of a bond we can't afford."

The specialist across of him remained silent after Tao had finished his sentence, a choice that surprised him. Jack Harper had been the specialist that dealt the killing blow to the separatist's public image, a blow that had ended the Fringe Wars. Operation Good Citizen, had been one of the few missions during which Section 13 had explicitly been ordered to leave no survivors. If anything he would've expected Harper to voice his own concern about the possibility of HSA soldiers becoming too attached to people they were supposed to fight in face of the lenghts he had personally gone to put an end to them. Yet no such concern was voiced.

"Jack?" he asked to break the silence that was causing him to think about questions he'd rather not have to answer. "Anything else?"

"Not from the chancellor, no," the former specialist said as he broke his silence, the omni-tool on his wrist coming to life as Tao Rei's tablet received its request to transfer a data stream. "However Cerberus found something of interest, something you should defiantly hear."

Accepting the transfer, he found the transfer to contain a single audio file, originating from none other than the Cerberus taskforce charged with tracking down the Shadow Broker and preventing him from taking any action against the HSA. They hadn't been successful at either of these tasks.

"Surely this has been a great morale victory for your cause," a deep voice growled through his tablet, its distinctive undertone audible yet hard to place on any known speech patterns. "This reveal of their incompete-"

"I didn't ask for your opinion," a heavily distorted, almost robotic voice talked back. While most people would've delivered such a statement with at least some form of emotion, the voice maintained a completely neutral tone.

"Why does this information concern you?" the first, deeper voice asked, an incredibly low tone accompanying each word of the sentence. It didn't sound as if it was part of whatever voice distortion device the person was using yet is wasn't a part of its speech either. It was something else, something in the background perhaps?

"Are you going to answer the question or are you going to waste my time?" the robotic-like voice countered, keeping his interest into the matter a secret. "I don't have all day."

"You'd do well to remember your place," the other simply answered.

"No, you'd do well to remember who can tear down half your network in human space with a single word. I'm not Kamarov, I'm not going to play your little intimidation games. Answer the question," the second voice threatened, the actual emotions behind the threat once more strangely absent.

"The surviving mercenaries are more reluctant than usual to talk about the details of this raid," the deeper voice growled after a moment of silence, anger seeping through all of its words as it complied. "Procuring information from them has been," there was a pause. "Difficult."

"Why?" it echoed through the office.

"The ones that agreed to my offer never lived to reach the meeting," the deeper voice explained. "Someone is silencing them and doing so very publicly."

"The batarians?" the robotic voice inquired.

"Disapperead into Hegemony Space."

"Is there anything you can give me?" the voice asked with a sigh of frustration, displaying any sort of human reaction. "Anyone linked to the attack that isn't dead or gone?"

"Lisva M'Valis, Illium," it came back after a long pause.

"Understood. Corvus out," the voice returned to a neutral tone before the audio file came to a sudden end.

"Who's the new guy?" he asked as his eyes focused on the replay button, the heavily distorted speech pattern of 'Corvus' still in his mind. Until the very last moments of the argument, Tao hadn't been sure if it was a person or a VI they were listening to.

"We don't know, the message was heavily encrypted," Harper shrugged. "It might be a throw-away identity of an already known agent or it might be a previously unknown actor."

"If it's so encrypted, how did we get it?" Tao muttered as he put the tablet back on his desk.

"Lightbringer said that the jammers of the slavers temporarily disabled whatever measures the IFS uses to disguise its transmissions on and off Mindoir but considering the conversation," the Cerberus director began only for Tao Rei to form his own answer.

"Corvus wanted us to hear it."

"Yes," the blue-eyed man nodded.

"Makes for a nice excuse though, 'I didn't mean to compromise your encryption, it just kind of happened'," Tao mocked before adopting a more serious tone. "Guess we're sending someone to Illium then?"

"It's the only other angle we got," Harper nodded."I already got the green light from the chancellor for you.

"Good."

Picking up the tablet, he began scouring through the names of currently unassigned Section 13 agents, letting out a frustrated growl as the two first and most compatible names on the list appeared. Section 13 was a small organisation, most of their specialists in fact being in deep cover across the fringe, and as such the number of available agents was even smaller than one would suspect. And in spite of these odds, the two agents who happened to be both experienced with each other and unassigned at the moment happened to be the two agents he'd least like to set foot on Illium ever again.

"What is it?" his former partner asked as Tao simply stared at the tablet. "If you're at capacity, Cerberus has capable agents as well."

"That's not it, Jack."

"Then what?" the man asked with confusion as he walked towards the desk, Rei simply sliding the tablet towards him, once he read it, he'd understand. Harper picked the small computer up before lifting it to eye level, taking a moment to read the two names the director had highlighted, the moment he spotted the notification attached to them marked by a long sigh.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

* * *

 **8\. March 2401 AD** **, Illium** **, Nos Astra**

"Five days of detention is nothing to worry about, mate," the sandy-haired man said as he moved the seemingly normal black shades over his eyes, the humidity of Nos Astra's summer having surprisingly little effect on him, not a single pearl of sweat visible on his face. "Before HSAIS took me under its wing I got a summer's worth of that shit for 'dangerous misuse of a golf cart'," the specialist airquoted in a mocking tone, already betraying his real feelings about the punishment, "Which, in my opinion, was of course beyond disproportionately. I merely took one joyride through the hallway during recess, it wasn't my fault that the bloody prom cake got in the way," he reasoned with a chuckle as he leaned back in the chair, now lying on his back with his hands crossed behind his head. "If anyone is to blame, it's the obnoxious senior chick who insisted on filling it with strawberry cream. Cleaning that stuff off the lockers isn't half as fun as eating it, let me tell you that, mate."

"And this is why I try to keep you as far away from my daughter as I possibly can. You're a horrible influence and an even worse role model, you know that, right?" Alec said as he threw a quick glance towards his relaxed partner, once more wondering just what had driven him to the decision of wearing a rainbow shirt to an undercover operation. They sat on one of the countless balconies of this particular arcology, their cover of being simple tourists looking for a good time allowing them to enjoy the finer sides of Illium for once, which they had no problem with actually doing. Taking a sip from the asari cocktail, its flavour almost disgustingly sweet, the dark-haired man looked at their target once more, finding her in the same spot she had been a minute ago. The asari was still chatting with her turian customer in her office on the plaza below, blissfully unaware that the special curtains she had installed failed to shield her from Section 13's more advanced gadgets. Under other circumstances, they would've come crashing through the door and grabbed her but considering the last time they had been on Illium, a more subtle approach had been ordered. They couldn't afford another police chase.

"You still made me an uncle," Redford countered as he pointed his index finger at Alec, still looking into the sky and allowing the sun to dance on his already tanned skin.

"Wasn't my choice. I don't have any siblings and Hannah, for some to me incomprehensible reason, actually likes you," the specialist shrugged before setting down the drink, taking care to place it in the shadow he was casting in an attempt to keep it cold.

"Because I'm charming?" his partner asked before sitting back up, offering his best holiday card smile to reinforce his reply all the while counting with his fingers. "Witty, polite, good looking and ridiculously humble?"

"Keep telling that to yourself buddy," Alec snorted.

"What did she do?" Redford asked once their banter had finished. "Was it worth the five days?"

"Got in a fight with a bully," he explained as he kept observing their target, the small HUD in his shades outlining the two figures inside the office. "Tenth grader pushed around some kid and when she tried to get between them, it just kind of happened. The school isn't happy about it of course but I think the fact that she tried to help someone lessend the punishment."

"Did she win?" Redford asked as Alec simply shook his head in disbelief. The priorities of the man had always been rather odd, a flaw not even his marriage to a seemingly far more serious person had managed to fix.

"That's not what this is about ,Lal Qila. She shouldn't get in fights in the first place," Alec Shepard replied before a chuckle escaped his mouth, a prideful tone accompanying his next sentence. "But yes, she won."

"Worth it then," the blonde man nodded as he rose from his chair, ending the short sunbathe he had enjoyed while turning his head towards the building, both of them realising that the turian customer had just left. "Let's book a trip."

"After you," the specialist nodded before the two of them walked towards the flight of stairs on their right, going just fast enough to get to her in time without drawing unwanted attention. Their target was an asari travel agent by the name of Lisva M'Valis, who was made out to be the person on Illium you went to if you wanted to leave the planet without anyone noticing, a feat that their research indicated to be achieved through expensive bribes, a fleet of private transports, some stolen salarian tech and a large network of information brokers. Just what role she had played in the events of Mindoir remained to be seen. For now, she was the only source of information that they knew off. In spite of the source of their intel, that alone made their visit worth it.

Alec left the last step behind as he followed Redford across the plaza, taking note of the unwanted attention the two asari police officers were giving to his companion, hoping that it had been Redford's horrible taste in that had caught their eye and not the hidden SIS-8 in the waistband of his beige shorts. Bringing a sidearm capable of punching through most modern bodyarmor to question a civilian travel agent might seem excessive to most, especially because they had been ordered to keep a low profile, but they still had to consider that Lisva M'Valis, like every asari, was a biotic. If she wanted to, she could be very dangerous to the two of them. Asari that honed their skills were among the most dangerous individuals one could face on the battlefield, a mixture of natural talent and experience making them very deadly opponents. While Alec was confident that two Section 13 agents could overpower her, he hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Besides the obvious threat of biotics, there was also the fact that they were not really sure just what they would be walking into either. Someone like M'Valis probably had taken precautions.

Raising his shades above his eyes just as they came to a halt in front of the travel agency, Redford rang the doorbell of the small office, its white metal door sliding open to reveal a much more colourful reception, the opened door of the room right behind it revealing their target. She wasn't paying much attention to either of them and the absence of a receptionist was all the reason they needed to let themselves in. Sharing a nod, Alec looked behind them to check for any unwanted witnesses, tapping the other specialist's shoulder when he found none. The two walked past the reception and into the room, the curtains that were supposed to keep both the sun and unwanted observers out laying a blue filter of the room as a fraction of Illium's sunlight found its way through them.

"Excuse me, Lisva M'Valis?" he spoke up as the blonde man knocked on the door.

"Please make an appointment with my secretary, I am very busy at the moment," a friendly voice replied. "You can wait outside until she comes back from her break."

"We just need a few minutes of your time Ms. M'Valis," Redford offered as he removed his sunglasses, hanging them into the collar of his rainbow shirt before walking forward and leaving Alec slightly behind him. "Really just one quick question if you don't mind. We won't bother you longer than necessary."

"I am very busy at the moment," the asari returned, not taking her eyes off the screen in front of her, "but very well, one question. Make it quick."

"Fantastic," the specialist clapped his hands as he threw a look towards Alec, causing him to remain exactly where he was. Alec was well are of the unobstructed line of fire his partner was creating for him as each of his steps took him a little further to the right. "Now would you like to explain just how your little business is connected with the batarian slaver raid on Mindoir?"

The change in her demeanor was noticeable the instant Redford had finished his question. Turning her head towards Redford, purple energy danced over the skin of her hand for just long enough to be visible, withdrawing as she overthought her initial choice of action upon spotting the other human standing in the door. The short moment already told Alec everything he needed to know. This was the reaction of a someone backed into a corner, someone definitely involved in what she was being accused of.

"I'm sorry?" she asked with faked innocence, trying to put up her best smile, "I'm afraid I don't understand? I'm just a travel agen-"

"Drop the act," Redford shut her lie down as he picked up on her behaviour. Then he decided to gamble. "We already know you're involved. In the interest of time, just tell us why."

It was a risky move. A single question they couldn't answer or the chance of her actually being innocent would demolish their credibility from this point on. On the other hand, it was one of the few moves they could've made. Lisva'MValis was the only real lead they had. While the director had made it clear that there was a way to prove that the Batarian Hegemony had orchestrated the attack, he had also made it clear that said way was in no way one they could use without causing severe, possibly irreparable damage to the galactic community.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the asari dismissed them, only dropping her faked empathy.

"But I think you do," Redford shrugged as the slightest nod of the other man caused Alec to shut the door behind him. "The Shadow Broker put your name out for anyone looking into Mindoir. Why would he do that if you don't know what we're talking about?"

The asari was about to open her mouth again when Redford raised his finger to silence her.

"And before you answer, I think you should know that the people our friendly, shady information broker has been putting into connection with Mindoir have developed the unpleasant habit of dying," the specialist shrugged. "So the way I see it, you either talk to us and get the chance to drop of the face of the planet or whoever it is that's hunting down the chatterboxes will come after you next."

Contraty to Redford's threat, they had a pretty decent idea of who was crossing off anyone willing to talk. While none of the mercenaries who had agreed to meeting the Shadow Broker had died in similar ways, some being burned alive, others being beaten to death with shock batons or run over with skycars, a lucky few simply being shot, all the victims had offered little to no resistance to their killers, a strange occassion considering that all of them had been battle hardened hired guns. For this reason, Section 13 had concluded that the most likely explanation for this was that their killers had been on a whole other level than them. Looking at the circumstances, a civilian investigation would have concluded that the mercenaries had known whoever had killed them, dropping their guard upon their arrival and making them easy pray but these weren't civilians. Any Terminus merc that dropped his guard just because they knew the person in front of them didn't live long enough to build the reputation some of them had before their death.

Krogan exiles, asari pirates, a group of freelancing vorcha, all of them had been incredibly dangerous, tearing through Mindoir's Colonial Watch alongside their peers before escaping the navy in the nick of time. None of them had managed to put up a fight, let alone survive their encounter with their hunter. Considering who they had been working for, there was only one likely answer as to who had been sent after them.

The Special Intervention Unit.

Alec, like most people outside the Hegemony's high command or the unit itself, knew next to nothing about them besides their name. The only thing the HSAIS, probably by bagging either the Turian Naval Intelligence and Blackwatch for answers, had managed to learn about them was that the one field encounter between the SIU and the Blackwatch, which had taken place during the closing hours of the Krogan Rebellions, had completely annihilated an experimental cruiser and the krogan battalion on it, before ending with the death of all operatives involved on both sides. The event that had been kept a closely guarded secret for centuries.

"Your choice."

The asari looked at Redford, to her terminal and back to the specialist for several times until she finally frowned.

"A few weeks ago one of the commanders of the raid approached me. He needed to book a trip to his final destination without anyone being able to track him."

"His name?" Alec injected.

"He didn't give me his real name," the asari admitted, "at least I don't think so," she looked at her screen. "Bavsha."

"How come you think it's not his real name?" Redford asked. The asari muttered something under her breath that vaguely sounded like 'uncultured thug' before explaining.

"Bavsha are mythical creatures mentioned in the Pillars of Strength," she began and, upon seeing his still confused expression, sighed. "It's one of the most significant religious scriptures of their people. A Bavsha is a wraith believed to awaken to right wrongs and enact revenge on those that wronged the righteous."

"Where did he go?"

"Thessia," the asari finally read off her screen as both specialisists hid their surprise.

"Come again?"

"He went to Thessia," the blue alien repeated. "Bavsha booked a trip to the Republic of Serrice."

"Do you know why?" the sandy-haired Section 13 agent asked as he raised an eyebrow. It seemed strange for a batarian slaver to travel to any Council territory that wasn't within the Batarian Hegemony, even under a codename.

"I simply plan the journey to their destination, I don't ask what they're going to do once they are there. I'm a travel agent, not a detective," the asari replied in disbelief. "I gave you what you want, what now?"

"You better hope that you told us the truth," his blonde companion said before putting on his shades ones more. "Have a nice afternoon, Miss M'Valis," he offered as he walked out of the door in front of Alec.

"Wait a minute," Lisva called after them as she stormed towards the exit of her office. "What about my protection, who are you, how am I going to know that you'll uphold your part of the deal?" the asari asked as the specialist that had remained silent for most of the meeting came to a halt, turning around to face her questions.

"It doesn't matter who we are," the dark-haired man said as he leaned against the frame of the door, tipping his shades down just far enough to reveal the upper parts of his grey eyes to establish eyecontact for the next sentences. "But we will be watching you. For your sake, hope that you never see us again."

With that he left her, following Redford out of the office, past a very confused secretary and to the space port, informing HSAIS and Section 13 of their success, their deal and its implications.

Thessia was bad news.

* * *

 **2143 CE, Citadel, Embassy Area**

"If he went to Serrice, both of us know exactly who he visited," the new human ambassador said as he smacked his fist into his palm, the asari ambassador he was standing in front of seemingly unimpressed by the action. "Allow our agents to question her."

"No," the asari shook her head. "Even if I were to ignore both the fact that the republic which wardens over the matriarch has strictly forbidden any humans from stepping into their territory and the reality of you not knowing if this batarian even visited Matriarch Tevos, there's still the issue of you not knowing who you're looking for. Even if we're just talking about Serrice, the area is still far too big to track him down."

Saren understood why the human ambassador, Donnel Udina,was asking for formal permission to deploy human field agents on Thessia. If a commander of a force that attacked a turian had visited the asari homeworld only a few weeks before the attack, he would've demanded answers as well, especially if that visit was the only real lead he had. But right about now, the asari were proving uncooperative, as expected. While the general opinion of humans under Councilor Benezia, who was still only a 'temporary replacement' as far as most republics were concerned, had improved, a lot of the more powerful city states on Thessia, especially those with close ties to Tevos and her political allies, still had little good to say about the HSA.

"A batarian would've stood out like a sore thumb, even on all of Thessia," the human countered, his odd choice of phrasing somewhat familiar to Saren thanks to his friendship with David Anderson, the first and for the moment only active human Spectre.

"Ambassador Udina, I can't give you what you want."

"And even if you could, Ambassador Galiv, you wouldn't," Udina's eyes narrowed. Unlike the last human ambassador, he was far more direct about his opinions of people.

"I beg your pardon?"

Saren let out a long sigh before deciding to do what the salarian councilor had ordered him to do in a situation such as this, intervere. The batarians and the humans were already at each others throat, their diplomats having long since moved past the accepted narrative of slaver raids. The last thing they needed were the asari joining in on the brawl. Unbeknownst to the other people in the room, there was a far bigger problem looming just out of their sight, a problem neither he, his brother or their allies had come any closer to understanding.

"Ambassadors," he did his best not to slip into the commanding tone his time in the turian military had given him. Both of them stopped their increasingly growing argument as they turned towards the turian in the corner of the room "Please."

"What is it, Agent Arterius?" the asari was the first to speak up.

"The way I see it there's a simple solution to your problem," the turian began. "You can't let a human field agent anywhere near Tevos' home because the laws of her warden republic forbid humans from entering their territory, most likely for the matriarch's own safety. But bringing her here is not an option either, she is still under lifelong house arrest. However actually questioning her is not the problem, correct?"

"Yes," the asari nodded.

"And you Ambassador Udina, the HSA is requesting permission to move human field agents into the region to ensure that they are able to gather accurate intelligence, correct?"

"Yes," the other diplomat folded his arms.

"Send Agent Anderson then."

"He's human," the asari began. "The warden republic's code of law forbids humans from setting foot into its territory."

"He's a Spectre, he's above the law," Saren corrected her. "I will accompany him to Serrice, giving them a guarantee that no harm will come to the matriarch while she is being questioned," he turned away from her, looking at the human instead. "But I will also give the HSA the ability to follow their lead."

"Agent Arterius, I have to protest." Ambassador Galiv got up from her chair. "This actio-"

"Is completely within the limits of both my and Agent Anderson's power. Councilor Valern has asked me to ensure that you come to a compromise on this matter. Since you've proven to be incapable of achieving that on your own, I compromised for you," he interrupted her before throwing a nod towards Udina. Even if some of them didn't like to be reminded off it, the Asari Republics were as much obliged to conform to the Citadel Council's overarching laws as the rest of its associates and members. "I will notify you once I land on Thessia. Have a pleasent day, ambassadors."

"And I will notify you once I've contacted your superiors," the asari threatened as Saren walked out of her office, his omni-tool opening up a messaging channel on his way through the embassy area. As he passed by diplomats, politicians and C-SEC officials, a disturbing amount of people recognizing him but mercifully none offering more than a short greeting or a smile, he typed his message to Anderson. While Udina would most likely inform him as well, he knew for a fact that the N7 turned Spectre would react far quicker to him than to the ambassador. Saren didn't know why the two men disliked each other, he just knew that every time they worked with each other, it was through clenched teeth. Saren came to a halt in front of a skycar before plotting a course to the civilian docking bay. His interference had already pushed the term of deescalation, there was no need to further antagonize all of Thessia by showing up to their doorstep with either a turian, or arguably even worse, a human warship right behind them.

He sighed again. They didn't need any of this. They couldn't afford to be divided, not right now and not ever again.

Ever since his encounter with the no deceased human doctor and batarian entrepreneur, the later of which had found something arguably more significant than the artifacts, Saren had been doing his own research on the sidelines. While his brother, TNI, STG and Section 13 had been looking for answers in unexpected places, the latest being a university on Thessia, he had been backtracking Had'dah and Qian's steps on his own. While Desolas had come to believe that whatever the batarian had discovered had long since been taken by the geth, he himself found that to be a very unlikely answer. For all the fears, rumors and enigmas surrounding the synthetic creations, no one had seen them outside their own space for almost three centuries. Even if Had'dah had been searching dangerously close to the Perseus Veil, whatever he had located hadn't actually been inside geth space.

The turian Spectre also doubted that Had'dah's company would've been capable of making something that big disappear without a trace, let alone prevent everyone from talking about their involvement following the company's dissolution. And even if they had managed to do both of these things, the investigation that had torn the company apart following the batarian's death had found not a single mention of the survey report or anything remotely related to it. Edan Had'dah had kept his discovery a secret from most people, making it impossible for Had'dah Enterprises to remove the object. For a very long list of reasons, that worried Saren far more than he let on. Desolas' allies and he himself, while extending their reach, hadn't gotten a single step closer to actually understanding the artifacts, the Leviathan or their presumed creator, the Harbinger. If you didn't understand something, what were your chances of fighting or let alone defeating it?

In the past year Saren had looked over everything they had found in the last thirteen years, analysing every artifact encounter, every conversation and every little fragment of the picture they had managed to piece together. His conclusion hadn't been a good one. With their single biggest piece of evidence, the Leviathan of Dis, stored in a top secret batarian research facility, scientists tearing it apart to create cranial implants for the Hegemony's slaver bands, they needed to find what Had'dah had found. Unless something changed, unless either his brother's allies or he himself discovered something akin to the Leviathan, something that could be used to prepare the galaxy for an event that may happen at any given time, there wouldn't be anyone left for him to guide through the darkness the Harbinger was hiding in.

As the skycar came to a halt his omni-tool activated itself, ending his small episode of contemplation with an orange glow and a buzzing vibration. He threw open the skycar's passenger door after making sure he wouldn't hit anyone with it and got out, his armored feet now standing in the civilian docking bay solely dedicated to flights to Thessia. When the skycar took of next to him, he lifted his left arm in front of him, reading Anderson's reply.

'I'll be there in five minutes, save me a seat.'

* * *

 **17\. March 2401 AD** **,Thessia** **, Serrice**

David Anderson set foot out of the space port and was almost immediately awed by what he saw. The extranet hadn't done it justice. Impossibly large silver towers, bridges connecting their polished exteriors with each other, climbed into the sky over his head and countless of skycars flew around them in neatly organized patters. Hundreds of mostly purple asari walked in front of him but there was not a single piece of trash visible on the plaza, not a single blade of grass seemed out of place on the large lawn in its center and in spite of how busy everything seemed, the air was pleasantly quiet. No screaming, no running, no engine sounds, just a sea of almost musical voices, bird calls and quiet footfalls. It was a farcry from his childhood in the megacity of London. There was not a sign of overpopulation, there were no sirens betraying the constant crimes in process around them and not a single person seemed to be in a rush.

It seemed so peaceful, so perfect.

Too perfect.

As Saren appeared next to them, the military escort meant for their 'protection' circling around them, he spotted the first crack in the city's seemingly perfect image. Asari stopped to look at him, their faces either surprised, angry or confused. Humans weren't welcome in the Republic of Serrice and its surrounding territories, only his status as a Spectre having allowed him to even board the flight that had brought them here. It was almost strange to see the galaxy's most notorious xenophiles behave this xenophobic. Under other circumstances, he would've laughed at the irony.

"Our transport is coming up," one of the asari said as Anderson spotted the sleek, equally silver craft come down from the skies, its appearance almost too artistic to be of military origin. "You will step inside, you will not delay the take-off process, you will not cause any incidents aboard and you will do exactly as you're instructed."

"You are in no position to tell either of us what to do, Captain D'Fali," a flanging voice returned over the sound of the engines as Saren turned towards the officer, his tone neutral but authoritarian none the less . "You're here merely as a courtesy of the Citadel Council, not because you're needed. Don't presume that you're in a position to give us orders."

The turian was right and the lack of complaint from their escort confirmed that they knew it as well. Anderson took a few more steps forward and caught the hateful glance one of the soldiers securing the perimeter threw at them. As their eyes met, the N7 simply shrugged, not offering her the reaction she was looking for. Both he and Saren knew that they were far from welcome here and both had expected this kind of reaction. Neither had seen a point in giving the asari any reason to find their fears confirmed. Anderson had nothing to gain from antagonizing the local military and Saren, having served as a pariah in the Cabal Corps, was too used to negative attention to let it get the better of him. The most satisfaction they'd get out of this trip would be to fulfill their missions. Besides, neither of the two had to prove anything to the members of Serrice's defense force. Not only were the two of them Spectres, already setting them apart from the soldiers that made up their escort, but due to the Asari Republics' defense policies, they were the only ones of the group that had actually ever fought anyone outside of a simulator.

As the silver shuttle touched down, the two Spectres climbed inside and held onto the slings hanging from the ceiling of the crew compartment, their escort following shortly after them. As the doors were closed and the asari strapped into the harnesses of the craft, Anderson spent exactly the first three seconds of the flight halfway expecting to be thrown through the craft by its unexpected speed or weak inertial dampeners but as he noticed that they were already traveling through the air at a rapid pace, he was surprised by how graceful the flight aboard an asari shuttle was when compared to a Kodiak. The craft wasn't shaking as it accelerated through the traffic, it didn't produce sounds that made one question if it would fall apart when meeting air resistance upon breaking and most importantly, one didn't even feel that they were moving. It was nothing like riding a Combat Cockroach or a turian shuttle into battle. Hell, not even the one trip he had made aboard a salarian military craft came anywhere close to comparing with it.

The asari's mastery and understanding of the mass effect really was unrivaled, he realised that now.

After a short ride over an ocean almost impossibly blue, he could see a large, white estate appear in the distance. It rested on a small island and a large, colourful garden surrounded its immediate vicinity, only the several silver shuttles standing on a free patch of grass at the edge of a cliff disrupting its idyllic appearance. Their transport swiftly covered the remaining distance and a quick look out of the window confirmed what Anderson was in fact not feeling, they were touching down. Soon enough the doors of the silver craft were opened form the outside as several asari clad in black combat uniforms undid their seal from the outside. Realising that their escort wasn't going to accompany them any further, the two Spectres stepped outside.

"Agent Arterius, Agent Anderson?" one of the asari commandos asked as she looked at her omni-tool, most likely checking in with her superiors. "I'd ask you to hand over your weapons but I know that won't happen so if you'd please just follow me."

Sharing another quick look, the turian and the human began their journey to the estate, which only seemed bigger now that they were actually on the ground. Parts of its facade were slightly, and probably deliberately, overgrown by a plant which roughly resembled the lianas native to Earth's jungles and as far as he could tell, the craftsmanship behind the building was simply flawless. While it looked old, there was not a single crack in its walls, not a single discoloration in its paint and not a single speck of dirt on any of its large windows. However just like the Serrice, it was simply too perfect. Hidden under the plants he could make out the shape of heavy kinetic barrier generators and a more detailed observation of the gargoyle-like structures lining the roof made it obvious that they at the very least hid security cameras if not entire automated defense turrets. But most importantly, Anderson knew the ugly truth that hid behind the estate's stunning walls, the truth that asari society was far more governourted by wealth and social standing than they were comfortable with admitting. Anyone not as influential as Tevos would've been sent to a high security prison ship floating around space, condemned to live spartan until the end of either their sentence or their life.

Even before becoming a councilor, the asari had been one of the most powerful individuals of her race and it showed, her sentence had been house arrest and her 'jail' was more luxurious than anything just about anyone in the galaxy could ever hope to affort. As they walked through the garden, dozens if not hundreds of different kinds of flowers causing a sweet scent to fill the air around them, the large wooden doors at the center of the estate opened in front of them and Anderson could already see the large hallway they were headed for up ahead. Passing through the entry , he noticed the large paintings, antiques and portraits lining the two stairways leading to the level above them but before he could wonder what he'd find up there, they reached another door, this one made of clear glass.

"She's waiting for you," the asari behind him spoke as his hand touched its surface. That was all he needed to hear. With a single push, the door opened and the warm sun of Thessia once more hit him in the face, a single glance to the right just revealing more flowers and displays of wealth to him. When he turned left, he found why he was found.

"You're late," the voice, as graceful as the last time he had heard it on tv, chuckled. "Please, sit."

In front of him Matriarch Tevos was resting on a porch just barely inside the shadow of a large veranda, the table in front of her stocked with beverages and foods of different colour, the bluish dye of turian drinks among them. Like most asari, she looked like she hadn't aged a day since he had last seen her and her robe looked like it was worth more than Anderson's respectable officer salary and N7 hazard pay combined would earn him in two years.

"Matriarch," he nodded, opting to be polite for now as he sat down, Saren lingering next to the door for now.

"I've heard much about the two of you," Tevos smiled. "The turian Blackwatch protégé and his trainee, the first human Spectre. What was it they called you? Hero of the Citadel?"

"Media exaggerations," the turian shrugged as he closed the door behind him, leaning against it while taking care not to damage it with his armor. "But we're not here to discuss me."

"No, you're not," the former councilor nodded. "From what I understand you're under the impression that a batarian visited me?"

"Yes," Anderson nodded. "Following Mindoir, we managed to track one of the commanders of the raid back to Thessia. A few weeks before the attack he traveled to Serrice. He went under the alias of 'Bavsha' and we've got reason to believe that the person he met with was you."

"I don't recall meeting with a batarian wraith," the asari spoke in the same voice she had used to pull countless of people on her side, its soothing effect only stained by the blood of the victims of the Mercenary Intervention and her mockery. As Anderson leaned forward in the chair, the asari took a sip from her cup of tea before neatly setting the beverage back down on the table, her expression remarkably friendly. "May I ask you a question in return?"

"Yes."

"Why would a batarian slaver meet with me?" Tevos inquired. "Are you certain that your reasons for believing this theory to be sound are based on logic and not the product of a grudge against my person and my past actions against your kind?" The provocative undertone that accompanied her question was just subtle enough to go by most people but the N7 picked up on it. While she was right that her past had been the deciding factor behind this interrogation, she had phrased it in such a way that made it seem like the factor was questionable.

"You're the only significant person of interest in Serrice that has not only a motive to act against the HSA but has a history of doing so," he argued, Saren still remaining silent in front of the door as the turian observed the garden in front of them.

"Am I?" she asked as her tone shifted from friendly to condescending. "You humans always suspect that someone is plotting behind your back. In your eyes, everyone is conspiring against you."

"Considering that that's exactly what you and Vaelan did, it's a reasonable suspicion to hold."

"I assure you, I am not the only significant person in Serrice that has a motive to act against your people," Tevos smiled. "You truly have no idea how many enemies you made when you disrupted the harmony of the three council races, do you?"

"It wasn't the HSA who disrupted the harmony of the Citadel Council," a flanging voice saved Anderson from replying. "It were two frightened politicians who feared that the Hierarchy would act the way they would, abandoning their duties to others in favour of personal gain. You feared that our ties to humanity would show my people that we don't have to carry all the weight you burden us with on our shoulders alone, failing to realise that we already knew of our disappropriate share of responsibility. You were worried that the stagnant system you build, the system that put you into the position of power you were in, would break apart around you. You were so scared of change that ,in an attempt to prevent it, you allowed it to occur even faster. It's ironic really. In the end you were the architect that brought your fears to live."

For probably the first time in centuries, the asari in front of him didn't seem to have a comeback that would put the situation in her favour. In a few moments, a turian Spectre, who Anderson didn't even believe to be very politically inclined, had managed to best her in her own field of expertise, rethoric. The asari remained silent as she looked at the cups on the desk in front of her before a small laugh escaped from her mouth.

"What a beautiful speech. You should consider a career in politics, under your lead your people may actually learn to negotiate for themselves," she chuckled as she improved her already perfect posture even more. "I won't deny that you're right. My actions did not have their intended result," she admitted as a smile crossed her lips. "But even then I can't claim that Bavsha met me."

"You've got a lot of reasons to hire a bunch of slavers to attack a human planet," Anderson pointed out.

"According to you," the asari replied. "But let me ask you another question. Why do it now? Why not five years ago? Why not ten years from now?" Going into this meeting, Anderson didn't think he'd be able to get anything remotely honest out of the Councilor but as she went on, he couldn't help but feel like she was telling the truth. "Why ask Bavsha to visit me in my own home? I still have many friends in high places, why not use them as proxies to further my own goals without raising suspicion?"

He had to admit that he couldn't answer those questions.

"I will let you in on one of the reasons my kind dominates the galaxy. Unlike the rest of you, we're able to look back on centuries of experiences and encounters. We're able to tell when someone wants us to think the one thing but does another behind our back and we're able to work against it in the long run. The salarians may claim that STG is unmatched in its field but what can you truly do in forty short years? At the moment, your kind's inexperience with the galactic community is more than painfully evident, Agent Anderson. Your upstart species may have found its way into our ranks but you have yet to even remotely understand how the world you're trying to shape in your favour works," she explained in a voice that did well to hide the utter content behind her words. "The batarians, for all their flaws and cruelty, at least understand how the galactic community around them functions. They know how to temporarily use it in their favour. They knew that the moment you learned of one of their commanders traveling to Serrice, you'd suspect my involvement, giving them more than enough time to wipe away the real traces of their own involvement. No matter what you want others to believe, no matter how many dreadnoughts you built, no matter how many worlds you claim, no matter how much you sway the turians into your favour and no matter how many people you murder, you're still primitives trying to understand a game that's been played since you discovered the wheel."

At first Anderson could come up with several things he could say to disprove her claim but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. The assassinations had silenced all but the one source that had put them on the trail the Batarian Hegemony wanted them to follow and ever since they had found out about one of the raid's commanders traveling to Thessia, they had focused on it, probably overlooking the several leads that would've given the HSA enough evidence to proof without the shadow of a doubt that the Hegemony had moved past simply supporting the raids. In their pursuit of what they believed to be the truth, they had lost any chance at finding it. It took a lot of discipline not to betray this realisation.

"I think we're done here for now," Anderson said as he got up, walking towards the door Saren had been leaning against, the turian doing an equally good job at hiding his true feelings, "but rest assured," he promised as his tone grew darker, "when you decide that your time to take action has come, there won't be another trial."

"I wish you good fortune in your investigation, Agent Anderson," Tevos called after him as he reached for the door, "and I truly hope you find what you and your brother have been looking for, Agent Arterius. Although I fail to see why the dear general favours searching the lecture halls of thessian universities over the Perseus Veil, I am certain that he has his reasons."

In the several years they had worked together, he had never seen his firend like this. Surprised? Yes. Caught off guard? Yes. Shocked? Never. His features were locked into a grim expression as his mandibles pressed themselves against his closed jaw, an previously unseen anger flashing behind his eyes for a few short seconds before his entire body seemed to tense up. He shut the door behind and left without a comment.

The walk back to the shuttle was a silent one, he knew Saren would tell him what had just happened when the time was right and right about now, he didn't feel like talking either.

* * *

 **7\. April 2401 AD, Unknown Location**

"Did you know?" the voice demanded through the distortion software, its anger hidden behind a neutral tone.

"No," a deeper one replied, its unique accent having long since become familiar. "But the agent who delivered this false information has been lectured of his short comings. He won't disappoint me again."

"Good," a pause occupied the room as the voice looked for the rest of its reply, unsure if the other was telling the truth. "Flawed intelligence like this could have far worse consequences in the future. This time we were lucky, that might not be the case should this happen again."

"Threats will get you nowhere," the deeper voice argued as it read through the meaning of the statement. "But its not in either of our interests to repeat this failure."

"No, it isn't," the first voice replied as the software twisted its sound into a completely different one. "I will contact you when I require your assistance again. Corvus out."

The news that their lead had been wrong had come to a surprise but at least it had cast the HSA into a bad light. Their insistence to question Tevos only to realise that she was not involved had been worth the failure of their original plan, intending to use their agents to take care of a shared threat. After all, risking one of the few remaining operatives capable of taking on such an operation was not feasible, not at a time as crucial as this. The attack on Mindoir, while an atrocity they'd eventually avenge, had been the event they had been waiting for ever since Kamarov had snapped. For years they had been laying low to keep public backlash following the failed attack on Arcturus to a minimum, for years they had been preparing their remaining assets for this moment. With Kamarov out of the picture and the new generation of HSA soldiers bleeding at the hands of aliens and not them, the time for reconstructing their image was finally here. But unlike the Butcher of Elysium, she knew better than to rush their cause. The people of the Fringe and humanity as a whole needed them to take their time. If anything, time was working in their favour. Every slaver raid, every alien plot, it all played into their hands, slowly but steadily improving their position. A knock on the door of the office caused her to stand up, the press of a button opening it after a slight delay.

"Ma'am, we've arrived at our destination. "

"Alright," she replied as she got up from the chair. "Any unknown signatures in the area?"

"No, we haven't been followed and neither have any of the other ships. Your plan worked."

"My plan didn't executed itself. Extend my congratulations to the crew, excelent work, lieutenant," the dark haired woman said as she got up, straightening her old, dark-red uniform, the five golden letters on her collar as polished as the day she had been awarded with them. "Is everyone accounted for?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. This meeting is long overdue. Patch them through to my personal terminal."

"Yes, Admiral," the junior officer saluted before leaving her makeshift office, several dozen com links coming to live on the aged but reliable screen in front of her. She cleared her throat just as the video link established itself and began her speech.

"This is Admiral Kastanie Dreschers to all remaining commanders of the IFSDF, the time of our resurgence is upon us. But now more than ever, I need all of you to remain patient," she knew they possessed this skill. Unlike Kamarov, the people she was addressing hadn't been cut off from the IFSDF for the entirety of the war. They had been trained to lead, being promoted to their rank not simply because their superior had died but because they were qualified for leadership. "We can no longer allow the HSA to endanger our brothers and sisters in the Fringe Worlds or on any other world they may live on by letting it rule over them. In a galaxy as dangerous as our own, it is not just our duty but also our destiny to protect those which they claim yet fail to shield from the evils surrounding us."

As she had done during the darkest hours of the war, she waited a few moments for her words to touch the hearts of her comrades, to allow them to not simply listen but to understand her intention. When she was satisfied with her break, she went on.

"We are the few who lived to see this critical moment and while it is important to remember those who already gave their life to get us here, it is now far more important to look into the future, to realise all those we can save guard from suffering a similar faith by returning to our roots. All of you have a part to play in the years to come and as of right now, each and everyone of you is formally reinstated into the service of the IFSDF and the senate we pledged our loyalty to."

As she saw the transfer of the individual sets of orders completed, the admiral closed in for her gratuitous closing line.

"For the first time in two decades, for the first time for all of humanity. De liber," she called in a voice hardened by years of military command.

"Oppresso!" the rest of her sentence echoed through her room in a chorus of voices before twenty one com-links disappeared from her screen as the ships vanished from the rally point.

Now more than ever those words rang true.

* * *

 _Codex: Militaries of the Asari Republics_

 _Unlike every other galactic government, the Asari Republics lack a unified, planet-based military. Instead of maintaining large, professional armies like the rest of the galaxy, every colony, republic, city state or confederation of asari forms their own defense forces, the wealth and size of each community determining their equipment standard, doctrine and training. Due to never venturing outside of their home communities, this practice eases the economical strain placed on the communities but also leads to most of their ground based forces being remarkably inexperienced, only few of them having anywhere close the combat experience of turian, human, salarian or even batarian soldiers and most never even being baptized in fire, the battle tested veterans of the Krogan Rebellions long since dead._

 _The sole exception to this are all asari naval forces which, alongside the naval-based huntress units, commonly refered to as Asari Commandos, are unified under the command of the Republican Navy, the individually most advanced military of the Citadel Council. While collectively outnumbered by the fleets of the Turian Hierarchy, asari vessels are among the most powerful ships in the known galaxy, their barriers, armors and weaponry unmatched and the Destiny Ascension standing as a testament to the Republican Navy's power and asari engineering as a whole._

 _While military analysts agree that the strength of their naval forces makes it unlikely that any enemy force will ever set foot on the asari core worlds and that their naturally biotic population would make any occupation incredibly difficult, especially turian and, before the Krogan Rebellions, krogan, strategists have time and again pointed out that the Asari Republics, for all their might, are incapable of fighting and winning a sustained war of attrition on their own. Not only are the majority of their ground forces, with the exception of the navy's light infantry, strangers to planetary invasion tactics, large scale combat, occupation and organised resistance, most of them also lack the heavier weaponry employed by turian, batarian or human forces, instead excelling at light skirmishing tactics against pirates, slavers and soft, undisciplined targets._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So, chapter 32. Delayed, mostly because as some of you may have realised by now thanks to me remastering the first TEN chapters of Semper Vigilo. (If you didn't realise that, this is your cue to go back and read them), which is something I've been meaning to do for a long time. Also I've been busier than expected due to applying to both the federal and state police of germany, a process that took up mroe of my time that I though it would.**

 **Now to the chapter itself. I know, no action and a lot of talking but I think given that last chapter was basically a giant action sequence, this is a nice change.**

 **Also Tevos makes a return and I give the lot of a oneline cliffhanger without even having the descency of ending the chapter there. For her, I wanted her to be threatening in her own unique way. Sure, she's a asari matriarch and probably, like most of them, a powerful biotic. But that's not what made her dangerous during the beginning of Semper Vigilo and its not what put Anderson at a disadvantage here either. At her core, she's still a political chess player, she doesn't fight you with actions, she fights you with words. And I hoped I managed to portray that in an accurate fashion.**

 **Also, I finally managed to get back to one of the long-term conflicts of Semper Vigilo, a conflict that kind of lay dormant until last chapter. I know some of you are probably wondering where the third Codex Entry of the Fringe Wars is (which is mostly written btw). Rest assured, it's not that far away anymore. The Fringe Wars are still very much the defining difference between the Human Systems Alliance and the Canon Systems Alliance.**

 **For the record, we're at 263 reviews, 462 favorites and 558 follows.**

 **Review and let me know what you think.**

 **See you around next time.**


	33. Fermi Paradox

**Chapter 33. Fermi Paradox**

* * *

 **Summer of 2144 CE** **, Thessia** **, Library of the T'Lav University**

As the last other occupant decided to leave the room, the librarian threw her a rather annoyed look when she looked at her for a short moment. She understood the action, the woman wanted to go home and her presence was keeping her from doing so. While the librarian could've asked a student to leave, she herself hadn't been a student of this university for nearly twenty years. Much to the frustration of the other asari, Doctor Liara T'Soni held a teaching position and as such was allowed to remain inside the library as long as she deemed necessary to use its resources for preparing her next lecture.

Scrolling through the terminal in hopes of finding what she was looking for, she was well aware that the librarian would be far more than just annoyed should she find out that Liara wasn't actually preparing anything for her class. Instead of collecting study material, the young asari was using her spare time and the university's access to even the newest research papers to expand on her own theory in regards to the protheans, the precursor race that had vanished roughly fifty thousand years ago, leaving behind the mass relay network and the Citadel for the current inhabitants of the galaxy.

Her obsession with the enigmatic people had manifested itself after the first time her now mostly estranged mother had read her an excerpt from a history book in a desperate attempt to get her to sleep, a choice that had set of a spiral of events starting from digging through her mother's garden in hopes of finding an undiscovered prothean artifact, devouring countless of books and articles on the topic and finally let to her studying archeology and alien cultures in this very university, becoming one of the youngest asari to ever graduate from T'Lav University when her doctorate thesis had sparked controversy among the school's leadership.

A controversy that had left an impact on her career. For all her certified knowledge, most of her peers rarely took her serious not only because of her young age, she was barely an adult by the standards of her people, but also because of the 'ridiculous and unprovable' theory that she had 'made up' because she' hadn't been capable of producing an actual thesis to graduate with'. But no matter how much they despised her, how ridiculous they found her thesis, they couldn't argue with the quality of her work. While asari of her age had nothing better to do than look for the next thrill, the next party, or in a few cases, the next mercenary job, living each day as if it could be their last, not paying any mind to actually contributing something to society just yet, she poured every fiber of her being into her more useful passion, finding answers to the unsolved riddles of the past.

She couldn't quite explain why she was as captivated by the protheans as she was. Maybe her research was her simply taking her curiosity to its extreme, maybe a part of her arrogantly believed that only she was capable of finding these answers or maybe Liara simply preferred a dusty dig site or a silent library to the social pressure of being Benezia T'Soni's child. If growing up as the daughter of a powerful matriarch and the current asari councilor, whom her people still considered a temporary replacement after well over a decade of service, had taught her anything, it was that for all the effort the galactic community, especially the asari, put into appearing harmonic, peaceful and united, the galaxy was a far uglier place than most people were comfortable with admitting.

If she was honest with herself, it was probably a combination of all of these factors.

She was torn from her idle thoughts when her eyes informed her brain that the paper she was looking for was now available on the screen. Everyone kept telling her that her pursuit of challenging the accepted course of galactic history was pointless but she had never been good at listening. Looking at the text on the screen, a paper recently published by an elcor scientist, she read through what most would consider a boring collection of raw data with a sense of excitement. If the elcor was right, which they usually were, it would support her 'unprovable' theory even further. Over the course of several years the professor and head of Dekuuna's most prestigious school had brought together the location, condition and size of every known prothean site in the galaxy, hard, factual numbers now confirming what many already suspected. The Attican Traverse, the region which was settled by a sizeable number of both human and independent colonies and acted as a buffer between the Terminus Systems and the rest of Council Space, was home to an unproportionately high number of prothean artifacts. This reinforced the idea that the protheans, in spite of the Citadel's location, had either originated on a world within the Traverse or at least settled it far more densely than the rest of the galaxy for an as of yet undiscovered reason.

But these numbers alone weren't what supported her theory of the protheans' disappearance being the result of another, violent party. No, it was the second factor that the elcor had considered which she could expand on. Prothean artifacts were among the most important discoveries one could make, their importance going as far as the entire galaxy, even the Batarian Hegemony, agreeing that any and all discoveries even suspected to be of prothean origin had to be reported and shared with the rest of the galaxy. While major sites like the megapolis of Feros were only discovered every few centuries, minor artifacts or ruins were actually rather common, especially in the Attican Traverse. However for all their frequency, most if not all pieces of prothean technology were damaged beyond repair. The last working piece of prothean technology that had been 'discovered' in the last century had been the research base within the Sol System, continuing one of the patterns she had pointed out in her thesis, the pattern of working prothean artifacts being centered around the home systems of the currently known space faring races and the frequency of damaged artifacts increasing the closer one got to the center of the Traverse. Looking at the elcor's paper, she found that part of her thesis confirmed. The condition of prothean artifacts grew worse the closer one got to the Attican Traverse, the only exception to this rule being the functional site in the Sol System.

She could use this.

As she had pointed out by looking at the examples of working prothean technology, most importantly the mass relays, the Citadel and the various installations presumably used to observe their ancestors, everything the protheans had built further away from the Attican Traverse seemed to be nearly unaffected by the fifty thousand years that had passed between their disappearance and the re-emergence of space faring civilizations. Yet for some reason, everything they had built inside the Traverse, with the exception of the mass relays, was in terrible condition. While scavengers and corporations had done a lot of unforgivable damage to several sites, they couldn't possibly have done this much and as the other examples proved, age shouldn't have ravaged the artifacts like this either.

Someone else had done that and now she was one step closer to learning who. With these numbers backing up her theory, she might be able to find out who. Downloading the rest of the document for later, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm almost done Miss La-" she began until realising that whoever was touching her couldn't possibly be the librarian. While some unfortunate asari may lose two of their fingers during their lives, none of them had skin this hard.

"Doctor T'Soni?" a white-plated turian with damage to both one of his fringes and left mandible asked as he looked down on her, his light blue eyes matching her own.

"Yes," she replied as she realised that the turian was a very high ranking officer. For all the distance between them, a sense of worry washed over her as her mind began telling her that something had happened to her mother. Why else would a general show up on Thessia?

"I'm General Desolas Arterius and we need to talk about something," he gave his reply, only encouraging her brain to keep going.

"What happend?" she asked, a part of her already envisioning the news of a dreadnought crashing into the Presidium Tower and killing her mother or an assassination attempt leaving her severely injured.

"I read your doctorate thesis," the turian admitted and just like that her mind went from worried to surprised.

Very surprised.

"Excuse me?" she asked cautiously after the surprise had worn off.

"Your doctorate thesis. Revealing the hidden truth behind the disappearance of prothean society," the turian elaborated as he looked at the ceiling in an attempt to recall the title of her work correctly. "I found it to reveal a rather unique perspective on the fall of the protheans."

"You read it?" the surprise in her voice was evident. Hardly any scientist outside of her academic discipline even knew about her work and the ones that did usually dismissed her for going against accepted facts of history yet this turian, who didn't look like he had spent a single day of his life inside a university, hadn't just heard of it or read it, he had traveled to Thessia to meet her. That was beyond strange.

"Yes," he nodded.

"And you came to Thessia just to tell me that?" she asked, trying her best not to sound rude. Truthfully it was refreshing to hear someone other than renowned conspiracy theorists congratulate her on her work. But even in face of this change, she knew that there was more to this encounter than his opinion of her thesis. A turian soldier, a general nonetheless, didn't travel all the way to Thessia just to tell her how much he liked her work. There was more to this. Maybe he was a secret conspiracy theorist?

"After reading it, my associates and I both agreed that your unique perspective on the subject could be very useful for us. We've been looking for someone able to see things the way you can."

"Your associates?" she picked the most important detail out of the reply.

"I'm afraid I can't specify. At least not here," the general replied as he threw a look towards the now curious librarian. A turian in an asari university as prestigious as this one was already a rare sight in itself but the golden general markings on a uniform made it a once in a lifetime event. "The only thing I can tell you right now is that if you come with me, you may find answers to some of the uncomfortable questions you raised with your thesis. While you won't be able to share your findings, something tells me that proving others wrong is not as important to you as learning the truth."

"You'd be right to assume that," Liara answered as she decided to listen to her gut. She grabbed her belongings from the desk and got up form the chair she had been occupying for the last few hours. "Shall we?" she asked, giving the turian his reply.

"Yes, right this way, please," the turian waved with his hand after a moment of surprise. He had probably expected that she'd require more convincing to follow a complete stranger into the unknown and usually he would've been right but the prospect of finding answers had gotten the better of her. However as they left the library, Liara soon began to wonder if she had been too impulsive with her decision. A turian general going out of his way to track her down was certainly the first step to a big opportunity but it could also be the first step on a very dangerous path. Should she have asked more questions? Was she getting herself into something she didn't want to be a part of? Thoughts like these crossed her mind as she found herself leaving the university campus. It was far too late for these questions now, wasn't it? Before her self-doubts grew even louder, a voice sounding suspiciously like her mother shut them down and told her that it was in fact never too late for questions.

"You mentioned your associates before," she spoke up after several moments of self-convincing. "Can you tell me who they are now?"

"You'll meet them in due time," the turian offered no actual reply, only increasing her need to know the answer. "Until then I'm afraid you'll have to be patient."

"Why do you think my perspective could help you?" the young asari went on as they passed under the glow of a street light, its bluish glow leaving a barely visible filter on her skin.

"Doctor T'Soni," the general came to a sudden halt in the center of the mostly empty campus, his white-palted face far more affected by the street light than her own. "What if I told you that everything we believed to be a certainty may very well be based on a faulty assumption? What if things we grew up learning as facts were wrong because we weren't told an important piece of the story? What if I said that all of us have spent our lives living a lie, never bothering to look beyond our version of the truth? What would you do then?"

She paused for a moment, trying to unriddle the hidden meaning behind the general's reply. In a few sentences he had triggered her natural inclination to find answers to seemingly impossible questions and once she realised that, Liara understood what reply Desolas Arterius was hoping for.

"I'd start looking for the truth," she finally admitted as a pair of icy blue eyes looked at her in anticipation.

"There's your answer," the general reasoned as his voice took on a certain edge, the slightest trace of something that could be fear revealing itself to her ears. "I'm not going to lie to you, Doctor T'Soni. You won't like what I'm about to show you, it's terrifying and I'd understand if you were to say that you can't handle it. I won't look down on you should you change your mind right now, no one would. But if I show you this," the turian went on as the whining of a shuttle became audible in the distance, "you'll be part of something far greater than any of us. Something that may change the fate some people believe to be inevitable for the galaxy."

She considered his words for a few passing moments. Her mother, when they had still talked more than once a year, had once told her that there was nothing she couldn't change if she set her mind on it, no matter how impossible it seemed. Back then it had sounded like the motherly advice one gave a teenager in emotional turmoil but now those words came back to her. Liara didn't know what the general was talking about but something about his behaviour made her certain that he was not only sincere in his worry but genuinely scared of whatever he was talking about. Any normal person would take a very big step away from something capable of leaving this kind of impact on a man like him but Liara had never been quite normal and she had always challenged what others believed to be certain. She knew what she had to do. As the shuttle came down next ot them, the answer already lay on her tongue and when the howling of its engines quieted down, she gave her reply to the turian next to her.

"Let's find the truth, General Arterius."

* * *

 **Two Hours Earlier, Citadel, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

"Honored councilors," the batarian began as all eyes in the chamber came down on him, his yellow garments making it all the easier for him to stand out to the naked eye of the common observer and more importantly to the cameras. "I stand before you today because after nearly a year of attempted dialogue, the HSA still remains incapable of seeing this issue from our perspective. They refuse to compromise, they refuse to listen and they refuse to work towards a solution. As other means of negotiating seem to have failed, Chairman Kar'Amon requests this council to offer its assistance in enabling our proposed solution to the issue."

"And what would that solution be, Ambassador?" the asari councilor asked in return, an almost sympathetic smile appearing on the batarian's face, only his needle-like teeth ruining the non-threatening gesture.

"The Batarian Hegemony asks the Citadel Council to declare the Skyllian Verge an area of batarian interest," the ambassador explained. "We ask you to restrict colonialisation rights of the region to batarians as a means to stop the aggressive human expansion that is causing this conflict. My people have lived in the Verge for centuries, we hold a bigger claim to it than the humans and now we want our claim to be officially recognized."

"Even if we restricted the HSA from settling the Verge, the friction between your people would still be there, Ambassador," he, known to the public as Councilor Valern, offered as he tried to sound as diplomatic as possible. It not exactly an easy task to do so, considering that he had spent several years of his life training to be the option politicians took when diplomacy had failed but Cozek had prepared him more than adequately. "Several dozen human colonies are located in the Skyllian Verge, some of them either just as big or even bigger than the batarian settlements. They have been settling the Skyllian Verge for nearly as long as the Batarian Hegemony. Why is their claim smaller than yours?"

"Honored councilors, the Batarian Hegemony has been an associate of the Citadel Council for over two thousand years. Our people answered the call to arms against the rachni and the krogan. We've been a loyal all-"

Seeing an angry turian was rather unique in the fact that their society expected them to be in control of themselves even if they heard something they didn't like. As such turian anger wasn't furious shouting or the display of raw emotion, it was far more calculated than that. As a calm, collected, flanging voice began to talk, the batarian began to realise that. Real turian anger was a factual display of why the other party was in the wrong and why it made the turian angry. High ranking members of the Hierarchy were able to deliver this anger with such an authority that even seasoned politicians like the batarian ambassador lost their grip on the situation for a few moments.

"No," Sparatus, the successor of Councilor Ioventus, declared, interrupting Jath'Amon with a strict, clear but calm tone. "The Batarian Hegemony has been a great many things, ambassador, but a loyal ally? Never. You've invaded sovereign worlds, enslaved countless of people, skirmished with Citadel forces and ignored several of the most important laws that this Council enacted. Why should we help you after everything you've done? Why should we not side with those that actually respect the laws of our societies?"

At first the batarian lacked a formal reply but Valern could already see where this meeting would go when the body language of the four-eyed ambassador shifted. For a few moments, he considered intervening but upon realising that an outburst like this had only been a question of time, he decided against it. There was no point in delaying it.

"Because they're upstarts," the batarian growled. "Primitves laying claim to rightfully batarian soil, taking land others could use far more effective than them. The Skyllian Verge belongs to the Batarian Hegemony and if you can't see this, you're far more blind than I suspected. It would seem you've moved past using mere laws to discriminate against my people."

It was a well known complaint. Even if they ignored the law itself, the Batarian Hegemony had voiced its dislike for the ban of slavery in all forms in all of Council space time and again, arguing that the caste system on which their slavery was based on was an integral part of their culture and that the law therefor inherently discriminated against the batarian people as a whole. Of course no incarnation of the Citadel Council had ever even considered acknowledging that complaint and only the reluctance of the asari and salarians to go to war with yet another space faring race, their experience of the devastation following the Krogan Rebellions and the Rachni War leaving them with a species-wide trauma, had prevented the Turian Hierarchy from actively putting an end to the practice.

But besides being well known, it was also the worst possible thing Jath'Amon could've said.

"I've seen how the Batarian Hegemony uses its land, ambassador," the hint of disdain in Sparatus' voice was a product of his military career. Valern had taken care to study the lives of his colleagues and even if Sparatus had 'only' served as the commander of an engineer detachment before shifting into politics, the turian had lived through a rather jarring encounter with batarian slavery, being part of a crackdown operation on a large slaver base shortly before the end of his career, "and I fail to see why the Citadel Council should grant anything to you besides the immediate removal of your associate status and a small prison cell."

The echo of his reply climbed through the ranks of the chamber above them as the observers remained silent, waiting for the batarian's reply. Jath'Amon had miscalculated but being an influential politician the Hegemony, his pride got the better of him again. Instead of backing down, Valern saw the ambassador grow angry. It was the expected reaction. If one lived as a family member Kar'Amon, he wasn't used to backing down and he was most definitely not used to being shot down like this.

"The Batarian Hegemony demands that the Council declares the Skyllian Verge an area of batarian interest," he very nearly roared.

"And what if we don't?" a flanging voice offered back, noticably more collected. Sparatus knew that his colleagues shared his view on this matter and he let it show. "For all your boasting, it seems that the Hegemony is not able to live up to the reputation it so desperately wants."

"If you refuse to restrict the Skyllian Verge for anyone but batarian colonists, the Hegemony will close its embassy on the Citadel."

This caught Valern by surprise. He had expected shouting but he hadn't expected this. In all of galactic history, no one had ever threatened to revoke their associate status with the Citadel Council. It would make them pariahs like the quarians or the krogan, outcasts of the galactic community and, most importantly for the batarians, a rather attractive target for the turian navy. The only thing that had kept the Citadel from putting the hammer down on the practices within batarian space, besides the memories and stories of the previous galactic wars, had been the fact that neither the Asari Republics nor the Salarian Union had been all to eager to have an associate be forcefully subjected to their laws, forcing them to step in line by having the Hierarchy hold them at gunpoint. But that fact would disappear once the batarians closed their embassy, moving them one step closer to having a turian armada pour through the Harsa Relay. He had to know that. It was his job to know that.

"Ambassador, you do realise the implications of such an action, correct?" Benezia spoke up, most likely in an attempt to quiet down the rumoring that had erupted above them. "Cutting yourself off from the Council can't possibly be what you want."

"The chairman has made his will clear. If the Verge is not recognized as rightfully batarian, the Council will suffer the consequences."

Valern knew that there would be consequences to suffer but not even the batarians could be arrogant enough to believe that the Council would be the one to face them. He knew that the already big sense of self superiority present within the Hegemony had grown even larger when the batarians had taken the place of the Quarian Conclave as the most powerful associate of the Citadel Council after the Geth War had forced the quarians out of the Citadel and off their homeworld but even then they had to realise that the Hegemony couldn't come out on top off all of this.

"Ambassador, please," Benezia began again. "There has to be another solution," she reasoned as the batarian tilted his head to the right, signaling that he considered himself superior to one of the most powerful asari matriarchs who not only held far more political say than him but could very well kill him with the flick of her wrist should she feel the desire to do so. Valern had been rather surprised when his research had revealed Benezia T'Soni to be a powerful biotic, even by her people's standards. Usually asari who possessed her abilities sooner or later ended up in the highest echelons of asari military leadership and not in politics. But as his small scouring of T'Soni family history had confirmed, asari who held the name T'Soni were anything but usual. "You have to realise the severity of this threat."

"If this council won't support the batarian people in their hour of need, ignoring the sacrifices we've made for this galaxy, the chairman sees no other solution than to cut ties with the Citadel and its associates, separating us from the need to tolerate the encroaching human colonies."

The salarian suspected, or rather hoped, that this was an empty threat. His predecessor had been very clear about how dangerous he believed the Harbinger to be. The last thing they needed was the batarian navy throwing itself into the maws of the human fleets, weakening the strongest non-council member right before a far bigger threat closed in on the galaxy. But a hope alone wasn't enough. Cozek had gone out of his way to keep the peace and fix the damage the former Councilor Tevos and the late Councilor Vaelan had caused. He didn't plan on allowing all that progress to fade away thanks to the Hegemony's arrogance. While he couldn't stop them from making their threat come true if they actually meant it, he could make sure that they understood the consequences of military action.

"If you revoke your associate status to the Citadel Council and take military against the HSA, nothing will stop them from requesting salarian," he made sure to take a short moment to look at Sparatus to reinforce his next statement before folding his arms,"or turian military assistance." The two shared a nod before turning towards the asari in between them.

"The same can be said about the Asari Republics," Benezia added with a firm voice. "Or any other associate. The Citadel Council will defend all of its associates from foreign aggression, even if the aggressor is a former member of the galactic community. We will not enforce your restriction but we will allow the Hegemony to reconsider its last request."

"We refuse to accept this," the batarian snarled to everyone's surprise, a wave of shocked gasps and silent whispers following his outburst. Either his pride had once more gotten the better of him or the chairman had simply lost its mind and ordered him to take this approach. "My people have been held back for long enough by this ungrateful council and we will longer tolerate its anti-batarian agenda. In the name of Chairman Kar'Amon and the Batarian Hegemony, I demand the immediate termination of our associate status."

Without even waiting for a reply, the batarian tilted his head to the right for a final time and turned on his heel, his heavy footsteps echoing through the chambers and each thud further solidifying the weight of what had just occurred. While the quarians and krogan had seen their associate status terminated following their mistakes, never had a species voluntarily abandoned its membership. None had dared to cast themselves out of the community and even the humans, after initial reluctance, had come to appreciate the cooperation between the races. But the more Valern thought about, the more he realised that this moment had only been a question of time. In the past the batarians had only ever interacted with the Citadel Council when it had suited them, preferring the company of the Terminus Systems over that that of their fellow associates. Their society had always been inherently xenophobic and their economy almost entirely self-reliant.

This outcome had arguably been only a question of time.

As his omni-tool buzzed, he halfway expected it to be a Dalatrass, demanding a report of why the ambassador of one of the bigger, and more importantly military capable, associates had just stormed out of the chambers of the Citadel Council and let a small groan escape from his mouth. His current assignment had only solidified why the military of the Salarian Union didn't hold them in high regard and why the Inner Cabinet needed to keep STG in line. Most Dalatrasses were far too entitled for their own good. He opened the message and when he read its content, the frustration disappeared.

At least Arterius had won a small victory for their cause.

* * *

 **18\. December 2402 AD, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

Tao had known that General Arterius had been looking for allies in rather weird places but when he had learned that the turian had brought an asari archeologist into their little fellowship, he had been a little skeptical. That skepticism had vanished when he had seen the first glimpses of her work, soon using his free time to catch up on her thesis in order to prepare what he had assumed would be a timely meeting. But as the universe one more felt the need to prove him wrong, the doctor had insisted on reviewing all the evidence they had gathered over the years again on her own and only after several months of basically living in either her room or a library, she had informed the general that she was prepared to present her conclusion, in turn causing him to call a meeting of the most important members of their group. This call had been what had led to the general himself, Tao Rei, Jack Harper and the holograms of Councilor Valern, Saren Arterius and another STG agent closely working with the salarian now occupying a dimmed briefing room in a turian military base.

"That's everyone, Doctor T'Soni. Please begin when you're ready," the turian general informed her as a projector turned on in the center of the room and the asari cleared her throat just as Harper sat down next to Tao. To her credit, her past experience as a teacher actually gave her an unusual confidence in spite of just who she was addressing. It was evident that she was used to giving lectures. The doctor walked to the blue globe that illuminated the room and leaned on the desk projecting it, small freckles appearing on her face as the light engulfed her. She lingered for a few moments until she was certain that everyone was was focusing on her before beginning.

"When I first started looking through the evidence, the recordings and of course the reports of the sites your teams explored, I believed their assessment to be incomplete. Something seemed wrong, out of place. Something was missing, I was convinced that they had overlooked something critical," the asari argued. "Prothean civilzation spanned the galaxy. They constructed the mass relay network, discovered the mass effect, uplifted countless of lesser developed races into their society and forged the Citadel as the heart of their civilization, its size remaining as a testament of their technological mastery to this day," the doctor waved her hand towards the projector as a map of the Milky Way appeared, countless of red dots being highlighted in it as she pushed herself of the desk, walking around the blue projection. "The remains of their existence are everywhere and they undeniably explored a far larger portion of our galaxy than us, the sheer number of still dormant or unexplored mass relays suggesting that they may very well have inhabited countless of regions completely unknown to us."

Tao Rei looked at the map, noting the unusual concentration of red near the Fringe Worlds. He knew that the HSA had stumbled upon dozens if not hundreds of alien ruins before encountering the Citadel Council, every destroyed outpost or lost satellite lowering their hopes of ever finding another space faring civilization. He also knew that most of the artifacts they had found had left the sealed vaults they had been stored in once the bigger picture of prothean society had been revealed to humanity's leaders back in early years of human-council history. In an attempt to increase the Council's opinion of them, they had shared these artifacts only to find just about everything that hadn't been recovered on Mars to be broken. It had been a rather hard blow to the ego of their scientific community to learn that human understanding of prothean technology hadn't even been good enough to tell which pieces had been working by pure chance and which had actually remained intact after their discovery. But as he tried to count the dots, he realised just how much they had missed and how common prothean sites seemed to be in the Attican Traverse. Just how hadn't they noticed all of this?

"And because of the sheer size of their territory and their dominance of the galaxy, I found it strange that not even the most basic means of documentation we recovered made any mention of a Harbinger or the race that had created the artifacts or the Leviathan of Dis. A race that would've been able to fill the role of the unknown aggressor I proposed in my thesis couldn't possibly have gone unmentioned." He found himself agreeing with that conclusion. "So, after my initial review I was disappointed. It didn't make sense and truthfully, I believed the fault to be with either your theory or your teams. While somebody had obviously created all the things you found, I doubted that it had been the race I've been looking for during the last decade. But during my final review I noticed something, a small detail I had previously dismissed as the product of turian meticulousness caught my attention when I realised that I had seen it before," he felt the tension in the room climb as a chart he could make almost no sense of replaced the map in the center of the room.

"This is a soil sample taken from scorch marks created by an unknown form of explosive on Tunae-Prime," she said as she looked at Saren Arterius who rubbed his chest at the mention of the name before the very same chart appeared next to it. "And this is a dust sample I took of a piece of prothean mining technology in the Attican Traverse roughly seven years ago. Both contain unusually large traces of iron, tungsten and most importantly uranium. Back then I believed it to be the residue of the prothean mining operation and at first I thought it was a coincidence but then I realised that uranium does not naturally occur anywhere on Tunae-Prime," another wave of her hand brought up another chart and another planet. "And neither does it naturally occure on this world," a second wave, "or on this one," a third one, "or on this one," a fourth, larger wave followed by the sound of the doctor clapping her hands together echoed through the room, "or on any of these worlds," a galaxy map with dozens of dots that had previously marked prothean ruins appeared once more. "All samples taken near the ruins located on these planets contained the same iron, tungsten and uranium traces TNI recovered after the operation in the Hades Gamma Cluster. After a lot of research, a lot of sleepless nights and a lot of turned in favours, I learned that traces of exactly these three elements had also been found on the surface of just about every damaged major prothean structure within the Attican Traverse. Mining bases, listening posts, pyramids, the base of the city towers of Feros, all of them had at least a fine layer of dust consisting of exactly these three elements in almost the same concentration on them."

The asari looked through the room for a moment as she realised that she hadn't been breathing correctly, her explanation leaving no time for a break. As the silence grew, she decided to voice what Tao and probably everyone in the room already had on their mind. Leave it to the turians to take samples from everything, even some damn scorch marks. Liara T'Soni waved her omni-tool for a final time and the projector shut off, the lights on the ceiling turning on after a few moments of darkness. She visibly took another breath before going in for her conclusion.

"In short, the same kind of explosives that were used to clear trees on Tunae-Prime were used against the protheans fifty thousand years ago," the asari finished. "Whoever this Harbinger is, he not only fought the protheans, he wiped them out, removed the traces of their conflict and destroyed every record of himself and his people in the process."

"But like me in basic training, he forgot to dust off the edges," the turian general mused as the asari nodded her agreement. "Thank you, Doctor T'Soni. You have no idea how much you helped us by doing this. I'll arrange for your return to Thessia at once."

"I want to keep helping, General Arterius," the asari replied as six pairs of eyes, three physically present and three holographic, widened a bit in surprise. "A few months ago you asked me to find the truth and right now I barely scratched the surface. We still don't know what destroyed the Leviathan, we still don't know why the conflict began,and we still don't know why the Harbinger went to such a length to cover it up. There's so much more I can do."

Desolas Arterius threw quick look towards the assembled people in the room and five nods later, the turian general offered his hand to the asari scientist.

"Welcome aboard, Doctor T'Soni."

* * *

 **8\. August 2403 AD, Terra Nova, Grissom Academy**

He knew that Tela would be more than just irritated should she learn that he had arrived on Terra Nova without her knowledge but even with her raised security clearance as a staff member of the facility, he couldn't tell her his whereabouts, not during a mission. He simply hoped that he'd be able to informed the headmaster of his arrival in the academy without bumping into her. Once that step had been accomplished, he'd ask the commander for directions before going on his merry way to possibly change someone's life the way his own had been changed shortly before a 'small but disturbingly organized insurgency' had begun in the Fringe some twenty seven years ago. Back then he had been seventeen and if people would've asked just about anyone about his future perspectives, they wouldn't have given them a very optimistic answer and knowing himself, he either would've died in the meat grinder that had been the Siege of Horizon or ended up on the wrong track for what he would've believed to be the right reasons back then.

All that had changed in a single day, a day he'd now relive from the other side.

Walking towards the administrative wing of the academy, the students paid no mind to the HSAIS operative amongst them as they themselves poured towards their dorms. The red dagger emblem on his uniform had been removed for this rather public operation so as far as anyone looking at him was concerned, he was just a regular intelligence officer, not exactly an uncommon sight on the academy's campus these days. With the Ascension Project well on its way to replace BAaT, Grissom's student pool would soon be expanded beyond biotic students and as such several military and intelligence officials were working day and night to prepare the academy for the new highest tiers of HSA leadership had decided to integrate promising non-biotic cadets into the curriculum of the school, figuring that early contact between the future elite of the armed forces and the biotics they'd sooner or later come into contact with in the field would go a long way to familiarize the two groups with each other and benefit their ability to work towards a common goal.

He opened the glass door of the bluish office building and stepped into the entry area, the sigil of the school along a rather large portrait of Jon Grissom and the flag of the Human Systems Alliance proudly hanging on the wall opposite to him, a golden inscription written below them but a desperately needed translation of it remaining absent. He spoke most of the still common human languages but due to a lack of practical use, the one the HSA seemed to favour for its sigils and wall inscriptions wasn't among them.

'Non sibi, sed aliis.'

"It means 'not for ourselves, but for others'," a voice explained from his left as the person it belonged to realised that the blonde man wasn't really sure what he was looking at. The specialist turned on his head and found none other than the woman he had been looking for standing in one of the now opened doorways. "I take it you aren't fluent in latin?"

"It's a dead language anyway," he argued as he turned towards the woman of arabic descent. "But it did save me the few steps to your office, Commander Rahal."

"If you don't mind, I'd still prefer if we'd move this talk into it," the woman countered as she stepped to the side, revealing her workplace to the specialist in the process. After a final glance towards the inscription, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Even if he seriously doubted anyone would eavesdrop on them, what he had to say was still important enough for him not to take the chance. The dark haired woman walked around her desk and set down in it, mountains of paperwork and documents, a computer terminal, several commendations and two picture frames occupying the tabletop between them. He'd probably go mad after a single day of working a desk job like this but luckily he wasn't here to take her position.

"To business then?" she asked as a brown folder slid towards him through the narrow gap between the paper mountains, two letters, a service number and the facility's sigil printed on its front.

The HSAIS dedicated an entire bureau to the headhunting of people it deemed to be a good addition to its ranks, recruiting nearly fifty percent of its personal by scouring over the service records of the military, other governmental institutions or schools and picking out potential candidates like decorated veterans, renowned geniuses or protégés. Out of those fifty percent, every seventh candidate eventually found his or her way into the Bureau for Field Work, one of the smaller but certainly the most dangerous department of the intelligence service. Numbering at roughly the same strength of the Naval Special Operations Command, some people rightfully considered them to be a force to be reckoned with, the additional training they received only honing already learned skills to their full potential. Yet out of the nearly twelve thousand field agents that made up their ranks, only three hundred and four were part of the last, smallest and most secretive department of the bureau, Section 13.

"To business," he nodded as he grabbed the folder of the cadet under the suspicious eye of the commander. He knew from personal experience that at least some of Section 13's specialists had been recruited straight out of school, being run through a twelve month special training course before taking part in the screening process but if her look was anything to go by, the commander lacked that knowledge. In her eyes he was considering to put one of her students into the most dangerous training course the HSAIS had to offer without giving him even a moment of preparation. If he would've been allowed to, he would've liked to remove that notion from her head but he wasn't here to do that either.

Out of all the field agents of HSAIS only a handful received the green light to take part in Section 13's screening process. However, in spite of what most people would except, the vast majority of those that had managed to pass the initial screening process in the last seventy years had successfully completed their training, only injury related discharges and the rare training fatalities reducing the numbers of each training class. But it hadn't always been like that. In the past the dropout rate among those trainees that had passed the screening process had been staggering. Injuries, fatalities and mentally broken agents had been a sad but regular occurrence and out of a class of ten already highly qualified individuals only one or two had seen the course through. When the attrition of the training had gotten so bad that Section 13 had gone without new specialists to replace its losses through field action or retirements for years at a time, the HSAIS had decided to take action.

"I've got to ask," the commander spoke. "Why him?"

"He fits the pattern, Ma'am."

"And what exactly is that pattern?"

To combat the incredibly high washout rate and the strain it put on Section 13, a subdivision of the Bureau for Talent Acquisition had been tasked with creating a new screening process, adding an additional first layer to the already present requirements. Out of the thousands of agents who scoured through the records of the HSA, a selected few had been given access to the strictly classified files of Section 13, getting tasked with creating a template based on a study of the lives, personality traits, service records and thought processes observed among the active specialists during that time. He didn't really know what exactly it was that they had deemed important but he knew that it had evidently paid off. While the number of people meeting the screening standards had gone down, attrition during training had become less common. Unlike before washouts and training casualties had become incredibly rare and even though replenishing the losses of conflicts such as the Fringe Wars had taken a long time, the section was no longer just one war shy of extinction.

"Even if I knew what it is that we're looking for, I couldn't tell you," he shrugged apologetic as he opened the folder to reveal a rather inconspicuous face to his eyes. The cadet, like most humans, had a darker hair colour than Redford himself and as expected, his haircut was in line with the regulations placed on male service personal, Grissom Academy still being a military school. The only feature that really stood out to him after the first glance were the hazel eyes looking back at him, the flash of the camera that had taken the picture still reflected in the cadet's pupils. But eyes were hardly something you noticed in a crowd. Should he take Redford's offer, he'd have a much easier time blending in than the specialist himself. He passed the picture and began to read the information below it, realising that the presumed teenager was in fact no longer that, having turned a legal adult a few weeks ago, making him slightly older than Redford had been when a much younger Jon Grissom had approached him on Arcadia with an offer he'd soon extend to this 'Daniel Morneau'.

"I just don't understand why you're not considering one of the graduates," Commander Rahal asked as Redford skimmed over the more personal details of the student's life. For now his life on Earth wasn't that important. "Cadet Morneau is neither an exceptionally strong biotic nor among the better academics that visited this academy. Grissom has produced far more talented cadets."

"We're not interested in him because he's a biotic. It's just a nice coincidence that he happens to be one," Redford countered as he kept reading through the folder, now having reached the interesting part, the school's record of the cadet. While he lacked powerful biotic abilities and fantastic grades, Morneau seemed to excel at most physical activities, especially if competition was put into the mix. Turning the page, Redford found exactly one entry under the subject of 'important notes'.

A few months ago one of his combat instructors had recommended Morneau for a fast track into the army's special operations program after observing him during several lengthy combat drills, deeming his non-biotic abilities more than enough of a reason to do so. But another instructor had quickly shut down that particular suggestion, arguing that not only were the limited fast-track spots being reserved for more academically and biotically inclined cadets but also pointing out past experiences with biotics in ASOC formations had shown that their talents rarely came to use due to the nature of the unit's operations. A small notification next to the name of the later instructor suggested that the two staff members had gotten into a 'heated discussion' over whether or not Morneau should be recommended for the 'normal' way towards ASOC following his graduation next year or simply be sent into one of the marine formations created for biotics, his combat instructor arguing that his non-biotic talents were more useful than his biotic ones but the other, after getting the support of a very familiar biotic instructor, reasoning that human biotics were far too rare to let one slip into a unit that would have less of a use for his abilities than the assault formations actively using biotics during all of their missions who he claimed to be understaffed. He wasn't exactly wrong, if you spent most of your service creeping up on people with optical camo, you could hardly set off biotic fireworks at every corner and the few reports he had heard of these biotic assault formations suggested that they always needed more people.

"So how does this work?" the commander asked. It was a justified question. It wasn't exactly a regular occurrence that one of her students met the screening pattern of Section 13.

"You tell me where I can find him, I go and talk to him and if he accepts my offer, he'll be out here by the end of the week," the commander gave him a rather confused look. "Rapid transfer order," he elaborated.

"I see. Has anyone ever not accepted?" the woman asked. "We might be a military school but personally? I wouldn't want your job. No offense." The specialist could understand where she was coming from, he wouldn't want her job either. But there was more to her question than she let on, it wasn't just a casual statement. While most high ranking officers did well not to show it, just about anyone that ever met a Section 13 agent for the first time was weary of them. Sure, anyone with an inclination to pragmatism recognized how incredibly useful the specialists were but anyone with even a shard of morality in them also recognized the area of grey they thrived in, an area ASOC or N7 operatives only ever brushed up against. He could see why the commander wouldn't want any of her students to go there.

"A lot of the regular HSAIS candidates turn down the offer to join," Redford admitted as he closed the brown folder. "But I've only heard of a few cases of Section 13 candidates turning down a chance like this." For a few moments, the woman remained silent as she looked at the folder in the specialist's hands. A flick of her wrist caused the orange glow of an omni-tool to manifest itself in the room and soon enough Redford received the familiar vibration of a new message.

"You should be able to find Cadet Morneau with this. Every student of our academy is issued with an omni-tool and in case we have to locate them during an emergency, we can use this program to access their positioning system."

"Thank you, Ma'am," he replied as a map appeared from his wrist once he got up. "You'll hear from me."

"I expect to."

The specialist walked towards the door, a quick look back to the commander telling him that he was supposed to close it, and began to follow the path his omni-tool was creating, the realisation that Morneau seemed to be going in a rapid, circular pattern around the campus suggesting that the cadet was either training or that Talent Acquisition's screening had deemed a crazy person a good fit for Section 13. Neither was much of a stretch depending on who you asked. As far as most other races were concerned, every human was slightly unhinged, at least that's what most non-humans he had met had told him. Pushing open the door to the now mostly empty campus, only a few groups of students still lingering in the dusk of Terra Nova's evening, he took exactly three steps before already checking the map again. Better safe than sorry.

If he wasn't mistaking, he'd be able to intercept the dot if he simply kept walking forward fast enough for their paths to cross the next time Morneau lapped the campus. A quick look into the direction he had to go in confirmed that a small dirt path was adjacent to a large area of lawn, the green grass coated in a layer of orange as the sun began to set behind the distant skyline of one of Terra Nova's cities. Spotting a bench at the edge of the greenish-orange lawn, he began to move towards it, counting on the cadet not to stop before he reached Redford's spot. After a short walk the specialist reached his desired resting place and sat down on the white piece of outdoor furniture, leaning back before lifting his hand once more.

Soon enough the dot should be here.

Deciding that he'd recognize Morneau once he got closer, the specialist lowered his omni-tool and let the hologram disappear, instead opting to enjoy the peace and quiet that currently lay on the campus as long as it lasted. Most students probably had other things to do with their time than add more physical training to their schedule but a look to his right confirmed that at least some of them still felt the need to use their evenings for more than just homework or sleep although he was quite sure that this particular group, heavy backpacks on their shoulders, would rather be sleeping right about now. As they passed him with pained expressions on their faces, he almost felt guilty about sitting down while they were presumably training for an upcoming exercise.

Almost.

Chuckling ever so slightly at their misery as the last one passed by, he heard a single set of footsteps grow louder as the chorus of the group that passed him grew more quiet. Turning his head back into the direction Morneau should be coming from, he found his plan to be a success. Jogging past the group a much more refreshed face offered a smile to at least one of the students before waving them good bye, turning his head into the way they were going for a few moments before returning his attention back to his own path.

Only to almost crash into Redford.

A last moment spin to the left allowed the cadet to narrowly avoid colliding with him and in spite of how unexpected the motion had been, Morneau caught his balance as quickly as he had lost it, coming to a quick stop when both of his feet touched the ground, the white soles of his shoes now coated in a layer of brownish dirt.

"And that's why we watch the road and not the girls, Cadet," the specialist chuckled after he had gotten up from the bench and placed himself in his path to engineer a reason for him to stop the younger man.

"Sorry about that, Sir," the cadet replied before attempting to start his jog again. He couldn't let that happen. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of black cloth just as the younger man turned his back towards him and got a feeling for its weight.

"Think fast, Cadet," he called as he quickly tossed the roll towards Morneau, his body turning around almost instantly and his hands shooting out to snatch the object out of the air before it hit the ground to his left. He looked at the black roll in his hand and back to him. "Well, open it," the specialist instructed with a smile. As he started to remove the thin thread holding together the cloth, Redford walked over towards him. "Daniel Morneau, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir," the cadet noted as the thread came loose and he unfolded the roll, revealing it to be a patch with a red dagger stitched in its center.

"Do you know what this is, Morneau?" the specialist asked as he stuffed his hands into his pockets while the cadet turned towards him, looking back at him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. He nodded exactly once and Redford pulled another piece of paper from his pocket, this time unfolding it himself before handing it to the cadet.

"A rapid transfer order to HSAIS," he replied after reading the piece of paper. "Why give this to me?"

"Walk with me," the specialist instructed as he nodded into the direction the cadet had been going, the black shoes of his dress uniform hitting the dirt path and growing dustier with every step he took. "Twenty seven years ago I asked the same question to the guy this academy is named after," he recalled as the sun began to vanish behind the horizon, countless of lights turning on in the buildings in the distance. "He told me that the way he saw it someone like me wouldn't make it past thirty either way and since he knew that I didn't have any other plans, I could at least be useful until then," a dark chuckle escaped Redford's mouth as he realised the irony in having outlived Grissom. "Then he handed me a transfer order like this one and said that the only thing I had to do in order to make a difference was say 'yes'."

The look of the cadet next to him made it clear that he needed to elaborate a bit more.

"I didn't exactly have a bright future ahead of me, made all the wrong kinds of friends and a lot of bad decisions," he explained. "Best case scenario would've been to become a grunt in the marines, worst case scenario probably would've been ending up dead or in jail. Besides those extremes I didn't really have a lot of other options." The two kept walking as a pair of students passed by them on the way to their dorm, the visible half of Terra Nova's moon slowly climbing into the dark orange sky. "So without thinking much or long about it, I said yes. Grabbed his pen and signed the order without hesitation. Only when I put the thing back down did I realised that I didn't really know what Section 13 actually was. Never seen Grissom laugh like that ever again, he almost fell of his bloody chair. He asked me if I wanted to reconsider and began explaining just what it was that he did but when he was done, my answer hadn't changed."

"So if I sign this right now there's a chance you'll burst out in laughter and trip in the process?" the cadet asked as Redford turned to him with a smirk.

"Very tempting, I know," the specialist admitted. "I guess now its my turn to give you that lecture and like Grissom, I won't sugarcoat it, its a hard job. You'll go undercover which means you'll go days, weeks or months without actually ever being able to be yourself and you'll have a lot of tough missions. You'll conduct reconnaissance, espionage, infiltration," the paused for a moment before fulfilling his promise, "assassinations and wet work. All that horrible stuff that's just barely still in the grey area of your moral compass. If you say yes, you'll be expected to do all of these things without a moment of hesitation. Trust me, that takes a lot out of you, especially sleep."

"I can see why it would do that," Morneau nodded as the two came to a halt before Redford turned towards the younger cadet. When he didn't say anything else after the part of his lecture that was supposed to find out if he would decline was finished, the specialist decided to move along.

"But as long as you remember why you're doing this, as long as you make sure you're that on the right side of things when it all comes down to it," Redford began.

"It's worth it,"the cadet muttered as the wind caused the leaves of the tree above them to rattle.

"Yes," the specialist nodded as he reached for the third and final item he had stored in his pockets. "Do you know what this engraving means?" he asked as he handed him his HSAIS badge, the stylized metal emblem depicting a burning torch having lost most of its shine over the years.

"Ego sum custos," Morneau read the words before rotating the badge in his hand a few times as he thought about it for a few seconds. "I am the guardian."

"Technically that's correct," Redford argued as the cadet handed the badge back to him. "But we prefer 'I am the vigil' or 'I am the watcher', fits better with the HSA's coat of arms, you know?" He tossed the old metal badge into the air several times before storing it into his pocket once more. "The way I see it," he began the final of his small, mostly improvised speech. "You've got a lot of options ahead of you. Graduating Grissom Academy? That opens a lot of doors. Army, marines, N7, they're all looking for biotics. Your future is a lot brighter than mine was and the military always need good people. A student of this academy can go a long way in the ranks of an officer," he finished as both the darkness and the silence grew between them. "So it's up for you to decide who you want to be," he finished. Looking at the piece of black cloth in his hand, the cadet began to fold it back together. For a brief moment Redford thought that he'd actually decline the offer but as he realised that the cadet stuffed the patch into his own pocket to free up a hand, their eyes met. There it was, that familiar fire burning right behind their hazel surface. He pulled out a pen and handed it to Morneau.

"I'll be the watcher."

* * *

 _Codex: Prothean civilization_

 _Credited for the creation of the mass relay network, the Citadel and countless other feats of impressive engineering, surprisingly little else is known the protheans besides the fact that they possessed an unrivaled understanding of the mass effect. Neither their appearance, the vast majority of their history, their culture nor their actual system of government are known to the galaxy, an almost complete lack of records making it incredibly difficult to do as much as speculate on any of these factors._

 _What is known about the protheans is that their society spanned the known galaxy from at least 68.000 BC, the earliest a prothean artifact has been dated on the human world of Fehl Prime, until 48.000 BC, the estimated time of the disappearance of the last protheans from the galaxy. During these twenty thousand years of prothean civilization, every currently known space faring race was observed by them for an unknown time period, the ruins of research stations believed to have been benevolent in nature by most being found in every home system before serving as a kickstart for the technological development of every race in the known galaxy._

 _Furthermore it is assumed that the protheans originally hailed from a world in the Attican Traverse, the number and complexity of the prothean ruins increasing exponentially the closer one gets to the region. It should be noted that several renowned scientists have pointed out that the condition of prothean structures seems to worsen in the same pattern for an as of yet unknown reason._

 _When talking about the protheans, one cannot ignore the fact that as of this day it is still unknown why they vanished. Some believe that they migrated from the galaxy due to a series of an unknown reasons or decisions, while others assume that they simply fell victim to a plague or that the low levels of radioactivity emitted from most of their technology may unknowingly to them have attacked their genetic makeup, slowly turning them sterile over the course of hundreds of generations. Additionally a few fringe scientist also consider it a possibility that the protheans may have found a way to 'ascend' to an unknown plain of existence, Other groups reason that an unknown aggressor exterminated their civilization in a lengthy war or that the protheans, for reasons logical to them, decided to simply exterminate themselves, committing a species-wide suicide either through a lack of births or other, more direct means._

* * *

 **A/N: So, chapter 33.**

 **Late because well, let's just say a distrubing large amount of people I know were born in early august and yeah... I don't think I have to say more. Can hardly write on this when I'm not home :D**

 **To the chapter then.**

 **I finally got around to introducing Liara, who has been teased before to be included later down the line. So yeah. For all you blue-folk-liking people... here she is. Now I don't know how reasonable the way it seems that she came to the conclusion she came to BUT for me I found it to be kind of the best way to do this. Of course the reapers would wipe away the obvious traces but dust? They're far too cocky to think about the dust their weapons leave behind.** **Also I remembered that a lot of scientific discoveries were not intended, hence why I made her discover it the way she did. I hope it doesn't seem as deus ex machina as I was worried it would (funfact most of the time spent on this chapter was spent trying to figure out HOW Liara confirms her theory)**

 **Moving on. Politics. I love politics...not. With Cozek gone (rip my lizardy friend) I figured the POV of these council scenes should switch to his successor. Seemed only fitting, mostly because of the things he knows and because he isn't an actual politican. I found his to be the most interesting perspective. Cozek seemed to be popular enough, maybe Valern will be different. I also took care not to make Sparatus the rage monster every other fanfic seems to make him. The guys a councilor guys, ffs. Give him some credit, alright?**

 **Now moving on the the lionshare of the chapter. A deeper look into Section 13 and the introduction of (who paid attention to a single sentence... drumroll please...) my version of the Earth background. As I've said before, I'll adapt every background Shepard can have in Semper Vigilo because Torfan, Akuze and Elysium all happened, no matter if you picked them. Each one will have its associated background attached to it and all of these characters, the Renegade, Paragon and now the Paragade will be more than one-offs. Since the Mindoir/Renegade background and Demon of Torfan are going to Tore Haugen, the ASOC guy from chapter 31, and the Spacer/Paragon and Elysium background are going to Emily Shepard, I think it's obvious which role Daniel Morneau** **will fill.** **(i swear to god if keep I misspelling that fucking name all the time I'll hate myself for picking a french name)**

 **What that says about Akuze remains to be seen, at least for you. I'll just say that much for now, Mindoir was already different in how the character it belongs to was involved but Akuze? Akuze will be...**

 **Nope, no more spoilers for you**

 **Yes I'm actually going to leave that like this. Cliffhanger in the A/N. That's a new level of meta.**

 **For the record, we're at 270 reviews, 469 favorites and 574 follows.**

 **You know what to do, tell me what you think, review and all of that jazz.**

 **See you around next time.**


	34. Buisness As Usual

**Chapter 34.** **Business As Usual**

* * *

 **Late 2145 CE, Citadel, Lower Wards**

"Spirits, tell me you're making this up, Anderson," the turian exclaimed as he looked at the blurry security footage in front of him. When Anderson had asked him to meet him at this less than classy establishment, he had been prepared for the worst but now that he actually saw just what his friend had meant when he had said 'I need to show you something', he realised that nothing could've prepared him for this horror.

"I'd like to do so but sadly I'd be lying," the human replied grimly, his tone dark.

"This is bad, Anderson."

"I know."

"This is absolutely terrible."

"I know"

"How did this go unnoticed? How are we only seeing this now?" Saren exclaimed before placing the palm of his hand in his face, trying and failing to put some kind of barrier between him and the recording of two very familiar figures climbing alongside the edge of a Presidium apartment that was playing in front of his eyes in the foolish hope of rendering it non-existent. Even after realising that he needed to see this, it took every piece of resolve in his mind not to look away.

"Apparently the officer that was tasked with looking over the block that night recognized you and thought you were doing some highly classified Council business. The official recording went straight into C-SEC's archives, no second reviewing. Flagged as top secret. But he did keep a copy of it for himself."

"At least some good news," the turian argued, more than impressed by the fact that this entire ordeal had gone unmentioned for nearly eight years than by the feat of climbing a Presidium apartment in the state they had been in during that night without dying. "How did you get it?"

"The officer retired a few weeks ago and decided to solve the last mystery of his career before heading back to Palaven. When he didn't find you, he tracked down me. When he asked me about the mission, I very nearly gave us away."

"Very nearly?" the turian questioned as the two figures kept ascending alongside the building's facade.

"He caught me off-guard, alright? It's not every day that someone shows you a recording of your worst hangover," Anderson chuckled. "After stumbling over my own words, I told him we were tracking a contact of the Shadow Broker and since his agents were on our trail we had to act like drunken idiots to fool them. I think he bought it."

"Impressive," he admitted. "So he just gave you this? No remarks?" the turian asked as his mandibles twitched in embarrassment while the two figures stumbled over the railing of a balcony, knocking down several pieces of furniture before finally sitting down, bottles clearly visible in their hands. "How did he not see that we really were incredibly drunk?"

"Maybe he thought we were very convincing actors?" Anderson offered as the recording kept playing, every second causing Saren to reconsider if tonight, or ever again really, was a good time for their semi-regular social meetings involving alcohol. Maybe they should find another, less embarrassing activity like karaoke or stand-up comedy.

"I'm good, but not that good," the turian frowned as he rotated the glass in his hands, causing the blue liquid to spin in circles while Anderson, the one in the recording, fell face first over a chair he had knocked over a few seconds before, trying to roll in an attempt to break his fall only to bump into the next chair in the process, rubbing his head before struggling to get back on his feet. "And I thought learning that you tried Ryncol was bad enough."

"We agreed to never again talk about that particular detail," the human Spectre countered as he took another sip of his drink. "But then again, this one isn't over just yet. Take a good look at yourself, Arterius," he added as the two figures once more went over the railing, the Saren of the recording pausing for a few moments before deciding that the plant resting on one of the tables they miraculously hadn't bumped into should join them for the rest of their adventure. Seeing himself pick up the plant with one hand before easily descending the facade with only the help of his other one, he realised that even in his heavily intoxicated state the countless of hours of climbing he had done during his Blackwatch training had surfaced. At least now he had an explanation for having woken up alongside a piece of salarian shrubbery back then.

"Spirits," the turian growled at his past foolishness before he decided to down his drink either way. "How did we even get up there? Chora's Den is three blocks from here and the Presidium may as well be the other end of the Citadel."

"That my apparently botanically-inclined friend, I cannot answer," Anderson laughed before closing the omni-tool. "That's one more blank we've filled."

"Leaving just a thousand more," Saren argued as he leaned back in the seat he was occupying.

"Small victories," Anderson declared as he raised his empty glass towards the bartender before turning back towards Saren. "So besides your current embarrassment, how have you been? We haven't exactly seen each other a lot in the last year," he asked, the hint of concern in his voice not going unnoticed by the turian. He was right, between an unusually high amount of assignments, the writing of their respective reports and finding out that the Harbinger had exterminated the protheans, Saren hadn't found a lot of time for social drinking in the last twelve standard months. Sure, they had bumped into each other time and again but the last time they had actually sat down and talked had been far too long ago.

"I've been good. Busy but good. What about you?" the turian Spectre shrugged after deciding not to mention the later burden that was weighing him down before Anderson raised his eyebrow at Saren's reply. "What?"

"I know that tone, its your half truth tone, Saren," the human Spectre countered. "Come on," he pressed on. "You can talk to me, I've got the right security clearance for a pep-talk," he jokingly added before his tone grew more serious. "Did a mission go bad?"

"Not that I recall, no," Saren spoke as he wondered just how the N7 knew that something was up. Admittedly, he had expected to have a conversation along these lines shorty after their encounter with Tevos, the question as to how the asari knew of his beyond secret activities still unanswered, but when that hadn't happened, a part of him had started to believe that his friend had decided to let the issue of just what he was doing with most of his time go.

Apparently that belief had been wrong.

"Something's obviously going on, I can tell that much. You're acting different," Anderson countered. "Listen, I'm not expecting you to have an emotional breakdown any time soon, you're not that kind of person, but whatever it is that's weighing you down, you don't have to carry it by yourself. I'm not going to claim that I understand what's going on, I don't know if I do, but for your own sake, don't let it crush you."

The N7 turned his head ever so slightly as he looked at him for some sort of reaction, unaware of the things going on in the turian's head. He wanted to tell him, he really did. Anderson wasn't just a competent Spectre or a valuable figure in the HSA's political and military network, he was also one of the few people Saren really considered a friend. Yet at the same time he knew that if his human associates hadn't done so up to now, there had been a reason for that. A reason that became evident once he gave it a few moments of thought. Anderson was a good soldier and an even better man, there was no doubt in that. But the shadows they were chasing were too dark of a place for men like Anderson to be in. A person that was as true to their principles as him was simply not the kind of person a situation such as the one he was in required. He knew Anderson, the moment he learned that something as dangerous as the Harbinger was being kept a secret, he would insist on warning everyone about it and under any other circumstances he would've agreed with that notion.

But sadly it weren't any other circumstances that he found himself in. They couldn't tell the galaxy what was going on until they had a clear idea of what the Harbinger was, it was simply too dangerous. Once they knew how to fight him, Anderson would be one of the first people Saren would want next to him but until then, he simply couldn't. With a heavy heart, he made his decision for on the matter for the time being.

"I'm sorry but I can't tell you," he sighed as he set the empty glass back on the table, the rays of the reddish club light dancing on its surface and reflecting of the droplets of alcohol as the music box next to them caused them to vibrate ever so slightly, the one he was focusing on slowly but surely running down towards the small puddle of liquor that had collected at the bottom of the glass, soon to be part of a greater whole. As their eyes met, he went on to give Anderson the reply the N7 was presumably hoping for. "But I'll be fine, trust me."

He knew that he hadn't sounded nearly as convincing as he would've liked to but there was nothing he could do about that right now.

"Alright," the N7 spoke as the suddenly present bartender put himself between them to not only pick up Saren's own empty glass but also sat down Anderson's fresh beverage, its golden content still putting a semi-transparent barrier between the two as the human lifted it to his lips once the salarian had withdrawn. He took a sip of the beverage before breaking eye contact, looking at something behind Saren. "If you're ever ready to share, I'll be here."

"I appreciate that," he truly meant it, even if it probably sounded like the kind of thing one was expected to say to such an offer.

"Good," Anderson nodded before his mouth twisted into a sheepish grin, a quick look over his shoulder allowing Saren to spot the small glasses at the bar which had caught the N7's attention. Before he could say anything, his human companion emptied the mostly full glass in his hand and began walking to the bar. "Now I've had about enough of this serious talk for now, let's try to lure out that botanically-inclined side of yours again, shall we?"

This would be one of those nights, wouldn't it? Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe he needed one of those nights to clear his mind. There was only one way for him to find that out.

"If I wake up next to anything worse than a salarian plant, I'm blaming you," the turian called before falling in behind him.

"I'm fine with that as long as I also get credit for you waking up to anything better than a salarian plant."

* * *

 **17\. March 2405 AD** **, Arcadia** **, Peak Ninty One**

"I can still get him," he muttered into his microphone as he pushed through the stream of people going along their business in spite of the rain currently pouring down on their heads. For a suburban area, the town square was rather lively, he had to admit that much. Of course it was nothing compared to Earth, unlike on the plazas of the mega city he had grown up in, one could still claim to have adequate room in this crowd. But even if it was far more spacious than he was used to growing up, the mass of people had still worked against him. Their mark, a wanted terrorist intending to strike at an as of yet unknown but presumably very sensitive location, knew that someone was tracking him and had done a more than just adequate job at putting as many bystanders between himself and his pursuer, using the sea of umbrellas to obstruct his movements all the while adjusting his speed to the flow of the crowd, making it incredibly hard to keep track of him.

"Don't get too cocky. He definitely saw you back there, you're walking into a trap," his partner replied from her elevated position further up. Sitting on the balcony of a cafe overlooking the small maze of alleys adjacent to the town square, she acted as his overwatch through the use of both her own eyes and a small reconnaissance drone currently hovering over the area, both allowing him to actually stay on the right track. "You've got to know when to call it, don't risk it."

"He's right in front of me, Yo-yo. We can't just let him get away."

"I'm not saying that we should. I'm saying that if he made you, his buddies are waiting for you. Get out of there while you still can, we'll get another shot later. Let's regroup and try another approach. The drone can keep track of him while we relocate."

Coming to a sudden halt in the crowd, he momentarily considered that particular approach. If the mark had really seen him, he would've called for reinforcements by now. Sure, he could take a couple of goons but they were supposed to capture and interrogate their target, if a fight ensured that might not be possible. Then again if he'd let him get away, they definitely wouldn't get another shot at him, even if their drone remained airborne. If the mark had anything resembling a brain, he'd disappear into a building and drop of the face of the earth before leaving HSA space, coming back stronger and more dangerous a few months later down the line. Seeing the figure vanish into a corner street that should lead him right to a subway station, he made his decision. The risk of continuing the mission was worth the prospect of stopping him right here, right now.

"You still got eyes on the mark?" he answered as he began walking again.

"Yes, he's walking into another alley way right now," it came back to him through the earpiece. "But I'm still telling you to get the hell out of there."

"So he's still alone?" he spoke as he pressed two of his fingers against the earpiece.

"Yes."

"Good, keep the drone right above him," he replied before dropping his arm back to his left side.

"What are you doing, Magic? Get back here, we need to regroup," Yo-yo insisted in an aggravated tone just as he picked up his pace.

"Just keep me on the right path," 'Magic' simply replied. He slithered through the dozens of people between him and their target and stepped into the corridor,his right hand lingering close to the SIS-8 stashed under his jacket, ready to be used. When he reached the first crossroad, unsure of which way to go, he didn't even have to ask.

"Take a right and then another right. He's using the blocked off backstreet running parallel to the town square. Looks empty, seems like the construction workers left early today."

Following the instructions of his partner, he rapidly did as he was told, only slowing down as he got closer to the corner beyond which their target would be walking. His heart began to beat faster ever so slightly as he crept along the concrete wall, coming to a stop at its edge. This was it. He pressed himself against the wall of the hardware store and spun around, a quick look behind him confirming that no one had followed him thus far. Taking care not to create any sounds, he set his eyes on the dark-haired figure he was tracking and continued his pursuit, moving from cover to cover to avoid being spotted, using various pieces of construction equipment to stay hidden. The hands of their mark rested in the pockets of his leather jacket, increasing the chance of some sort of weapon being used against him and the unnaturally fast walking speed suggested that the mark was either in fact aware that someone was tracking him, or that he simply didn't fancy the thought of strolling through the rain without as much of a hood to cover his head. Pulling the pistol from his own jacket and pressing it to his chest to ensure his draw would be quicker than that of the mark, he quickly went over his options.

They were supposed to bag the man for questioning without making too much of a scene for the public so simply shooting him in the back was not the way to go. Tracking him until he was cornered also seemed unlike, if he had been made, there was no telling when his buddies would join the party. He could try to quickly gain on him before knocking him out at close range, his biotics would definitely give him an advantage over the dark-haired figure but dashing towards him would msot likely cause him to turn around, spot him and make a run for it, possibly leaving this more secluded part of town and once more putting innocent bystanders between them.

"You wouldn't happen to have a shortcut for me, would you?" he once more whispered into his microphone as he realised that he wouldn't be able to get to their mark in time without running towards him and in turn drawing his attention.

"Go behind the orange truck. There's a small fence you can jump. Go over it and head left past a workshop. If you hurry, you'll be able to cut him off at the end of the backstreet near a blue building."

"Much appreciated," he replied before climbing over the fence, dropping down on the other side and beginning a swift jog through the backyard of some sort of car store, jumping over a halfway disassembled vehicle that stood between him and the cross section he was heading for. Landing on his feet with practiced ease, he raised his pistol once more before closing in on the cut-off point near the blue building, his breath becoming slightly faster as he spotted a leg, which probably belonged to their target, appearing from beyond the corner of the backstreet he was looking to intercept. A few moments later, once the rest of the person had appeared as well, his reasonable suspicion was confirmed. He broke into a sprint just as the target turned his head, launching himself forward to close the small gap between them. His feet left the ground as a layer of purple embraced him, increasing the speed he should actually be able to achieve with a jump like that just enough for him to grab a hold of the dark-haired man. The two collided, rolling across the wet pavement and coming to a stop as they smashed into a large dumpster, denting it ever so slightly in the process. Trading a few blows, he quickly got on top of the man and locked his arms by pressing his knees as close to the target's shoulders as possible. He leveled his SIS-8 at the man's face , staring down the grey eyes, realising that he was smiling just as he felt an object made of metal touching his head ever so slightly, its cold end sending a tingling feeling down his spine and a grunt out of his mouth.

"You're dead, Agent Morneau," a voice chuckled, causing him to lower the gun and his mark to smirk even more. Turning to his left, he found Redford standing behind him, a pistol with blue highlights, marking this particular gun as a training gun, held firmly in one hand. "How does it feel?"

"Surprisingly lively. Although I thought the weather would be a bit nicer than this," he admitted before getting up, extending a hand to the other specialist he had been ordered to chase. He pulled him to his feet and the man wiped his hands on his jacket for a few times before cracking his neck. "Should've listened to Yo-yo," Morneau went on.

"Yes and no. We made you way before Agent Young called it. Played you like a fiddle ever since you split up," the mark, Alec Shepard, offered before nodding towards his partner. "We got you so focused on tracking me that you didn't even notice him tracking you."

"You played by our rules, that's what got you killed," Redford added. "If you allow us to, we'll always dictate the terms under which you have to engage us. That's never a good thing. On jobs like this you should try to grab your mark when they're not suspecting it. Lure them into a sense of security and corner them without them actually realising it," the specialist explained before cracking a smile,"and for the love of god, don't go chasing them through a bloody alleyway if you can avoid it. That's the complete opposite of them not suspecting it."

"Understood," Morneau nodded as he pushed the training pistol back into the holster hidden under his jacket, only now spotting the bleeding wound on his hand. Apparently their little scrap and the accompanying fall had been a bit more violent than he had originally realised. Wiping the dirt out of the wound in an attempt to clean it, he returned his attention to his supervising specialist. "This fuck up's on me, Sir. Young told me to abort and I didn't listen."

"Its never just on one of you, Morneau," the other specialist corrected before Redford could reply. "You work as partners, you fail as partners. She didn't notice him either. We played both of you."

"Look on the bright side. The two of you screwed up but at least you showed some bite while you were at it. Young gave you an excellent shortcut and once you saw Alec, you went all in," the blonde man finally shrugged after sharing a look with his own partner. "You didn't really expected it to work but you still tried to stop him because you knew that he'd get away if you didn't make a move. Sometimes being bold does pay off, you just picked the wrong time. Young reacted to your little stunt pretty much instantly as well, that adaptability can come in incredibly handy if you learn to capitalize on it. "Regroup and report back to me when the two of you arrive at the starting position. We're running the same scenario again," the specialist instructed before walking off the way he had come from, only taking a few steps before stopping dead in his tracks, "and Morneau?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Don't sweat it, we didn't catch anyone until our training was just about over either. We'll keep playing you for a long time."

Receiving another slap on the back from Shepard, he threw a look into the way they were going before glancing at the balcony, a brunette woman leaning over the railing and looking at him with what he suspected to be a 'I told you so' face. They hadn't worked together for that long, only starting their actual Section 13 training less than three months ago, but he didn't need to know someone for long to recognize a situation in which they'd have that particular expression.

"You heard that, right?" he spoke into his earpiece as the rain began to stop.

"Yep."

"Then why are you still standing up there?" he raised his arms at her in confusion before running a hand through his soaking wet hair.

"The elevator's broken and I'm not walking that flight of stairs again without someone sharing my misery."

"You'll really be that petty?" he chuckled as he began to walk towards the building.

"Why don't you consider it your daily source of cardio training?" Yo-yo visibly shrugged before sitting down on one of the chairs, evidently content with waiting.

"Don't get too comfy, I'll be right there."

"I'll be right here."

* * *

 **7\. July 2406 AD** **, Earth** **, District Southern Brazil** **, Marine Corps Recruit Depot Rio Grande**

"You still like it?" her mother asked through the outdated terminal she had taken with her for exactly this purpose, the connection much better than she would've expected it to be.

"The food is terrible, the days are long and the humidity is torture," she replied before removing a surprisingly rebellious strand of hair out of her field of vision, leaning back in her chair only to realise that that particular area of the room was currently occupied by the final rays of Earth's setting sun, its orange glow finding its way through the open window and right into her eyes. Bringing up her hand to restore her vision, she cracked a smile. "But yes, I still like it. Once you get used to it, its not half bad."

"I told you to go with the navy. They don't have to run around the rain forest all day and they get decent food," her father shrugged as the red-haired woman next to him turned her head towards him, her look indicating that the statement was not only very far from the truth but also hiding her amusement at the irony of it. Given his job, he had most definitely run around a rain forest without decent food quite a few times."Are the people treating you alright or do I have to come over and have a talk with some of them?"

"Dad, please," she sighed with a small chuckle as another lighting storm in the distance made itself known through the first crack of thunder. They had already been soaking wet when they had been sent into the weekend, she didn't feel like repeating that now that she was actually completely dry for the first time in nine hours. She probably should get up and close that window before rain started to pour down from the sky for the second time of the day but for now the coast, or rather the sky, was still clear, the dark clouds only lingering over the distant green sea of tree canopies. She'd still have time to close it once she was done talking, no need to interrupt this long overdue, albeit digital, family reunion. While their jobs had been the reason they met in the first place, the lines of work her parents had ironically made it difficult to get both of them in one place more than three,four or five times a year. Growing up, she had come to tressure those times. Between her early childhood of living on Arcturus and the years since they had moved to Benning following the attack on the space station, she had spent far more time with seeing her parents being separated by several light-years than with seeing them in the same room. It was always nice to see them side by side, even if it came at the cost of her not actually being physically present. This was where they were at their happiest, few things could beat that in her mind.

"I'm kidding," he replied before his face grew a bit more serious. "Unless, of course, you want me to. In that case I'll be right over."

"Alec, we talked about this," her mother frowned through the comlink as she placed the palm of her hand square on her face. "Now that she's eighteen, no more intimidation tactics."

"Kidding it is then," the man rubbed his neck as he looked at her. It never got old to see someone in his line of work back down to her mother. "But the people are still alright, right?"

"Yes, the people here are a good bunch," Emily nodded to satisfy his mixture of worry and curiosity. She knew that he hadn't quite gotten over the thought of her growing up just yet, as such there was no need to be mean about it. It was kind of sweat, really. Furthermore, she had expected him to be even more concerned, he had never liked the thought of her enlisting at all, let alone with the intention of becoming an officer in the marine corps. While other recruits had stated that their mothers were the ones most worried, she had experienced the exactly opposite situation. Her mother, herself a commissioned officer serving in the navy, had not only praised her for the decision but actively encouraged her to go for it if she felt like it was the right path, only displaying the slightest hint of interservice rivalry when she had picked the marines in favour of the navy. It had been her father who had suggested that there were other ways for her to make a difference, ways not involving combat. But during her final school year she had come to believe that the corps was the right way for her, a believe that had already been all but confirmed during the two months she had attended basic training. "And sure, some days you really don't like what you're doing but when you settle down, you realise its not all that bad."

"We're glad you like it, Emily," her mother smiled as Alec placed an arm around her. "And words can't describe how proud we are of you."

"Thanks," she smiled, slightly unsure of how to continue the conversation. "So," she began in an attempt to get back on the more casual road, stretching the word out far beyond its natural boundaries, "the two of you got any special plans now that you're at home?"

"As a matter of fact we do," her dad replied.

"I'm listening," she said as she folded her hands behind her head.

"Your father is taking me out for the first time in ages."

"Does he now?" she asked, causing her dad to raise an eyebrow at her,"I'm kidding. Where to?"

"The restaurant we went to for my birthday two years ago, he always thought it would be nice to go back there once we have the time," her mother said as she poked the man next to her in the chest. "Probably because of the one waitress that liked him way too much."

"It's all about the kitchen," the man dismissed to defend his innocence, "Never eaten better food in my life." After another look of her mother and her own frown he realised his obvious and very nearly fatal mistake. "Except your mothers, of course."

"So that's how it is," Emily chuckled at her father's last minute safe, "you're enjoying fancy italian food while I'm being subjected to the abomination the corps calls spaghetti."

"You'll wish for those spaghetti when you see what the navy considers mashed potatoes," her mother countered with amusement.

"When's your reservation?" she idly asked, as another crack of thunder echoed through the air, this one noticeably closer. Maybe she'd have to close that window during their talk after all.

"In fourty minutes," her dad replied after a moment of consideration.

"Wait a minute. That place is thirty minutes from our house, isn't it?" she recalled from her memory.

"Don't worry about it, we still got time, we don't want to rush this," her mom countered. "We can always reschedule. Talking to our daughter is far more important than some reservation."

"No, no, no, no, no, it's fine," Emily dismissed with a smile after shaking her head. "You're not missing out on your first date in ages just because I'm feeling talkative."

Sharing a look her parents began to consider her words.

"We can't jus leave you all alone for the rest of the evening," her mother returned as she presumably realised that the room around Emily was still empty.

"Don't worry about me. You go enjoy your evening, I'll make my own candlelight dinner with two flares and a couple of emergency rations," she reinforced as she saw the doubt on her parents' faces. "It's getting late on Earth anyway," the still present daylight wasn't doing that statement any favour but she had to try. "It's fine, you go to your date and I'm going to bed. It'll be like the old days, only this time my babysitters are a bunch of armed marines."

"We love you, Emily," her mother replied, evidently feeling a bit of guilt.

"Love you too," she quickly said. "Now go to your date, shoosh," she waved her hands at the screen until it finally turned black, sighing ever so slightly when it finally did. Sometimes they were too considerate for their own sake.

Now what to do with the rest of the evening?

Looking through the empty room, the fellow recruits that shared it with her off doing god knows what with the precious little free time they had, she eyed her bed for a few seconds. Now that she gave it more thought, sleeping didn't sound like such a bad idea but she just knew that she'd wake up the moment her 'roommates' showed up again, Emily had always been a light sleeper, a trait that while useful when being in the field had turned out to be anything but an advantage as far as life in the barracks was concerned. Not a day went by without some sort of noise waking her up in the middle of the night, whether it was as far away as a door being shut somewhere down the floor or as close as the snoring of one of the recruits she shared her room with. But as with all things, she had looked for and eventually found a bright side to her situation. Emily had grown used to the perpetual lack of sleep that was associated with serving in the military way earlier than most of her fellow marines, a fact that had already paid off when they had begun actually being pushed to their limits. When others were starting to make mistakes as a result of exhaustion, she managed to stay focused until she was actually done with whatever mission or assignment had been given to her.

That was something, right?

In spite of accepting that this night would be as short as the others, she found herself her yawning, stretching her arms into the air just before another, far closer crack of thunder accompanied by the sound of rain breaking from the clouds finally pursued her to close the window. Getting up from the chair, she pushed it under the desk for them time being before walking over to the opened window, shutting it after taking in a final breath of the unquie air that accompanied this particular show of nature's force. Satisfied with her measures to keep everything inside the room, including herself, from being drenched by the rain, Emily Shepard figured that while her bed would not offer her sleep until her roommates returned, it was still the by far most comfortable piece of furniture to be on for the time being. Kicking off her shoes, she climbed the ladder to the top bunk before dropping down on the mattress, the exhaustion of the day only now manifesting itself.

When she opened her omni-tool, its brightness caused Emily to finally let out a groan she had held in for the entire day. Between early physical training, a several kilometer long march through the rough terrain around their base and a few extra rounds across the obstacle course right after lunch, her legs were starting to ache more with every moment she spent lying down. The bed might not have been such a good idea after all but now she had to deal with its consequences. As always, she'd try to make the most out of it. Optimism hadn't failed her before, why should it start doing so now. While she wouldn't be able to get some quality time with her bed for the time being, nothing stopped her from being productive. Her mossy green eyes, which alongside her hair colour were yet another trait she had most definitely inherited from her mother's side of the family, adjusted to the orange glow and set themselves on a file she had meant to finish reading for quite some time. Opening the document, she began skipping ahead to the page she had previously been on. While this ancient piece of turian literatur, both the autor and the actual translation of its title lost to history and still highly disputed among leading historians but generally believed to have been something along the lines of 'Memories of the Night', was not a part of the list of reading materials she was expected to indulge in during her officer training, she saw no reason not to broaden her horizon during her spare time.

Since this particular book dealt with both the topics of warfare and leadership, it would do nothing but benefit her later down the line. While most of its raw tactical advice was outdated beyond believe, still referring to a spear wall as the most lethal formation on any open battlefield, the overarching ideas the unknown general had on maneuvering, the morale and most importantly the leadership of his troops were still relevant to this day. As she was one day expected to lead people, the least she could do was to prepare herself to do so. In her mind the only thing remotely as valuable in that preparation as first hand experience, which she had very little of at the moment, was drawing from the experience of others. If that experience was hidden between the lines of an unknown general's description of encircling an army and wiping them out to a man with pointy wooden sticks, she'd find it, even if it took her some time to do so.

* * *

 **9\. Februrary 2407 AD, Uncharted Moon in the Skyllian Verge**

"What the fuck are they doing?" Tore Haugen muttered as he lowered the binoculars and pulled his rifle back up, the distinctively batarian figures working on some kind of station once more turning into blurry, brown figures that merely clashed with the white around them. He recognized the markings on one of the brown hardsuits, this group was part of the Hegemony's External Forces. When he had been ordered to investigate rumors of batarian activity on a remote, mostly frozen planet orbiting a gas giant the HSA Navy sporadically used as a firing range, he had expected a lot of things. Slavers setting up a daring outpost in hopes of making a profit or spies trying to listen in on naval chatters being the two most likely scenarios. What he hadn't expected was finding an actual batarian army unit instead. Once they had arrived, his team had located a patrol and quickly stalked them back to the batarian base camp, if one could even be bothered to call a small transport vessel no bigger than a civilian transport and a single communications tower a base camp. After a quick assessment of the situation they were in, the ASOC operatives were preparing to strike.

"Damned if I know," Sergeant Hofmann commented from next to him, the filter in their helmets keeping their warm breath from revealing their position. "Looks like they're setting up some kind of transmission array, Captain."

"Sneaky fuckers aren't even supposed to be here," the officer replied as the press of a button made him disappear, his optical camouflage embracing the surface of his light armor and in doing so allowing him to blend in nearly flawlesslywith the snowy hill his unit was occupying. "What do you say, Sergeant, should we throw a little welcoming party for them?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Phantom Squad, form up on me," Haugen ordered as he rose from his prone position, a quick look to the left confirming that the blizzard was still slowly but steadily gaining on them. Unless they wanted to get lost and freeze to death, they'd have to make this one quick. Their hardsuits would give them more time than usual but even their heaters would eventually bow to the harsh climate of this moon. If the got unlucky and missed their extraction window, they might have to wait out the storm in the transport vessel, if they managed to get inside it that is.

As the other three members of his reconnaissance team followed him down the slope, a keen observer would've been able to tell that they were moving, their optical camo being just that, optical. Even if they were invisible, they were still present and as such each step they made towards the uninvited visitors and their base camp left a depression in the snow. Soon enough a faint but still visible path appeared on the slope leading down the hilltop. But it wasn't just the snow on the ground that could give them away. Small flakes of the increasingly faster snowfall were starting to cover parts of the almost invisible figures in a currently thin but still treacherous layer of white. Luckily for them, the batarians, who after leaving the ranks of the Citadel's associates were considered trespassers on a planet in Council Space, were far too busy with the tower in front of them to pay any mind to perimeter security. A dedicated guard or even a good look in their direction by one of the technicians would've been more than enough to warn them of the four ghostly figures wandering towards them and could've either prevented or at least delayed their impeding deaths. But apparently these batarian technicians suffered from the same tunnel vision their human counterparts tended to experience when focusing on the task at hand.

"There's another one behind the tower," he heard a member of his squad point out as a figure appeared from behind the array, their previous position making him impossible to see up to now. Like with his companions, pieces of his brown armor were covered in a layer of snow and each time he exhaled, a small cloud of hot air clashed with the breathable but painfully cold atmosphere around him. As the figure walked over to an orange glowing device drilled into the ground next to his working site, presumably some kind of heater that allowed the batarians to work in the cold for far longer than usual, Haugen spotted the faint outlines of yet another three batarians appearing near the array. Unlike the other new arrival, they seemed to appear out of the encroaching blizzard and as such quickly hurried towards the heater unit, longing for its warm embrace.

"Just as blind as the rest of 'em," another member of his team argued as the batarian threw a glance in their way, failing to spot them as the vanguard of the blizzard rolling towards them began to descend on their area.

"Let's make sure that it stays that way," Captain Haugen instructed before raising his hand and forming a fist with it, causing his unit to stop. "Get set, Phantom Squad. I want eyes on the ship, a rifle firing on the heater group and someone to take care of the stragglers. I've got the tower."

As he heard his fellow operatives space out to get a better line of sight on the group in front of them, he risked another glance to his left only to realise that the snow front was picking up its pace. They had to hurry if they wanted to avoid not only frostbite but also fighting in near zero visibility. While their HUDs could counteract less severe visual obstructions, a full blown blizzard would be too much of a challenge. In a few minutes all they'd be seeing would be a white wall of snow.

"I've got eyes on the ship," a voice whispered through the radio in his helmet while his HUD outlined the figures for him, putting markers on the ones the rest of his team were targeting, small red crosses appearing over the heads of the batarians one after another.

"In position for the tower," he replied as he took a knee to steady his aim, his sights coming to a stop over the head of one batarian working on a terminal adjacent to the array structure. The figure, much like his comrades, was still completely unaware of the ASOC unit that had stalked them for several hours.

"All set on the heater, Sir," Hofmann confirmed.

"Good to go for stragglers, they're not going anywhere."

"Execute."

In the blink of an eye a burst of full metal jacket rounds accelerated through the muzzle of his SR-8 before penetrating the thin back of a batarian helmet, a dark-red mist spraying onto the brownish metal of the communication tower before his body hit the floor, the warm blood flowing out of the wound quickly mixing with the white snow below it just as a detonation echoed through the snowy plain, the sight of several burning batarians covered in the liquid that had fueled the heater they had previously enjoyed trying and failing to extinguish the flames covering their armor appearing in the corner of his vision. Seeing them drop into the snow only to be struck by Hofmann's bullets, he shifted his rifle to a figure appearing to the right of the tower's terminal, the adrenaline running through Haugen's veins making his movements appear far slower than they actually were. The batarian walked a few steps forward and spotted the human shooters but before he could even go for the rifle slung around his shoulders, a hole exploded through his chest, six well placed rounds first collapsing the barriers before punching through the armor, the batarian and the tower behind it, a bright flash of sparks jumping through the air in the process. He broke contact with the dead alien to engage the technician currently working on the antenna of the tower, the safety ropes holding him in place making him a rather easy target for Haugen. He squeezed his trigger four times and not a second later the batarian, who had frantically tried to undue the ropes that were supposed to be his life insurance, went limp, blood dripping down from a hole in his neck as the corpse dangled in the half-opened safety harness.

More SR-8 fire erupted to his left as the skeleton crew of the transport left the safety of their craft to join what they believed to be an even firefight, their heated flight suits offering little to no protection as they stumbled down the ramp, dead before ever making a difference. As he spotted a batarian running towards the transport, he took aim but as the single bark of an DMR-8, a version of the SR-8 modified for designated marksmanship, roared through the now silent snow plain, the head of the lone survivor of the intruders exploding in a mixture of gore and armor fragments, he lowered his rifle. The ASOC operative scanned his surroundings, a quick count confirming that all batarians had perished while all four humans remained standing. Even with a numerical advantage, the batarians hadn't been able to cope with the element of surprise.

"Good job," he breathed in relief. This could've gone a lot worse in his mind. "Hofmann, you're on point. Take care of this thing so we can get out of here," he spoke as one of the ghostly figures, thin cloakes of snow now clinging to all of them, once more began to advance on the base camp, an ever faster moving wall of snow causing his HUD to increase the brightness with which it outlined the lone ASOC operative in an attempt to counteract the decreasing visibility.

When the wall of white grew even thicker, his naked eye already incapable of making out even the most basic features of his subordinate, his HUD made it quite clear that the soldier had already planted the demolition charge on the unfinished structure. As such he expected their demolitions specialist to return to the group any moment now but when that moment didn't occur after nearly a minute, Haugen got curious.

"Talk to me, Sergeant," he inquired as the NCO remained standing in front of the array.

"This tower is pretty curious, Sir."

"Curious enough to risk dying in a blizzard?"

"As a matter of fact it might just be."

"Clarify."

"This thing is just another part of a much larger network of communication links," the sergeant explained while his armor informed Haugen of the rapidly dropping temperature. They couldn't stay much longer. "They've been setting up some kind of rapid transmission system from here all the way to batarian space."

"What for?"

"Damned if I know."

"Great," he muttered as he looked at the timer, deciding that their Kodiak had to start moving right about now. Sending the signal to the ship waiting in orbit, his HUD informed him that they'd make it out just in time not to be at the mercy of the snow storm. "Anything else left to recover?"

"The network is all I can give you, Sir. The actual hard drive is a goner, bullet went straight through it. There might be something left to salvage in the vessel."

"Unlikely, batarian crews wipe their drives clean when they're attacked in enemy territory. The Hegemony likes secrets," Haugen said as he remembered his past encounters with batarian forces. They hardly if ever left anything behind for their captors, especially those who were part of the more elite branch of the batarian military that ventured beyond the borders of their space. After realising that it had probably been his round that had done the damage, he cursed under his breath while looking at the rifle in his hand. That was the drawback of the SR-8's considerably higher armor penetration, had he used an SR-7, they'd still have that drive. They could've used that data, if the batarians were setting up a communication network in humanity's backyard, they needed to know why, especially now that the Hegemony and its slaver gangs were growing braver with every day. If they were planing something big, the HSA could use every shred of warning it could get.

"Alright, we can't leave that thing standing. Fall back and blow the charges. We're done here for now, the navy can take apart the transport tomorrow. Maybe this crew didn't follow protocol," he instructed, not really believing his last statement.

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

 **3\. March 2407 AD, Kepler Verge, Fringe of the Newton System**

"We both know the answer but I still have to ask for the sake of protocol," the woman frowned as they looked at the object on mainscreen of the bridge, countless of smaller scorch marks on the tip of its red bow and a gaping hole near one of its angled, black wings already telling her what she needed to know. "Did we detect any life signs onboard?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Alright. I can't believe that we actually found it," Drescher muttered as she remained fixated on the broken craft floating in the distance, its general shape resembling that of the aged cruiser she was currently standing on, the long, narrow center section encompassed by angled wings typical for all human ships, HSA or others. Yet for all the visual similarities between this craft and the ones flying under the colours of the HSA, they couldn't have been more different. An experimental drive core, an experimental layer of armor and four very much experimental spinal railguns expensive enough that they could've bought an entire fleet instead were just the most distinctive features which set this craft apart from anything their enemies had ever constructed. When she had gotten word that it had actually been found, she had been skeptical. No ship suffering the damage this one had suffered should've survived long enough to drag itself through a relay and out of combat but evidently the prototype had done just that. Instead of abandoning their posts in favour of an escape pod, the captain and his crew had decided to ensure that their vessel could be salvaged at a later point, hoping to make a final difference for the IFS.

"Should we sent the boarding party over now?"

"Yes, we need that reactor breach sealed as soon as possible. We can't power her up while she's still leaking," she replied as the screen in front of her magnified the hole, a crystalline cloud of blue Element Zero still gathered around it, "have them accompanied by a recovery crew. I want every sailor aboard identified and if possible have their remains retrieved. Their families deserve some closure, even if its been nearly thirty years. We'll notify them discreetly. Prepare a cover story."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Pressing a button on the tablet in her hand, the screen switched its perspective, a series of beaten, white letters accompanied by a nearly unreadable hull code appearing as one of the several cameras focused on that section of the hull was given the spotlight. For all its firepower, armor and speed, one couldn't forget the psychological effect this particular vessel had had on the crews of the flotillas it had attacked during the war. The letters 'BC-313 IFSS New Dawn' had struck terror into the hearts of dozens of supply convoys, frigate wolfpacks and troop transports right until a designated strike force had eventually been tasked with hunting the experimental battlecruiser across the Fringe, sadly catching up to it just one jump shy of safety, dealing a crippling blow to its hull integrity right before a mass relay had flung it into what the HSA had considered uncharted space back then. Everyone had believed the New Dawn to be destroyed, a reasonable assumption she and the rest of the IFSDF had shared right until the end of the war. Normally ships of its size that suffered this kind of damage before traveling through a relay were torn apart upon exiting the network but apparently the unique battlecruiser had been even sturdier than they had originally believed possible.

Maybe the senate shouldn't have abandoned the project 'due to its expenses outweighing its uses', a couple dozen more New Dawns may very well could've turned the tide of the war more than the ten regular cruisers they could've constructed for the cost of one New Dawn-Class. Quantity had never been an option for the IFSDF's navy, sadly the senate had failed to see that. A combination of fewer orbital docks than the HSA and a lack of large shipyards had dictated exactly what kind of vessels they could field and how many of those they could construct in a certain period of time. As such their navy had never enjoyed something akin to numerical superiority, having to rely on the moment of surprise, good aim and a high rate of fire to stand a chance at winning. Over time those factors had become the pillars of their doctrine, rapid engagements followed by a quick withdraw being the tactic she herself had first used during what the HSA had called the 'Dark Thursday'. Of course even if they aimed well, demanding a high rate of fire of her crews still meant that not every round they fired could hit its mark, an experience she had made during that day as well. Shaking her head to clear the image of Bekenstein's blazing surface from her mind, she returned her focus on the New Dawn. While it wouldn't topple the HSA, for all its advanced features it was still a cruiser that had been gutted by a single dreadnought shot, it could still gie them an edge. If the worrying rumors the Shadow Broker had informed her about were true, she'd be able to use the battlecruiser to fix some of the damage Kamarov had done to their reputation later down the line.

"When will she be ready?" she asked as she turned towards the officer next to her.

"Impossible to say exactly, Ma'am. The damage may either be a lot worse or a lot less severe than it actually looks. I can only give you a rough estimation when the breach has been sealed and power is restored."

"Understood. Inform me the moment you have that estimation."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Throwing a final look at the New Dawn, she stepped of the bridge of the aged cruiser they had commandeered thirty years ago. There was still something else she had to take care of, for now she'd leave the New Dawn in the hands of her capable subordinates.

* * *

 _Codex: The Fringe Wars 2379 AD_

 _Following the return of IFS naval forces after the Dark Thursday of 2378, newly constructed and commandeered vessels alike now forming the IFSDF Navy, the deciding factor that had allowed the HSA its early victories against the IFSDF, orbital supremacy, had been removed from the equation as a certainty. While HSA forces continued their push through the Fringe Systems, the ancient issue of supplying a large military in enemy territory once more became relevant. As it became evident that the few Fringe planets that remained loyal to the HSA wouldn't be sufficient, convoys transporting supplies, troops and ammunition started their journeys from the rest of human space, soon encountering IFS raiders that sought to starve out HSA forces fighting in the region. At first consisting of frigates and cruisers that could easily be fended of by a larger escort force, the spring of 2379 AD saw a new vessel join the ranks of IFS raiding flotillas._

 _Christened as 'BC-313 New Dawn', an experimental battlecruiser prototype, a weight class previously going overlooked in favour of dreadnoughts, carriers and cruisers, left Shanxi's shipyard on the 3. March 2379 AD, quickly proving itself as the single most dangerous ship any HSA convoy could face. While a dreadnought would've been more than a match for the New Dawn, every human capital ship that could've put an end to the battlecruiser was tied down with the continued ground assaults on the separatist strongholds around Horizon and Shanxi, effectively allowing the ship to carve its way through the supply lines of the HSA nearly unchecked. Claiming thousands of sailors and dozens of frigates, cruisers and transports as its prey, the New Dawn soon received the nickname of 'Red Dread of the Fringe', becoming yet another piece in the psychological part of the war as the IFS employed false reports of its presence to guide HSA convoys into prepared ambushes._

 _However in spite of the strain on their supplies, the autumn of 2379 AD saw the armed forces of the HSA set their eyes on the first captial world of the IFS, Horizon. Founded before the dawn of the HSA, Horizon, while not the formal capital of the Independent Fringe Systems, remained its most populated planet, with nearly two billion humans calling it their home. Holding a large portion of the IFS' shipyards, factories, mines and military infrastructure, it was deemed that the fall of Horizon would break the back of the separatists, allowing the much larger HSA to simply overwhelm their foes through sheer numbers._

 _Scheduled as an invasion involving several million soldiers, five fleets, tens of thousands of tanks, gunships, shuttles, transports and nearly fifty percent of active Paladins, the time frame set for Horizon's fall was set to be three months. Beginning in October, the HSA's initial estimation of IFS forces present on the planet and their hold within the local population turned out to be utterly wrong. Instead of breaking the back of the separatists in one rapid assault, the HSA found a sizeable parts of its forces bogged down in an urban theatre, encountering stiff, organized resistance at every corner. Fighting not only mechanized IFS forces with acess to their own Paladins, but also swiftly trained militias consisting of the planet's population. The marine forces that were supposed to establish a beachhead within the first week of fighting had suffered well over sixty thousand casualties within that timeframe, finally receiving support in form of orbital bombardment targeting the enemy positions around them._

 _This engagement would set the tone for the next two years of warfare on Horizon, each fight growing more brutal than the last an eventually turning into the single most devastating site of the Fringe Siege of Horizon would last well into 2381 AD, eventually claiming nearly ninety million lives._

 _By December of 2379 AD the IFS and HSA began trading blows on the surface of multiple worlds across the region, each side suffering a crushing defeat for each victory they managed to achieved._

* * *

 **A/N: And just like that we're off to the second half of Season 2.**

 **This took me longer than expected because I wanted the first actual POV scene of Shepard to be worth the wait. I know for a Mass Effect story that will eventually have her as the protagonist, she's been strangely absent up to now but that's mostly because I didn't want to force it into the story. I wanted to introduce her in a way that I could look back on and say that it already showed what kind of person she'll be. Furthermore I chose her training to be that time because I feel like its easier to relate to a character's abilities if we see where they started out. Considering the things Shepard does over the course of the games, I felt like showing her to actually work on becoming the person she'll be later down the line was the best way to do that.**

 **Also since this is the first 'episode' of the next story arc, which will end literally where ME 1 starts, the tone of the overall chapter is going to be the one that's going to be the tone present throughout the entire arc. You may have noticed that Saren and the three backgrounds appeared in this, that's because those four will be the focus for this storyline. Each background will of course get his 'defining mission' chapters, you know, lone survivor, ruthless and warhero and Saren himself will once more regain the focus he had during several earlier chapters already because Mass Effect 1, in my mind at least, is still as much his story as it was Shepard's.**

 **Now to the chapter itself, or rather the codex and the end of the chapter. I don't know how many of you read the codexes at all, but any observant reader will realise that some things Drescher said are basically either a different version of past events or an outright contradiction, which leads me to a theme I've been hinting at left and right but never outright stated. The Codex is the officialy recognized version of the story but not necessarily the truthful account of all events. I know some might not like the IFS as much as the Reapers and yet others feel like I've been pushing the fringe wars on a bit of a backseat considering how impactful they actually were according to my own lore but that's mostly because up to now, we've only ever had ONE horrible example of an individual that actually was part of the IFS, Kamarov. With Drescher, that's not the case. She's not a crazy terrorist and she's not just another IFS grunt with good intentions. She's an actual leader of the IFS. That's as good of a point of view as they're going to get.**

 **I've said it before but I'll repeat it again, on the record. The IFS is not necessarily the generic bad guy terrorist insurgency serving as fodder for the characters, they're a very much justified separatist movement that simply lost its war for independence before the story kicked off. Everyone's a hero in their own story, that's a good way to describe Semper Vigilo's overall tone, and that tone is going to apply to the IFS throughout the rest of this fanfic. For those who're still sketpical of this entire Drescher thing, you know who you are, just trust me, alright? This is not Kamarov 2.0 and it won't be. Kamarov had his purpose, Drescher will have hers.**

 **God, long A/Ns are really a habit I need to kill.**

 **Review and tell me what you think about the chapter.**

 **For the record we're at 280 reviews, 477 favorites and 585 follows. Now I'd love to crack 600 follows with this chapter but I don't think that's gonna happen.**

 **See you around next time.**


	35. Plan Dravoksha

**Chapter 35. Plan Dravoksha**

* * *

 **19\. October 2407 AD, Arcturus Station**

"Very worrying indeed, Director," she spoke as she folded her hands on the wooden desk in front of her after putting down the report on the most recent series of incidents within the Skyllian Verge. Batarian incursions on secluded human systems, slaver raids seemingly acting as probing attacks, large fleet movements within the outer territories of the Hegemony and of course the complete lack of any communication about it from the batarian government were all signs that something bad was going on.

"Worrying isn't the word I'd use, Ma'am," Jack Harper replied, his unnaturally blue eyes, experimental prosthetics according to himself, narrowing in response. She knew that he was here for more than just reporting on the latest developments.

"What do you propose that we should do about it then?" she asked, her intention less that of actually learning the plan he had most likely prepared some time ago and more along the lines of getting some indication of his standing on the matter. The more experienced members of her government expected a preemptive strike against anything that could remotely pose a threat, projecting their memory of the previous chancellor onto her, a projection she didn't want to live up to. While she had no personal problem with the man, respecting the fact that he had gotten them through the worst times humanity had experienced in centuries, the fact remained that Noé had been too 'trigger happy' for his own good. The aggressive tendencies he had already displayed during his military career had resulted in a rather offensive foreign policy. Unlike herself, the man had never shied away from using the military as one of his first options when faced with situations like this, a habit that involuntarily had caused the unprecedented slaver problem they were currently experiencing.

"For now we need to figure out just what they're up to," the man began as he straightened in his chair. "The batarians have played us in the past, we can't let that happen again. My recommendation is that you order us to launch an independent operation in the region, give us some time to gather intel. We're currently operating under the HSAIS but we could do so much more on our own. Parts of this operation are being prepared in the Terminus, that's a region Cerberus is familiar with. We could get started within the week."

She let out a small sigh as she considered the man's words. She had her reasons for putting Noé's attack dogs onto something akin to a leash for now. With humanity working towards a seat on the council, Cerberus could ill afford to be discovered, an event they had gotten far too close to in the past, when their opponents had been pirates and slavers, not the Batarian Hegemony itself. While she didn't doubt that the other members of the Citadel Council had their own secretive black-ops divisions, the fact remained that none of them officially existed. Sure, the turians would probably be willing to look over it, Cerberus had done them a favour some time ago, and the salarian would consider Cerberus as nothing but yet another unit operating outside of the code of law. The real problem were the asari. While their councilor and some of their republics were very much trying their best to mend the wounds Tevos had created, a lot of the more influential people within their society would use Cerberus as a welcome leverage against them. All kinds of allegations could be made about Harper's subordinates, it would shatter humanity's trustworthyness for years to come. They could make Cerberus responsible for events that had played out only in the HSA's favour and in turn render all of the good will it had gathered over the years in vain.

But none of that changed the reality of Cerberus working better outside of the confines of the HSA, that had been the entire reason it had been founded to begin with. Could she really afford keeping one of their best sources of foreign intelligence out of the equation if the batarians were gearing up for what could very well be an act of war? Could she risk tens of millions of lives for the sake of maintaining a good reputation and the hopes of more diplomatic influence? The answer to those questions was rather obvious and besides, if the talks she had with Noé before formally taking up the office were any indication, 'acting on his own initiative' was not exactly something Harper shied away from when he deemed it necessary. Not only would she hate to dismiss him for insubordination, he was undeniably useful for situations such as this one, but the chance of him doing something rash were also far higher if he was acting on his own. The best course of action for both of them was to give him a formal mandate that would keep him from once more going on his own way.

"Alright, Director Harper," she started as the man kept looking at her. "I'm giving you the permission to separate yourself from the HSAIS for the time being. Find out what the batarians are doing and keep me updated on all developments."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And if there's even the slightest possibility that this is even bigger than we think it is, do everything in your power to delay it. If they're preparing for war, we don't just need to know it, we need time to shore up our own defenses."

"You can rely on Cerberus," the man nodded before getting up. "If there's nothing else, I best get started immediately."

"Of course, you're dismissed, Director Harper."

Without another word, he left the room, only throwing back a short look as he closed the door. Allowing herself no pause, she decided to summon the heads of all service branches. She needed them to make some preparations or more accurately, she needed them to find a way to move more troops into the Verge without letting the batarians know that they knew what was going on. While she'd exhaust every other option before resorting to armed conflict, nothing stood in the way of tipping the odds in their favour. The batarians weren't the only ones who could put up a decent ruse.

* * *

 **13\. March 2408 AD, Cronos Station**

"Come on, batarian, start talking," the voice crackled through the recording as he dipped his cigarette into the ashtray, the faint, dampened glow of the star behind him causing some of the larger smoke particles to glisten as they spread through the air. Returning the end of the cigarette to his lips, the wet sound of a fist impacting with the alien's face doing little to lift his mood, he pulled in another breath of smoke.

"Arrogant vermin," a deep, distinctively batarian baritone simply returned through pain-induced grunts, his beaten and bloody face still defiant even when a white gauntlet cracked across his temple hared enough to knock most people out. But in spite of its force and presumably because of the slightly denser bones batarians possessed, the batarian simply spit out some dark-red blood before bursting out into a chuckle. "Is this the best you can do, human? I had worse in basic training. You'll have to try harder," the alien declared as his needlelike teeth presented themselves in a smile only for some of them to fly through the air not moments later when the fist of the operative smashed into the side of his face once more.

"The stupid bastard won't talk, Sir," another human voice from beyond the helmet camera replied, causing the Cerberus operative to cease his beating for a few moments while turning towards the figure in a heavy set of white armor as it stared out of the window of the prefab building they were occupying, the dirt brown wasteland outside making it impossible to tell just where the scene was taking place. "Let's just off him before his buddies come looking for him."

"Negative, we've got to get this information," the first voice countered, slowly cracking his knuckles before looking at the dark-red stains coating their armored surface. "I can do this all day," he reassured the alien, his brownish features clearly betraying the pain he was feeling. When his captive gave no reply, the man that had made the recording fulfilled his promise, throwing another heavy punch at the batarian.

Harper had to give the officer and by extension the Hegemony's External Forces credit, they might not have been as disciplined as turians or as adaptable as human soldiers but they more than made up for it by being fiercely demoted to the Hegemony they were sworn to serve. Out of all the high-ranking officers Cerberus had gotten its hands on in the last few months, not a single one had disclosed just what they were doing in the Skyllian Verge. The HSA had taken down several hidden outposts throughout the area, captured three batarian vessels and cracked down on a large slaver fortress of previously unseen proportions yet they were nowhere close to an answer. Their people simply refused to talk and the few data fragments human forces had managed to save before their previous owners could delete them had been mostly inconclusive.

Except for one thing.

"What's Plan Dravoksha?" the Cerberus operative inquired after stopping his beating when he realised how close to passing out the batarian was. He grabbed the alien's chin to keep his head upright and stared down the four dark eyes looking back at him.

"You'll find out soon enough," the alien simply replied before the human once more continued his improvised interrogation.

'Plan Dravoksha', those two words had kept HSAIS, Cerberus and the entirety of high ranking military officials on edge for the last few months. It was the only reference point that had occurred in all intel fragments they had retrieved and besides its origin, Dravoksha being one of the ghostly presence that supposedly looked over the batarian people as they followed their path to greatness, they had no idea what it was. But even if they lacked knowledge of the most basic details of this plan,just about everyone that held some sort of say in the government, especially Chancellor Goyle, had been convinced that Dravoksha was a very real and very imminent danger the moment they had heard about it, an assumption he by now agreed with. While he and others had voiced their concerns over the situation mirroring the events following the attack on Mindoir, suspecting that Dravoksha might be an elaborate deception created to hide another batarian operation, the recent events had made it clear that the chance of it being just another ruse was unlikely.

The batarians had been preparing for something big for some time now and right now Plan Dravoksha was believed to be that something. While Goyle had increased the military presence in the Skyllian Verge under the guise of a combined exercise of all service branches, sending three marine expeditionary forces to Elysium, Camelot and Mindoir, Cerberus had been searching the region of the Terminus that bordered human space far and wide. Relying on their anonymity to get the drop on unsuspected batarian forces as they prepared for upcoming operations in the presumed safety of the Terminus Systems, his teams carried out dozens of strikes every month. But instead of finding answers, the raids had only succeeded in causing Cerberus to slowly lose one of its biggest advantages. As far as the majority of the galaxy was concerned, they didn't exist, a fact that gave them a lot of room to work with. Unlike the HSA's other various organisations, Cerberus could shift things into humanity's favour without causing the races of the galaxy to start asking questions. They appeared out of nowhere, completed their assignment and vanished with no factual traces of their existence ever surfacing, guaranteeing that no one could be warned about their future activities.

Or at least that's how it used to be.

Ever since they had started working against the batarian forces operating close or even within humanity's territory, someone else had begun working against them as well. It had started subtle enough, his strike teams either found slightly more resistance than expected or missed the target of their operation by mere minutes. Mere coincidental circumstances that would be mentioned in the report before going on the next mission being named as the cause of these complications. Only when encountering slightly more resistance had turned into finding prepared ambushes instead of their targets had it become obvious that something beyond coincidence was at work, while they were hunting the batarians, someone else was hunting them. After that particular realisation had hit Harper and his command staff, it hadn't taken them long to find out just who the Hegemony had unleashed on them.

Looking at the screen he saw the Cerberus operative peak up from his prisoner, going for his gun just a second before the wall opposite to him exploded in fiery spectacle, swallowing him, his team and the batarian captive in a cloud of debris, smoke and shrapnel. As the rifle in his hand began to fire into the greenish mist that was now flooding the room, a squad of red-eyed figures appeared from the hole in the wall, gunfire from several of their own mass accelerators punching through the shields of the human operative, relentlessly marching towards him even when several of their own were cut down by the humans inside. Accompanied by a painful scream, a red mist exploded in front of the camera. The man collapsed to the ground and reached for the pistol on his hip, the adrenaline running through him temporarily keeping the pain from getting the better of him. As the operative looked up ever so slightly, a batarian clad in an olive green suit of armor stepped into view, four distinctivly red lights glowing behind the eyes of his helmet. Harper could see the human lift his backup gun ever so slightly only for four more gunshots to echo through the room as the batarian unloaded his gun on the operative, the rounds impacting with the chest of the operative and causing him to drop his pistol. As the head of the now deceased operative hit the floor, the camera simply kept recording the ceiling under which he had died, the red-eyed figure staring down at the corpse in a rather unimpressed fashion.

His general appearance seemed distinctively familiar yet Harper couldn't shake the feeling that something about him different. For all intents and purposes, the figure was definitely a batarian soldier but at the same time his stature was all wrong. Compared to other members of his race, for example the captive that had until recently been the center of the recording, this batarian was slender, lacking the broad shoulders and pronounced chest muscles commonly seen among batarian military personal. Adding to that he seemed to be noticeably smaller than the Cerberus operative. While the average human was slightly taller than most members the four-eyed race, the perspective of the camera let Harper to believe that the olive green figure, only now towering above the killed operative, was at least a head shorter than him. Both the human and the batarian wore combat armor and even though the hardsuit used by Cerberus strike teams was bulkier than the light version this batarian donned, it couldn't make such a big difference.

So this was the famed batarian Special Intervention Unit. He could see why the Council considered them to be the most dangerous weapon the Hegemony had ever produced. Soldiers with the skill to sneak up on his strike teams were rare. In Cerberus' entire existence, they hadn't suffered as many casualties as the SIU had managed to inflict during the last two months. This was turning into a fight of attrition his organisation could ill afford. While more numerous than Section 13 or ASOC, Cerberus was still in no shape to simply go blow for blow with the batarian unit. He didn't know how big the SIU was but if their lack of concern over simply marching through gunfire was any indication, it was safe to assume that their ranks were bigger than originally suspected.

This was both Interesting and troublesome at the same time. A theory he'd follow up on later was starting to form in his head. For now he decided to keep observing.

"The captive is dead," a voice, deep even by batarian standards, noted as the one in view turned his attention towards the broken helmet, kneeling down to take a longer look at it. As the four red eyes, presumably the product of some kind of optical device, looked directly into the camera, Harper could pinpoint the exact moment that the SIU soldier realised that something was off. Wasting no time, the figure got up from his kneeling position and lifted his foot over it while giving his reply to the other alien in the room.

"Acceptable losses."

The audio and video recording stopped right before the batarian's boot crashed down on the camera, a frozen high resolution picture of a blood-stained shoe sole now occupying the screen of the tablet in Harper's hands. He turned off the device and placed it on the small desk to his right, pulling in another long, deep breath of nicotine before he extinquished the cigarette in his hand by snuffing out its burning tip.

"This is everything there is, Commander Holderman?" he asked the brown-haired man standing behind him, his white uniform only decorated with a yellow hexagon, some black highlights and the rank insignias that indicated his position as Cerberus leading field operative.

"Yes, Sir," the man replied as Harper spun around in his chair to face him. "That's everything we recovered."

"Did you manage to retrieve the other bodies as well?" the director asked as he rubbed his brow. This recording had marked the fifth instance of an entire strike team being killed in action. This couldn't go on for much longer, he couldn't allow the SIU to simply tear Cerberus apart squad by squad, at the rate they were currently going, soon there wouldn't be much more combat operatives left, something that would have devastating ramifications for the organisation. No combat operatives meant no field operations and no field operations meant no people capable of pushing the pieces into the HSA's favour, effectively making Cerberus incapable of fulfilling the overarching directive Chancellor Noé had given to him all those years ago. Furthermore every strike team Cerberus lost were more people that died on his watch. He wouldn't allow this to continue.

"Another team secured the location and all of our casualties were recovered."

"And the batarian fatalities?" he said as he eyed the glass of liquor on the small desk.

"Gone," the man said as he stared at the star behind Harper, his eyes squinting ever so slightly before they adjusted to the brightness. "Only left behind the dead captive."

"Did they take anything off of our casualties?" the director went on.

"Not that we can tell, Sir," the commander shook his head in return, folding his arms behind his back. "All of their gear is accounted for and if they tried to retrieve any sort of data from the corpses, they did so without triggering any of the fail saves."

"Just like before then," he muttered as he placed his hand under his chin, his gaze focused on the black panels that acted as both the floor and the hologram projector of his office. Why wouldn't the batarians try to figure out more about them? His own operatives always retrieved every little shred of evidence they could get their hands on, destroying everything else to avoid leaving behind something of value to the enemy. Why didn't the SIU do this? Were they sending him on another wild goose chase by raising these questions or were they trying to distract Cerberus from something else? Was this just another part of yet another ruse humanity was falling for?

He shook his head ever so slightly as his mind kept racing. While it was already unlikely that the batarians would invest as much as they had already lost in just a long-term deception, it was downright illogical for them to throw the SIU into the mix as well. From what he could tell, the only times the unit deployed outside of their own space were when the Hegemony needed them to solve an issue that no one else could take care of. Whether it was the retrieval of critical information on board of a krogan cruiser or the assassination of information leaks regarding the true extend of the batarian involvement in the attack on Mindoir, the SIU was only used when there was no other option for the Batarian Hegemony. They were the unit that was only called when something incredibly crucial needed to be done. If their aim was to simply distract their opposition from something else, they could throw more expendable troops at them. There was no reason for the Hegemony to use the SIU as a decoy.

As such the chance of this being just another part of an as of yet unknown ruse wasn't just slim, logic dictated that it had to be nonexistent. What little information they had about the SIU confirmed that they were the only unit the batarian military didn't consider universally replaceable. The only justified reason for deploying their best operatives against Cerberus was that his people were getting far too close to finding out the truth for the Hegemony's liking.

He sat up back in his chair as the commander kept looking at him, probably waiting to be dismissed. Reaching for another cigarette, he took the small lighter of the table and ignited it, allowing the orange flame to slowly consume the tip of the paper stick. Puffing out the first cloud of smoke, he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, eying the ceiling. As the smoke glistened in the light of the star, the frown on his face disappeared, a stoic expression replacing it once his mind gave its final ruling.

This in turn meant that Plan Dravoksha was the real deal and presumably imminent.

Somehow he liked that scenario even less than being made a fool of. He didn't look forward to finding out just what had caused the batarian's to go to such lengths.

* * *

 **04:15 Local time,** **28\. April 2408 AD, Elysium**

The first indication that something was out of place was when instead of being woken by her omni-tool's alarm clock, a heavy door being torn open on the hall outside caused her to sit upright in her bed.

Something was going on.

Lieutenant Emily Shepard, like the rest of the 6th HSAMC Expeditoniary Force, had been on Elysium for the last three months for the sake of training defensive tactics alongside their army comrades, running simulated ground engagements against one another while the naval fleet that acted as the 6th's transport had been included in ongoing operations within the Verge, patrolling the region and shoring up the numbers of the other fleets currently defending both human and independent colonies in the region. As a platoon leader on the ground, she was let in on the schedule of all upcoming training scenarios, including simulated alarms.

This was not part of their schedule.

Knowing what would happen at any moment, her training overruled her confusion and she immediately began the process of putting on her uniform, probably beating all of her previous records as the realisation that what was about to happen would not be drill kicked in. Just as she closed the blouse of her combat fatigues, a sound that was equally familiar and dreaded among all military personal echoed through the building and probably the rest of the military base. As the sirens blared through her ears, she opened the door of her room and marched over to the room opposite to her, grabbing a hold of the first senior member she could find just as the man was climbing out of his bunk.

"Find Staff Sergeant Gregory and tell him to get everyone into gear right now. I don't know what's going on but I want the platoon ready for anything," she ordered as the barely clothed man nodded exactly once before shooting off into the opposite direction. Putting her faith into the corporal as he practically burst through the NCO's door, she began her own run towards the ground floor, intending to confront the officer responsible for sounding the alarm and figuring out just what was going on. As she rushed down the stairs she heard the barking voice of the platoon sergeant behind her relaying her orders. She cleared the first flight of stairs but before she could take another step closer to the ground floor, the officer in charge of her company, Captain Andrew Kendrick, shot up from the level below them.

"Lieutenant Shepard, I need your platoon outside right now," the man instructed before she could even think about saluting him. The officer was already trying to make his way past her in the middle of his sentence when he stopped a second time. "Be ready for an airlift in ten," he added before climbing up further.

"What's going on, Sir?" she called after him as he rushed towards the third and final floor of their building.

"Elysium Command just declared Saber-Two. The navy's already engaged," it echoed through the halls of the building as the figure in black and grey combat fatigues disappeared in the bent of the stairway. Turning on her heel immediately, Emily made her way to the armory, finding most of her marines in various stages of putting on their hardsuits, the familiar face of her already armored platoon sergeant waiting for her in the doorway.

Threat Condition Saber-Two, while not as bad as Saber-One, meant that an enemy force had cleared the local relay and engaged whatever naval assets the HSA currently had in place above the planet. This being Elysium, the main base of operations for all fleets active in the Fringe and Verge, it meant that whatever force was trying to land on Elysium was big enough to either ignore, or worse, resist the sustained firepower of dozens of HSA frigates, cruisers and capital ships.

This was beyond bad.

"What's the word, Ma'am?" he asked as she opened her locker to start putting on her own armor, beginning a scenario she had calmly completed a hundred times before with a sense of anxiety.

"Saber-Two," she replied grimly, refusing to spent too much time with thinking about the fact that her first taste of combat would be an enemy force attempting to invade Elysium. Occupying her mind with rapidly putting on the pieces of the modular hardsuit issued to all combat personal, time began to blur together as she went over the almost mechanical process of checking her equipment, watching herself receive her SR-8 and slapping a magazine into it before running towards the spot assigned to her platoon. It seemed almost unreal that this was finally it. Every moment of her training had let up to this day. She had spent hours upon hours thinking about the worst case scenario under which this could happen, trying to plan for the first time she'd have to use everything she had learned. But now that the day was actually here, she not only realised that none of that mattered now, she also found herself trying not to think much at all.

"All present or accounted for, Lieutenant," Staff Sergeant Gregory reported as she came to a halt in front of her unit, the whining of Kodiak engines already coming up behind her as she dismissed the NCO.

"Post, Staff Sergeant," she replied before the man stepped into the formation, waiting for him to take his position. "Third platoon, at ease," she began, trying to find some encouraging words not just for her own marines but also for herself. "We've all trained for this day and we all knew it'd come eventually," the young lieutenant froze for a moment as an impossibly loud detonation tore through the dark sky above them and caused the assembled platoon to flinch in its entirety. Almost instantaneously a white flash even brighter than the sun gave the illusion of daylight for exactly a second, revealing the dark green silhouette of a frigate hovering in the sky above them, a cloud of black smoke opposite to its nose. So this was what a frigate blowing up the reactor of another ship sounded like in the atmosphere of a planet. As far as her ears were concerned, she could've lived without that experience. Thankful for the fact that the helmet on her head had most likely prevent her from going deaf, she went on.

"Once we get on those Kodiaks, its the moment of truth for all of us. We've all ran the simulations and we all know the drill for Saber-Two. We'll get onboard and act as a mobile reserve. I don't know where we're going, we'll recieve our orders as they come in, but what I know is that whoever is attacking us picked the wrong planet to invade," another thunderous sound caused her to pause yet again but otherwise failed to recreate its previous result, catching neither her nor her platoon off guard. "Let's make them regret it. Staff Sergeant Gregory, front and center."

"Yes, Ma'am!" The platoon sergeant stepped forward again, and offered a respectful nod towards her before turning to the rest of her unit, realising that they needed to hear something from him as well. After all in the event of her death, something she really didn't want to think about right now, it would be up to him to lead the unit. "Listen up marines, that right there," he called as he pointed at the frigate hanging in the sky, "is the navy trying to steal the corps' thunder. I'm not gonna sit here and let the fucking squids pull this fight from under my nose. Its time to earn our pay for a change. I say we teach those bastards once and for all why you don't mess with us."

"Third platoon, report to your squad leaders and fall out to the Kodiaks," Shepard ordered as the doors to craft closest to her opened, a crew member waving her over. "Double time."

"Oorah!" it echoed back audible in spite of the Kodiaks landing behind her.

Normally the sight of forty heavily armed marines charging past her would cause a familiar sense of security to make itself known but as time seemed to slow down, her eyes darting towards the nametags of the men and women passing her, she felt a somber realisation hit her. Not all of them would make it back. Shaking her head as more marines passed her, Shepard once more felt herself slip into the routine installed in her during training, allowing the soldier in her to take over for the time being. She climbed into the Kodiak closest to her and grabbed a hold of the rails running along the canopy of the shuttle, waiting for the final member of the squad that would follow her to board the craft. When the marine pulled himself inside, she gave a nod to the crewman, went to her own harness, strapped herself in and not a moment later, after the pilot had felt his shoulder being tapped, the doors of the green shuttle closed and the screens acting as its de facto windows turned on, allowing her to see the several Kodiaks flying next to her own shuttle, a gunship escort joining them the moment they left the base behind them. As a blue light illuminated the interior of the crew compartment, Shepard turned her attention from the green shuttles outside to the screen attached in front of the pilot's cabin.

"Alright Fox Company here's what we know so far," the voice of their company leader rang through the cabin as a Kendrick appeared on the screen, beginning a very informal briefing."Twenty three minutes ago eighty six unidentified vessels broke through the Vetus Relay, ignoring all hails and engaging our naval assets the moment they were in range. On any other day the 8th Fleet would've been right behind them but as things are, their big guns are currently out of position. It'll take them at least four days to get here."

"Well, where the hell are they?" the voice of fourth platoon's leader injected, causing Kendrick to pause for a moment.

"The Shasta and her escorts were conducting a training exercise of their own," their superior officer replied as Shepard's own Kodiak took a rather sudden dive, causing her to look at the crewmam sitting opposite to her.

"We've got to get closer to the ground, otherwise our own flak tears us apart," the man shrugged as he noticed the marine looking at him. Satisfied with the reply and the knowledge that they were not crashing right now, she turned back to the screen.

"As things are our best shot is CBG Hawking, command is saying they'll be here by tomorrow. They're hitting the first relay as we're speaking."

"Who's attacking us, Sir?" Shepard finally spoke up the question that had been lingering on everyone's mind.

"Officially, Lieutenant Shepard, they're a bunch of slavers."

"And inofficially, Sir?" another platoon leader countered as the officer sighed, a quick look to her left allowing Shepard to see just how much closer they were to the ground. At this rate, a sneeze of the pilot would kill them faster than their own anti-air. One mistake and they'd make a decently sized hole in the ground.

"The Hegemony. The HSASV Paris gutted a state-of-the-art batarian cruiser on its way through the relay. There's no way they're handing out that kind of gear to slavers without being there themselve-" as the captain simply stopped both speaking and moving for a moment, Shepard though that the screen had frozen or worse the shuttle he had been on crashed. Only when he nodded his head, did the thought that he himself had received a transmission occur to her. "Ok, Foxtrot, our orders are here. Elysium Command just declared Saber-One, we're being diverted to the Northern Territory," the man paused his briefing, apparently trying to find the best way to phrase the rest of what he had just been told. "Also I just got conformation that this is not a localized incursion either. Several other planets are under attack as well."

"So we're at war with the Hegemony then? Great," the same platoon leader reasoned as a hard-right turn caused Shepard and by the looks of it everyone in the formation to get pressed in their harnesses. So much for inertial dampeners. "What's our job in the NT?"

"Enemy forces landed in a desolate valley beyond the Sullivan Mountains and they're trying to push through a tunnel the colonial administrating dug for ground transport back when the area was still being mined. The NT's anti-air positions can't hit anything going down beyond the mountains and only a small army unit is stationed in the region. Command needs us to hunker down in front of the tunnel's southern entrance and make sure nothing gets through. If those forces take out the SAM-sites in the NT they'll have air superiority and a fantastic staging ground for the rest of the invasion. The army can't spare the people to hold them back on their own and won't have the numbers needed to push the landing zone for some time. Therefore we'll have to assist whatever forces they mustered in keeping the batarian's north of that mountain range for as long as needed."

"Two minutes," the pilot called from his cabin as Shepard felt her heart beat increase. A tunnel was a good thing, the enemy would be forced to fight from a bottleneck. While the valley was a decent landing zone, its large plains and lack of HSA forces speaking for itself, they could break the back of their operation if they prevented them from actually leaving it. Even if they failed to gather enough numbers to assault their staging ground, they could simply wait it out and bomb them into submission once the navy regained orbital supremacy. Of course depending on what kind of force had landed beyond the mountains, keeping them contained could either be rather easy or nearly impossible.

"One minute," another surge of adrenaline rocked her world as the screen on her right allowed her a rather good look of an engagement in the distance, dozens of fires blazing on the outskirts of a town, illuminated the otherwise dark night. Given the explosions sporadically dotting the sky above the cityscape, Shepard came to the conclusion that she was witnessing the results of an air engagement between HSA interceptors and whatever air support the batarians had brought with them. As a visible fireball came crashing through the clouds and into the city limits, she simply hoped that it had been a batarian craft coming down on an already evacuated part of town and not a Trident cleaving straight through a still inhabited building.

"Thirty seconds, red light, get ready," it sounded from the cabin as the marine lieutenant undid her harness, pulling herself to her feet through the railings above her and catching the first glimpse of the large tunnel up ahead, spotting several fortified positions and the rare IFV on the ground, small, barely visible figures rushing between them and the few civilian trucks still parked on the road, preparing to repel the batarian push. It seemed like the army had done a decent enough job at digging in, sandbags, machine gun emplacements, a mortar battery and improvised trenches on the side of the road covered most of the area and a part of her began to wonder just how many batarians would come pouring through that tunnel if another company was needed to stand a chance at holding a position as prepared as this one. Before she could place further judgment on the situation, the screen turned off and a green light turned on around them. As soon as that happened, the doors shot open and the crewman began to frantically wave them out of the shuttle. Jumping through the now open hull, she wasted no time with standing around, while no one was shooting yet, that could change at any given time. This was after all a combat zone.

"Relaying your positions to you now, Foxtrot," the voice of Captain Kendrick rang through her helmet as the HUD in front of her eyes pinpointed a trench left of the entrance some hundred meters from their current position.

"Alright third platoon, see that trench west of the tunnel? That's our new home," she explained as the data traveled to her squad leaders and her unit began moving. "I want the squad weapons pointed at that entrance the moment we reach it. Watch your spacing and make sure you don't lose sight of the marine next to you, I don't want people dying because of tunnel vision."

The jog to the position was over almost as soon as it had started, all of them hurrying to leave behind the exposed landing zone in favour of the safety of the trench. She ducked through the hastily dug trench and eyed the few army grunts that would share their position with them. Unlike either the batarians or the marines of the 6th Expeditionary Force, these people actually spent some time in this region beforehand, that knowledge could give them an edge in the upcoming fight. As she stepped past an engineer fiddling with a detonator in his hand, she found herself doubling back as she noticed just how many wires were connected to it. This was beyond any kind of safety regulation and he had to know it.

"Corporal, are you trying to blow all of us up?" she asked as the man peaked up from the box in his hands, his eyes filled with focus and his fingers frozen in the the middle of whatever task he had been performing.

"Orders from the Major, Ma'am," the man replied as he nodded towards the stone ridge above the tunnel, a series of figures in green armor standing out against the greyish stone as they used ropes to descend back on the path below. "No one's getting through that mountain. Even if its takes dropping it on our own heads, the batarian's aren't taking NT."

The army didn't seriously consider dropping a mountain on their own position, did they? Taking a quick moment to look at the emblem on the soldier's shoulder in an attempt to figure out what unit he was from, the depiction of a diving black eagle answered that question for her. While she hadn't heard of airborne units being favoured for colonial duty rotations, it was just her luck to get stuck fighting with the one army unit even the marines considered to be somewhat deranged. Throwing another look at the engineer, his hands still locked in the same posture she had interrupted him in, she shook her head before moving along the trench. The stone ridge was certainly big enough to block the tunnel but as she looked at the mountain, she didn't doubt that the explosives would stop at taking only the ridge with them. If her estimation of how much explosives those crazy bastards had stuffed into that ridge were correct, they'd probably blow half the mountain off in the process. But on the bright side, it gave her yet another reason not to let any batarians past them. Being buried alive under tons of mountain debris was not on her list of ways she wanted to die.

"All squads are in position," the platoon sergeant informed her as she steadied herself against the wall of the trench, looking to the marines on each of her side, one of the resting his machine gun's bipod on the earth in front of him and the other trying his best to keep his rifle steady, the shaking of his arms making it a somewhat difficult task.

"Take a deep breath, marine," she spoke while following her own advice not a moment later, the small but still present quivering of her fingers stopping shortly afterwards. She didn't have time to be scared right now. She needed to be focused, her platoon needed her to be. "Eyes on the tunnel."

Watching the final airborne engineer detach his rope from the rig that had allowed him to climb up to the stone ridge, she saw the man throw a single glance into the darkness of the tunnel before breaking into a mad dash towards the closest position, leaping over the sandbags and quite literally falling face first into the dirt before picking himself up again.

"This is Major Ramos of the 26th Airborne Brigade speaking to all forces defending the Sullivan Tunnel. Be advised, the batarians have covered almost half of the distance between the northern and southern entrances. Once their center is in range of all of our positions, we'll turn on the tunnel's lighting and temporarily blind their NVGs. Open fire the moment you see something with more than two eyes. Good luck and godspeed."

As she leveled her rifle at the tunnel's entrance, a deadly silence began to settle in the trench, each and everyone of them listening for the first footstep, the first voice or the first sound of an engine in an attempt to get some sort of warning for when the lights would turn on. She felt the tension that lingered in the air and undid the safety of the SR-8 in her hands, intending to get off as many shots as possible before the enemy could dart to whatever cover was available inside. Shepard kept staring into the tunnel entrance, trying to decide whether or not the things she was seeing were the product of the tension or actually the first batarians slowly marching through the darkness of the structure. When she could make out something that remotely looked like a torso, she moved her sights over it and waited.

Then everything happened incredibly fast.

Within the blink of an eye, the darkness disappeared as the powerful ceiling lamps were activated, dozens of batarian infantrymen freezing on the spot as a sensory overload got the better of them. She felt her finger slip over the trigger guard and after just the right amount of pressure, the first round left the barrel of her SR-8. Time slowed down as the recoil of each shot vibrated through her shoulder and a wall of fire poured down on the exposed invaders from the positions around the tunnel entrance. It was almost surreal for her to see the batarian she had just observed through her scope drop at the hands of herself, his body going limp like a rag doll as it hit the floor in an ungraceful manner, one of his hands still clutching the boxy assault rifle while the other simply fell to the side of his body. Instead of lowering her rifle to think about what she had just done, she trained its scope on a figure leaping towards an emergency exit at the side of the tunnel's interior wall. She sent a steady stream of rounds into his direction, unable to tell whether or not her own rounds had been the ones to claim his life or if another human had been responsible for it and let her training take reign over her actions.

As the batarian forces shook themselves out of their short paralysis, Shepard noticed that the center of their formation was already receiving heavier support, armored vehicles and IFVs acting as a mobile form of cover for the numerically superior infantry forces advancing alongside them. When her rifle clicked empty right as she expected it to, she knelt down in the trench and grabbed another magazine from the pouches on her chest, using the short break to check on the one IFV she could see from her trench, the sound of its maingun firing followed suitly by an explosion that overshadowed the orchestra of gunfire around her. Peaking up from her trench just as the marine next to her went to reload, she saw just what had happened.

The Mako's railgun had torn a sizeable hole into a batarian vehicle, detonating the fuel and ammunition it had stored in the process and setting ablaze a good chunk of the troops around it. Setting her crosshair over a burning batarian desperately clawing at his helmet, she prepared to commit what she considered an act of mercy. Pushing back the sick feeling in her stomach as she observed the batarian fighting a losing fight against the flammable liquid eating through the cracks of his armor, she made sure to be swift and accurate. In one moment the soldier was still trying to remove the helmet that was slowly melting itself into the skin of his face and in the next he simply dropped to the ground, the orange flames on his body burning all the same, unconcerned with how much pain they had inflicted on the batarian, only interest in consuming his remains.

As the shockwave of another explosion, this one much closer to her, tore through the air, she dropped to the ground as dirt rained down on her. Trying to pick herself up, she could make out the disturbing cries of someone close to her, causing her to look to her left only to realise that the one crying was not the one that had been injured. Stumbling around the bend of the trench, a member of her own unit dropped into the arms of another marine who struggled to reach for the medical kit attached to his hip in an attempt to stop the blood pouring from his comrade's arm, falling backwards as he tripped over a small earth slope. She shot to her feet and let go of her rifle, the sling it was attached to allowing it to stay at her side either way before tearing open the small pouch on the soldier's equipment belt and pulling out the syringe of medigel before applying its contents onto the wound as well. Not satisfied with the amount she had already used on the remaining parts of the limb, she reached for another syringe and repeated the process.

"Get him out of here," she instructed the man while tossing the empty container to the ground. The marine hesitated for a moment but after getting a grip of himself, began pulling the injured soldier off the ground, presumably exposing himself for just a second too long in the process. Without being able to do anything whatsoever, Shepard had to pay witness to the seemingly random high-powered round connecting with the head of the marine, obliterating everything above his neck in a single moment, neither his shields nor his armor standing any chance against the projectile. As the red mist splattered onto her visor, she very nearly suffered the same fate as the assault on their position continued, only the mechanical process of taking cover that had been drilled into her head during basic training saving her. As another sniper round drilled into the dirt just above her helmet, she began crawling away from the position, well aware that peaking up would mean death and wondering if the enemy snipers had been there all along, targeting another trench or simply arrived just as she gave the order that had killed the marine.

Feeling the vibration of the Mako's railgun traveling through the ground, the lieutenant heard another explosion rock the tunnel all the while she crawled to through the trench, only taking a knee once she was sure that she had cleared the sniper's killzone. Next to her a marine, another member of her platoon, fired bullet after bullet into the direction of the tunnel, the barrel of his machine gun already glowing orange and the shell casings collecting next to him forming a respectable pile almost reaching her ankles. Shepard pressed herself against the trench, intending to take over for the marine once his ammunition belt ran dry and he had to reload, only for a radio transmission to interrupt her.

"All forces defending the tunnel, be advised, we now have heavy batarian armor closing in on our position. We're in for a lot of trouble if they get here," the voice of the army major explained, the gunfire accompanying it suggesting that he was fighting in one of the positions on the front himself. "To stop them from doing that, an N7 team waiting inside the tunnels was supposed to prepare an ambush for the end of the batarian convoy, using a series of guided anti-tank charges. But instead of doing that, they've gone black and are presumed dead."

"We can't stop heavy armor with Makos, Sir," her company leader called through his own radio, the battle keeping him just as busy as the other officers on site.

"I know that Captain," the major replied as his voice grew darker. "Which is why I'm going to need you to cover me."

"What are yo-, goddamn batarians," her captain cursed as he interrupted himself, his breath growing faster while he regained his composure between a series of grunts, the tone of his voice now making it evident that he was suppressing some kind of pain. "What are you saying, Sir?"

"You heard me, I'll need every gun firing at once to hold the batarians down long enough for me to make it to the maintenance entrance on the west side of the tunnel. If we don't stop those tanks, we have to bring down the tunnel and there's no guarantee that any of us are walking away from that avalanche."

"That's a one way trip, Major Ramos. And more importantly its impossible," another voice she didn't recognize injected, the thick accent hinting at an earthly origin. "At least for you. We can't maintain that kind of continuous suppressive fire long enough for you to run all the way to the western edge of our line. You'd have to leapfrog from trench to trench, otherwise you'd be cut down halfway to the door when we run out of bullets."

"We don't have the time for that. The tanks are already moving through the tunnel."

"I know, Sir," the voice replied while Shepard considered simply returning to the fight while her superiors figured out this mess. "Which is why someone on the western side needs to go."

"I'm not sending someone else on a suicide mission, Captain," the major muttered in return.

"It's our only option."

"I'm faster than I look."

"You still won't make it, Sir."

"I'm closer than Major Ramos," her company leader offered instead.

"You're injured, Captain Kendrick. You're not making it either."

Looking to the right and left of her position, seeing both injured and dead marines lying between their still fighting comrades. They were giving it their all and none of that would matter when those tanks got here. She wouldn't let those deaths be in vain, she couldn't. Emily Shepard inhaled a single time before pushing down the send-button of her radio, making a decision that unknowingly to her would define the course of her life.

"I'll do it, Sir," she said as she interrupted the heated discussion with a surprisingly steady voice, causing all participants to grow silent.

"Who is this, identify yourself."

"Lieutenant Shepard, third platoon, Foxtrot Company, Sir," she stated as clear as she could, while another member of her unit turned to look at her, apparently catching what was going on. "I'm in the trench closest to the entrance and I haven't been hit yet. I can make it there faster than anyone else, Sir."

"Lieutenant, you do realise that the success of this defense is weighing on those charges being detonated, correct?"

"Yes, Sir," she said as she began making her way closer to the entrance, stepping over the marine that had died as direct result of her orders in the process.

"And you do realise what the odds of surviving the way back are, correct?"

"Yes, Sir," she once more repeated as a burst of mass accelerator rounds jumped over the dirt above her head all the while the machine gun of the Mako next to the trench poured bullet after bullet into the tunnel.

"Understood, I'm transferring the last known position of the team to your omni-tool. Get ready for the run of your lifetime, Lieutenant. We're counting on you."

"Yes, Sir."

Rushing to the end of the trench, she didn't even think about how many rounds her shields caught and how many missed her by chance, her eyes instead focused on the small door next to the much larger tunnel entrance. If she had to guess, it was probably either an emergency exit or some sort of maintenance corridor used to keep the electronics of the tunnel in working condition. By the looks of it it was rather narrow, meaning that any kind of fighting on the inside would take place without cover. She'd have to be fast, accurate and most importantly silent. The only real chance she saw of making it to the N7s' last known position was not getting spotted at all, if the batarians in the main tunnel realised what was going on or even suspected that someone was using the smaller paths on their sides to maneuver around them, they'd sent a squad to investigate.

She was pretty sure that she wouldn't be able to handle a squad.

"This is Major Ramos to all forces receiving me, once you see a red flare you empty your guns into the tunnel. We need to keep every batarian inside suppressed until one of our own can reach the maintenance tunnel. You don't stop shooting until I sent up a blue flare," it rang through her helmet as she decided to use the sound of several hundred human guns as her signal instead. After all, running too early would get her killed as well.

Then for the second time that day, everything happened impossibly fast. As she saw the red glow shooting into the sky in the corner of her eye, she grabbed a tight hold of her rifle and when gunfire erupted from all human positions, her feet began to carry her forward faster than they had ever done before. Feeling every beat of her heart, she simply kept her eyes on her target, refusing to slow down even when her chest began to burn from the strain she was putting on her lungs by running this long. Then, just as she felt like her legs would fail her, she reached the door and pulled it open, stepping inside just as the reddish glow of the flare above her was joined by a blue one.

If she was honest with herself, she had already made it further than she had expected.

Bringing up her rifle and her omni-tool, she began to walk as fast and as silent as humanly possible, the sparse lighting of the tunnel making it difficult to tell what was waiting for her up ahead. Taking a look at the map on her wrist, she realised that she was almost at the position the N7s had last been seen in and as such grew more weary. If someone had managed to kill a team of the navy's best soldiers, she'd have to be more than just careful. As if the universe wanted to reinforce that statement, she spotted the dark shape of a human clad in onyx armor, his back propped against the concrete wall of the maintenance corridor, a pool of fresh blood pouring from a hole in his chest and an emptied SIS-8 next to his corpse.

Normally the sight of a dead N7 was a good indication that one should go the opposite direction but that was hardly an option for her now. As the major had said, they all counted on her. She refused to subject her comrades to the fate the batarian armor would give them if she could do something about it. She stepped over the corpse, spotting another onyx figure further down the corridor, the map indicating that she'd have to move up just a little bit further. She pushed on but after only a few steps, something grabbed her arm, causing her to spin right, expecting to find a batarian gun pointed at her face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," a distinctively human voice growled as a fourth figure in N7 armor pulled her into the corridor. "Do you want to die?" he demanded to know as he pressed her against the wall, pulling back the knife at her throat she hadn't even noticed up to now.

"Looking for you," she replied in a whisper that was technically far too loud to even be considered one. "You went dark, I was sent to check up on your team. Why didn't you answer?" Instead of giving an answer, the N7 let go of her and simply handed her his damaged radio before tapping on his helmet, indicating why they had gone dark. As he pressed himself against the wall of the small corner he had taken shelter behind, the light of a ceiling lamp allowed her to noticed just how bloody his shoulder actually was, at this point it was probably only the medigel and stubbornness that kept him standing. "The batarian tanks are coming and we can't hold them. Those AT-charges need to explode right now," she countered as the other soldier turned back to her, presumably staring at her through his darkened visor. Yet he didn't move a single muscle to activate the charges. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"I don't have the detonator," he frowned before peaking around the corner, Shepard herself still unsure just what he was looking for. "It's with my squad leader."

"Well we need to find him, he needs to blow the charges. Those tanks need to be stopped before they reach the line."

"He was killed thirty minutes ago while covering our retreat, I haven't been able to get back to him up to now."

"What happened here?"

"We finished rigging up the charges and went to take up position on the side of the tunnel. Then the batarians rolled up. We got caught in the open and we knew that anything short of running would result in the charges being discovered so we started a fighting retreat into the maintenance corridors," the man sighed before looking at the gun strapped to her leg. "I'll need that."

"What for?" she asked while pulling the pistol from its holster, handing it to the N7 with a hint of confusion.

"To get the detonator," the man replied with a nod into the general direction her omni-tool was pointing in. "I'll need your rifle as well."

"But then I won't have a gun," she protested before eying the SR-8 the N7 was still holding in his left hand. "Besides, what about yours?"

"This one?" he muttered while tossing the gun to the ground. "Just for show by now. It's broken. Why do you think I didn't go after the detonator by now? The only thing I have left is my knife. Even I'm not crazy enough for that."

Deciding that this was probably taking too long, she took a step forward only to be pulled back again, growing frustrated by the N7's apparent obsession with staying hidden.

"Listen to me and listen good, Lieutenant," the N7 whispered as quietly as he could while holding her arm in place. "Their rear guard is patrolling this corridor sporadically and they killed three N7s already, what chance do you think you stand if you walk out there? They'll gun you down the moment they see you. You don't know where the detonator is, you don't know the terrain around the charges and you don't know how many batarians are actually out there right now. If I let you walk out there, you're dead."

"I still have to try. If those tanks get through, the mountain is coming down. If the mountain comes down, a lot of good people will get caught in a stone avalanche and the two of us will be stuck with hundreds of angry batarians."

"I know that," the soldier replied. "But you don't stand a chance out there."

"If I don't stand a chance and you haven't made a move up to now either," she began, taking care to stress the 'I' and 'you' parts to get her point across,"then why are we still standing here, Petty Officer?" Shepard countered as her eyes moved to the rank insignias on his collar before she broke his hold, slowly walking back into the maintenance corridor, nodding towards the way her omni-tool was pointing her. "Come on, we need to move. You can consider that and order if you'd like to."

Looking back between her, the dead N7 further down the corridor and the pistol in his hand, the man smacked the palm of his hand against his helmet to either convince himself to move or, which was more likely, given the grazing shot next to his visor, to fix whatever his damaged HUD was currently doing. He removed the magazine from the gun, checking how many bullets were available to him, and nodded stepped past her.

"Your map is off," he whispered as they began to move forward. "His body isn't in the maintenance area, its in the actual tunnel."

"How far from the closest entrance to the detonator?"

"Twenty meters, tops."

"Understood."

As they pressed themselves to either side of the concrete walls to allow both of them to open fire should they be discovered, they slowly crept towards the closest exit. When they reached the heavy metal door that would've acted as a fire escape under normal circumstances, the N7 stopped her before she could press down its handle, shaking his head and instead pulling out his knife and cutting a small wire that connected the door to what seemed like a fire alarm.

Close one.

Taking a grip of the handle, he turned to look at her.

"The detonator is in his right front pouch, once I fire it, we've got to make a run for it. The AT-charges are smart, they'll find the tanks they're looking for if they're close enough, but their warheads don't discriminate, if we're in the way, we're dead. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Alright, you'll cover me and I'll make a run for it," the N7 said while slowly pulling open the door, before crouching down. Shepard mirrored his movements as he took shelter behind a large abandoned truck, his eyes set on the onyx corpse further up ahead, looking back to her.

"Ready?" he asked as she nodded, only to realise that the sound of tank engines was closing in on them from the north.

"Yes, go," she urged him.

As the N7 got up, he began running to the detonator, only to stop dead in his tracks as both he and Shepard spotted the surprised batarian on the other side of the truck. Before either of them could do something about it, the cigar in his mouth fell to the ground and a warning left his mouth while he brought up his rifle. While her own SR-8 and the pistol she had given to the man were faster than him, riddling his torso with holes before he could do as much as think about squeezing the trigger, the damage had been done. The N7, looking at the tanks appearing from beyond the small curve behind them, deciding that the charges needed to be detonated right now and once more made a run for it, only to be struck down when a batarian round tore through his leg and another punctured his torso, the lack of more shots afterwards indicating that they considered him dead. As he tried to crawl forward to the detonator, Shepard let go of her rifle, looked at the tanks behind her and shot off.

Whether through surprise, disbelief or coincidence, the batarians didn't start shooting until she had already passed her injured companion. Mass accelerator rounds dug into the concrete around her as her vision grew focused on the right front pouch the N7 had named as the location of the detonator, paying no mind to the red flashing warning her of an imminent shield breach. The moment she was close enough, she threw herself to the ground and simply reached into the first pocket that met the description, feeling the shape of a detonator and pressing down on its firing mechanism without even pulling it out to confirm that it was in fact what she was looking for.

The slightly delayed explosion that followed was all the conformation she was needed. As pieces of the tunnel started to come down around her, she looked north.

Where previously batarian tanks and mechanized infantry had been standing, only a blazing inferno of ignited fuel and ammunition remained, the thick cloud of black smoke rapidly draining the oxygen around it. Setting her eyes on the injured N7 who had left a trail of blood in wake of his crawling, she ran over to his body and applied whatever medigel she had left to the much larger wound on his torso, deciding to prioritize it over the comparable insignificant wound on his leg. at first struggling to lift the man up, he was far heavier than he actually looked, she pulled him on his shoulders and began making her way to the emergency exit they had used before, the smoke making it incredibly hard to see just where she was going. She kicked open the door, not even bothering to look if someone was following her, and started running south, her lungs burning with every step and the distance between her and the exit, or rather safety, seeming endless no matter how fast she ran.

The illusion was broken when she fell through the door and collapsed onto the ground outside of the tunnel, rather crudely dropping the N7 in the process. As she turned her head to the trench, she realised that the fighting had stopped but when she decided to take a look at her companion, the lack of motion from him gave her reason to worry.

"Petty Officer?" she asked while getting on her feet as a few isolated gunshots echoed through the air. She didn't go through all of this to have him die. As the hardened surface of his armor made it impossible to tell if he was still breathing, she undid the seal of his helmet and pulled the black armor piece off of his head, revealing a rather young, asian face to her. When looking alone turned out to be not enough to tell if he was still alive, she removed her own helmet and leaned down in an attempt to listen for the faintest breath, only relieved when a barely present wheeze escaped his mouth. "Stay with me," she spoke as she reached for the man's medical pouch, intending to fix the wound on his leg with whatever supplies he had left. Just because he was still breathing, didn't mean he couldn't bleed out at any time. While the hole in his chest had taken priority, a shot to the leg was dangerous as well if left untreated.

"Talk to me, Petty Officer. What's your name, where are you from?" she asked while softly smacking the side of his face before waving towards the closest trench. "I need a corpsman, right now. He's lost a lot of blood."

A weak, unintelligible whisper was all she received at first, the blood loss taking its toll on the soldier.

"What was that? Put a bit of enthusiasm in it, will you? No one understood that," she called as his face stopped growing paler when the medigel finally began to clot the wound. But even if he wasn't losing any more blood, she couldn't afford to let the man drift off. He was still far from saved. "Come on, stay awake. Tell me your name, Petty Officer. That's an order."

"Le-" he meekly began as he stared into the orange morning sky above them, a cough interrupting his answer. The man shut his eyes for a moment before shaking his head ever so slightly, only opening them after another smack to the side of his face encouraged him to.

"You can sleep later, Petty Officer. Spit it out already."

"My name is Kai Leng."

* * *

 _Codex: Medigel_

 _Invented by the Sirta Foundation in 2358 Ad, the human all-purpose medicinal salve is universally considered to be one of the best if not the best medical product currently available to the military and emergency first responders. Capable of sealing most wounds instantaneously and acting against both infection and pain at the same time, the gel has been incredibly popular among human frontline troops ever since its introduction, having saved countless of lives._

 _While technically considered illegal under genetic modification laws due to some of its properties, the sheer usefulness of the product saw it conquer all corners of the galaxy the moment the Sirta Foundation decided to make it universally available to every individual in the galaxy in 2390 AD, a course of action a sizeable portion of the human pharmaceutical sector tried to prevent, officiallyclaiming that the gel's properties might only work on humans but inofficially afraid of allowing the non-profit Sirta Foundation to become an unrivaled player on the galactic plain._

 _Raising their concerns to the Noé Administration, the companies expected the chancellor to act on their demands due to their close ties to the Systems Alliance Foundation, the ruling party of the HSA. However in a rather unexpected twist of events, the chancellor, on the grounds of humanitarian intent, blocked off any demands of preventing the Sirta Foundation from sharing its knowledge with the rest of the galaxy._

* * *

 **A/N: So, this is the longest chapter I've written yet. It might also be the longest POV scene now that I think about it.**

 **Well anyway. I hope I managed to create the contrast I wanted to have with this action scene, this Shepard right here is an incredibly different person than the other characters that usually get scenes like that. She's not a special forces officer yet and definitely not on the near superhuman level I've been makingsome of the other characters out to be on. So this is what a standard Semper Vigilo action scene actually looks like through the eyes of someone that's not a battlehardened soldier, elite spy or Spectre like the other characters that usually have action setpieces this detailed. I really wanted to get acorss just how absolutely horrific the stuff most characters do is from the eyes of a normal person while giving Shepard more of a reason to become the person she needs to be for mass effect to be mass effect.**

 **I'll allow myself to say that it worked.**

 **Adding to that, I do remember telling someone that Shepard would meet someone we all know on Elysium. I'm also gonna llow myself to say that you probably didn't think it would be Kai Leng.**

 **I won't go into detail why its him, I'll just say that I've got my narrative reasons for it being him, you'll see. Its gonna be great, at least if I do it right.**

 **Now other than that, this is actually the first background mission and I want the other two, Akuze and Mindoir, to be at least as long Elysium so yeah, you've got something else to look forward to.**

 **Now other, real life stuff, I'll be a bit busy for the next few weeks, I've got some police tests coming up and since I am far from satisfied with the current way I'd pass the physical part (yeah I'm the kind of guy who's never happy with his running time even if its enough to pass, I know, annoying) I'll probably spent less time writing and more time training. Since I don't want the quality of SV to suffer under that, it might be more than the week and a half schedule I've tried to maintain ever since I had to leave the army. (still not happy with that)**

 **So yeah.**

 **For the record we're at 286 reviews, 490 favorites and 593 follows (not quite the 600 I wanted but maybe this time).**

 **Review and let me know what you think about the chapter, as some may have figured out by now, I reply to all of you.**

 **See you around next time.**


	36. The Better Part Of Valour

**Chapter 36. The** **Better Part Of Valour**

* * *

 **12:31 Local Time,** **28\. April 2408 AD, Elysium, Northern Territory**

Yesterday the world had been in order, she had been just another officer taking part in the exercises on Elysium, going about her duties like any other day. After a day on the shooting range, she had returned to the barracks and decided to catch a good night of sleep in a real bed before her platoon headed out into Elysium's forests for a week. But instead of being woken by her omni-tool and following today's schedule, she had been thrown into an invasion of Elysium, deploying to the region north of New Illyria to defend a tunnel. There she had been baptized in fire, experiencing first hand what it meant to fight professional soldiers instead of the pirates or slavers some of her comrades had faced before. All things considered, their fight had been short but brutal nonetheless. Five of her marines were dead and nearly half of her platoon had been injured in one way or another, a batarian grenade 'luckily' missing the Mako behind them and instead detonating in their trench being responsible for the majority of those casualties. Shortly after the explosion, Shepard herself had come close to meeting her own demise at the hands of a sniper, only the unknown shooter's choice to kill the marine she had ordered to evacuate a casualty first giving her enough time to avoid that particular bullet. Almost immediately after her first encounter with a sniper, it had become obvious that they wouldn't be able to hold the line against the armored batarian detachment that was moving towards them, a realisation that had caused her to complete a nearly suicidal excursion into the tunnels, stopping the tanks and saving an N7 in the process.

Looking back, it still seemed surreal to Shepard that she had not only lived through all of that but played a crucial role in turning the tide of the battle, only the looks some of her comrades had given her on her way to the makeshift command central confirming that it had actually happened. She couldn't quite say what they now saw in her but it was something different from before, to them she had become more than just their lieutenant.

She didn't know how to feel about that yet.

"With their transports unable to lift off and their advance on the NT bogged down beyond the mountains, we should be in the clear until we're relieved. There's no way they're coming through that tunnel anytime soon and unless they're really stupid, they won't attempt an aerial assault with our SAM sites still intact," Ramos explained as the blue projector displayed several batarian shuttles meeting their demise at the hands of surface-to-air missiles, the moment of impact causing both the shuttles and the missiles to vanish into thin air. "Bottom line is, the Northern Territory is as good as secured."

"What about the rest of the planet, Sir?" the army captain standing next to her asked after throwing a look into the burning tunnel, the thick cloud of black smoke making it impossible to tell if the fire inside was still burning or if the flames had consumed their primary source of fuel by now. His distinctive accent allowed her to identify him as the officer that had shot down the major's plan of running into the tunnel himself and the large scorch marks on the right side of his armor gave her reason to believe that luck was the biggest contributor to his current presence.

"The batarian forces are still holding several minor cities in the east and nearly half their remaining shock troops and whatever armor they have left are rallying for a push into Tavka," the major explained as he looked up from the small projector displaying the area around Tavka, now addressing the shrunken circle of officers directly. Tavka, not unlike the Northern Territory, was another mountainous region located east of Illyira, the former capital of Elysium. Thinking back to the briefings they had received early on during their exercise, Shepard remembered that the city was pressed against a highly inaccessible mountain ridge, making it nearly impossible to assault it from several directions at once unless specialized troops somehow found their way over Peak Tavka, a rather time consuming and unlikely scenario given the combatants involved. "But our forces are encircling the remaining landing sites as we speak. With air support behind their backs, they're pushing the batarians to the edge and our troops in Tavka are already receiving reinforcements from other theaters."

"Can they count on orbital support? If this is anything like before, there'll be a lot of Vothams among that armor. A frigate or two wouldn't hurt," her own superior and the highest ranking marine in the area inquired. The dried bloodstain on his right shoulder clashing with the dark-grey camouflage below suggested that he'd have to seek medical attention sooner than later but for the time being they couldn't spare losing another marine officer. As a look around the circle confirmed, besides her and Captain Kendrick only one other ranking member of Foxtrot had lasted throughout the fight, the others either dead or simply too injured to stay on the frontline. As it turned out, combat didn't care about your rank. Enlisted personal and officers alike had been claimed by the fighting, the stream of Kodiaks evacuating groups of wounded from the landing site behind them standing as a testimony to that fact.

"The navy is saying that they'll be at our disposal within the next few hours. They're taking care of stragglers right now and once they picked up the last of the life boats, their frigates will move in position around Elysium and whatever atmospheric support they can provide will be focused on hotspots like Tavka."

"Understood."

"For now our orders are simple, stay hunkered down in the NT and wait things out," Major Ramos went on as he turned off the small field projector before stashing it back in his combat rigging. "Should your company be needed somewhere else, Captain Kendrick, I'll notify you immediately. Does anyone have any questions?"

"How's the rest of the Verge looking, Sir?" an army lieutenant who had decided against taking off his helmet spoke, the small crack in his visor and the heavily damaged depiction of an eagle on the dark-green surface of his chestpiece making Shepard question if he was even luckier than his captain, spoke up. Adding to the obvious damage his armor had sustained, Shepard noticed that the man's right index finger kept twitching every other time, leading her to suspect that there was more to his injury than one could actually make out by just looking at him. A part of him was still stuck in the previous battle, she couldn't blame him for it.

"Unclear, Lieutenant," his commander sighed before taking a moment to look at the burning tunnel himself. "Mindoir Command is holding its ground in spite of the Blood Pack remnants that made it planetside and our forces on Camelot are reporting the successful destruction of most hostile landing sites but some of the smaller colonies between here and the rest of the Verge have gone dark and until further notice we're working under the assumption that the majority of the batarian fleet is operating in those systems. The navy's scrambling whatever fleets they can muster but council patrols have taken away a lot of our firepower. It'll at least be another four days before they're ready to launch a large counter attack."

"What about our allies, Sir?" the same officer asked as he folded his arms, ever so slightly, suppressing the twitching of his finger in the process.

"Elysium Command has informed me that the turians have called an emergency meeting of the Council of Primarchs," the major nodded as the thought of turian legions descending on Khar'shan gave Shepard an unexpected moment of a joy. With the Hierarchy on their side, the batarians wouldn't stand a chance. How could they? No one had ever defeated the turians in open warfare.

"And our other allies?" the tone in his voice pretty much betraying how exactly he felt about the two other races that could render humanity meaningful military aid now that they were presumably going to war with the batarians. "Is this gonna be another two-man show like before or do the fuckers plan on actually showing up this time around, Sir?"

"The summit is all I know about, Lieutenant. Keep your aggression focused on the batarians in front of you, not the politicians back on the Citadel, are we clear?" the major replied, refraining from any sort of comment on the officer's personal opinion.

"Roger that, Sir."

"I was also told to inform you that we're getting sporadic reports of unsanctioned combatants joining the fight throughout several theaters. While we probably won't be affected by it, I still think you should know."

"Unsanctioned combatants?" the army captain from earlier frowned with frustration. "The damn Iffys are attacking us as well? Opportunistic pricks."

"It's not exactly like that, Captain," the major shook his head as Shepard herself decided to listen instead of speaking up for the time being,"they're engaging batarian forces wherever we're not and run away the moment we show up."

"Rules of engagement, Sir?"

"Officially, the IFS is considered hostile," the major shrugged before looking around himself, presumably to confirm that no one who shouldn't hear the next part of his sentence was around. "But off the record?," he muttered."Every batarian they kill is one that won't be shooting at us. As long as they're throwing themselves at the enemy, I see no reason to stop them from doing it. On the off-chance that they show up here, I'd advise you only to fire when fired upon."

"Understood," the major nodded as Shepard found herself agreeing with his logic. While her father had left her somewhat prejudiced towards the IFS, having fought in the Fringe Wars himself and sharing his views on the group on two rare occasions, she could see why there was currently no point in fighting the people who had it out for the same enemy. The last thing Elysium needed right now was a three-way ground war in which humans killed both batarians and their own kind.

Of course a sentiment like that was a dangerous one to have depending on the kind of company one kept. As a large portion of the early IFS militias had either been veterans or deserters of the HSA's armed forces, HSAIS was swift to crack down on anyone they considered to be too sympathetic to the separatist movement. Being part of the HSA's military and not taking action against IFS forces acting under your noses definitely met what the intelligence service had considered 'too sympathetic' in the past. Even if circumstances like the ones they were currently in were exceptional and the previous attack on Mindoir had seen limited cooperation between local militias and army regulars, Emily was certain that the best case scenario for everyone involved was to not meet each other at all. That way both sides could avoid all kinds of trouble.

"Any more questions or opinions you'd like to share?" the major once more asked, a hint of sarcasm accompanying the later part of his sentence. Receiving no answer, he went on. "Good, Lieutenant Shepard, a moment please. The rest of you are dismissed, get back to your units and stay sharp."

When the rest of the officers left the small circle they had formed to head back to their positions, Ramos rolled his neck before putting on his helmet once more, letting a small grunt escape his mouth in the process. "Consider me impressed, Lieutenant, that was one hell of a stunt you pulled back there," he chuckled while looking at the smoke-filled tunnel once more. "If not for the corps, you would've made one hell of an airborne. I didn't get the chance to thank you yet," the man said while extending his hand to her, causing her to shake it. "You saved our collective asses back there, you know that right?"

"I just ran, Sir," she shrugged after letting go of the hand.

"No need to be humble about it, Lieutenant. I'm not the last one you'll be hearing this from."

"Sir?"

"Lieutenant, when I opened that channel I was convinced that I'd have die to stop those tanks, its why I insisted on doing it myself. Everyone on that channel heard me say it," the man muttered as he ignored the echo of a distant detonation, their effects on Shepard already dulled by their recent frequency. "Yet in spite of that you not only said you'd do it, you actually did it and came back to tell the story. If I were you I'd get used to people calling me a hero. That right there is the kind of story people will remember for years to come," the man chuckled before walking past her, only stopping to place a hand on her shoulder, "Make sure you come out of this in one piece, Shepard. Something tells me when this is over a lot of people will come looking for you. You'll want to be around for that. Now get back to your unit."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

 **Three Hours Earlier, Armstrong Nebula**

"Alright, that looks like last ship of the rearguard, spin up the engines, helmsman," she said as she sat up straight in her chair all the while the blue coat around the batarian warship vanished into the blackness of space. Compared to the relay it had just left, the cruiser seemed tiny and the smaller transports and frigates accompanying it appeared almost nonexistent as they made their way towards the small colony up ahead, intending to destroy whatever human ground forces occupied its surface. Once those vessels could unleash the swarms of soldiers inside, they'd go on to assault the colonists. With the small army unit hopelessly outmatched and a lack of both an HSA naval presence or orbital installations allowing the batarians free reign over space, there wasn't much hope for the planet once the ships got into position.

But just like the flotilla that had the misfortune of stumbling into a system the New Dawn had previously occupied, they wouldn't get that far.

"Lieutenant, sound general quarters," the woman muttered while folding her hands in front of her mouth, her eyes focused on the large screen currently depicting the biggest threat to their ship, the sole cruiser of the formation. While not nearly as sophisticated as her own ship, its gun could still do some damage if left unchecked for too long, making it a priority target. Its destruction would give her both a tactical advantage and a few precious moments of disarray among the batarian fleet.

Originally the Shadow Broker had informed Admiral Drescher that the planned batarian offensive wouldn't be due for another two months, so when first reports of batarian fleet movements had reached her, she had been forced to rush the repaired battlecruiser to the closest, most desolate HSA colony she could find while ordering the remaining cells to prepare for short-notice defense operations, hoping to have enough time to intervene in some places and in turn add to the foundation Mindoir's commander had already laid towards fixing the mess Kamarov had left in his wake. The cloud of broken transports, frozen corpses and drifting batarian life pods in the Kalabsha System was just an early step towards achieving that goal, the battles her comrades currently fought on the ground would be far more important.

As the sirens echoed through the vessel and a red lighting replaced the normal illumantion of the New Dawn's scarcely occupied bridge, she glanced at the terminal to her left to confirm that the VIs which allowed the battlecruiser to run with as little of a crew as she had available were still working as they should. Finding them in the exact state they had been in when the New Dawn had claimed its first kill of the day, she once more slipped into the mindset that had allowed her to win against numerically superior foes in the past.

The trick to achieving victory in situations such as these was to take care of the most obvious threat as soon and as violently as possible. If she could send the kind of dread the battlecruiser had installed in the HSA's sailors down the spines of their batarian counterparts, the odds of the battle would tip further into her favour. Unlike the natural fear accompanying any form of combat, a sense of hopeless terror caused most soldiers to become nearly useless at their jobs, a fact she'd take advantage of.

"They've spotted us, Ma'am. The escorts are breaking off to intercept our trajectory and the transports are making a run for the planet," one of the few flag officers still serving under her explained. Naval captains of the IFS were few and far between these days, she was fortunate to have one of them manning her bridge.

"Plot a short-range jump, get us into optimal range and fire at will. I want that cruiser gone as soon as possible."

"Understood, Ma'am," the officer replied as the New Dawn launched itself through the darkness at a speed thought impossible for a ship of its tonnage. Common logic dictated that the bigger and heavier a ship was, the harder it was for mass effect drive core to accelerate it into an FTL jump, a law that limited just how big and how heavy one could actually built their spaceships to begin with. This was were the unique armor-plating of the New Dawn came into play. Not only was the layer of both incredibly experimental and expensive plates more resilient than the alloy usually used to reinforce the hulls of human naval ships, it was also far lighter. Not only was the New Dawn tougher than just about any cruiser in the galaxy, it was also as fast as an average frigate, a feature that had played a monumental role in its killing spree during the Fringe Wars.

The HSA couldn't stop a ship they couldn't catch.

As two slightly delayed sets of vibrations climbed through the floor of the ship and made their way up her spine, she watched the two pairs of projectiles tear through space. The bluish flicker of kinetic barriers breaking under the force of the first two projectiles of the New Dawn's maingun was followed by an orange explosion swallowing the rear end of the vessel, the next feature that had earned BC-313 its nickname coming into full effect in front of her eyes. Instead of firing all of its four spinal cannons at once, which would cause the first wave of projectiles to be annihilated by any sort of shielding present on their target, the New Dawn's main guns fired in a delayed rhythm. Instead of allowing a foe to start avoiding volleys at long distances until their barriers recovered from initial hits, the New Dawn combined its fire power with a simple yet incredibly deadly trick.

Before the crippled cruiser could make its escape, the third pair of tungsten projectiles impacted slightly above the already damaged section, a sudden flash of white temporarily blinding the camera which had focused its lenses directly on the spot. They had hit something critical, that much became evident once another perspective filled the screen to confirm what she already knew. An explosion in the cruiser's reactor had torn the ship apart, a design flaw Batarian State Arms was either still ignorant of or simply unwilling to fix for one reason or another. While a reactor breach was normally already considered a crippling blow, batarian designs were evidently susceptible to suffering catastrophic chain reactions of unrivaled scale. Whether their emergency protocols were too slow or too outdated or their power generation methods simply inherently flawed, damaging their power sources was the surest way to annihilate their vessels in rapid succession. That much had been her experience in the previous battle and this encounter only added to it.

"Targeting the frigates now," the officer informed her as the New Dawn turned its bow towards the rest of the escorts, a glance to another screen informing her that on their current path at least one of them could outmaneuver them before the battlecruiser could do something about it. While most of their hull was coated in the experimental layer of armor, the hull breach they had fixed didn't enjoy that privilege. Due to a distinctive lack of control over the Fringe's military-industrial complex they hadn't been able to recreate the alloy originally used to build the New Dawn and a detailed scan would allow the batarians to figure out their weak spot eventually. She'd rather not wait to see just how long it would take them to do so.

"Lower our engine thrust to half and prepare for a velocity turn once the two rightmost frigates are destroyed," she ordered, intending to delay their momentum before using the side-mounted emergency thrusters of the New Dawn to prevent the remaining escort from getting a shot at their exposed flank.

"Aye,aye, Ma'am," the dark-skinned captain nodded before her ship slowed down noticeably, the familiar feeling of a maingun discharge once more traveling through the vessel the moment their gunner had gotten a firing solution on the first escort ship.

Returning her attention to the screen in front of her, she saw the first of the boxy frigates start its evasion attempts, the distance between the vessels and the battlecruiser's main cannon velocity rendering the effort in vain. Even before the batarian captain could start to clear the trajectory of the tungsten rounds flying towards his ship, the two volleys annihilated his barriers and cleaved straight through the smaller craft, entering through the front of the vessel and passing through everything in their path, even preventing the reactor from detonating by presumably annihilating it too quickly for the chain reaction to take place. Its sister ship, its crew now starting to feel the terror a vessel such as the New Dawn rightfully inspired, tried to evade its fate by steering upwards. But the enemy captain hadn't counted on how maneuverable his opponent actually was and suffered a fate similar to the other escort, his ship breaking apart in two unequal halves when the maingun's next volley connected with its belly. It wasn't as complete of a destruction as before but it'd suffice. The second frigate wouldn't be of any more concern.

"Execute the high-velocity turn, now," she instructed as she gripped the edges of her chair. Even the inertal dampeners of the battlecruisers couldn't fight the level of force a maneuver like the one they were about to attempt created. As she was pressed into her chair with enough force to throw an unprepared human across the bridge, the lone escort that had tried to flank her ship suddenly found itself face to face with the four mass accelerators running alongside the spine of the New Dawn. "Give them hell, Captain."

"With pleasure."

For the fourth time in the last few minutes the large ship unleashed its deadly payload onto a batarian target, proving once more why the HSA had dedicated an unproportional amount of ships to the sole task of hunting it down. The rounds followed their pattern, first breaking the shielding of the frigate and then punching straight through its armor, whatever armor the batarians used on their ships proving no match to the kind of firepower the Red Dread could unleash. Making their way through the bridge, obliterating every batarian unfortunate to stand in their trajectory, the rounds eventually hit the frigates drive core, the bluish dust glistening in the light of this system's sun vanishing in a flash of white when the damaged reactor once more subjected the escort to the critical design flaw she'd come to enjoy exploiting.

"Landing craft are still headed for the planet Ma'am."

"Put us in between them and broadcast live camera footage across the planet."

As a blue light filled the screens that acted as the defacto windows of the battlecruiser, the New Dawn again leapt through space, accomplishing an FTL jump few people would dare to even try. As the colonists directly below their position became witness to the rare image of a ship blueshifting right above their heads, the batarian transports were justifiably caught off guard by the comparably huge ship suddenly positioned between them and the colony. Unqualified to enter FTL this close to a planet, their pilots began to execute the same kind of evasive maneuvers they had probably been trained to attempt when faced with a vessel presumably incapable of rapid movement. Shooting off into various directions, they figured that the New Dawn's mass accelerators could only target one of them at a time, giving the others ample time to flee. It was a pragmatic approach that would see some of them meet their demise but in their eyes, the survival of the majority outweighed the lives of the minority, a concept that she had always found somewhat questionable the moment the nature of those lives were defined more closely. Was saving a hundred regular people really worth the lives of a dozen exceptional ones?

Sadly for them, four spinal cannons weren't the only weapons the New Dawn possessed. The IFSDF had made sure not to create a weapon that, while powerful, could only fire into one direction. Given how humanity fought space battles, that would've been beyond idiotic.

"Firing missile pods one to seven," the woman in charge of that particular system spoke in a cold, calculated manor all the while dozens of missiles designed to hunt down whatever they locked on to left their batteries, the same mechanism that allowed the HSA's disruptor torpedoes to rapidly close in on their targets activating shortly afterwards. As the screen tracking each of the transports became the center of her attention, the crude, red dots representing the landing craft began to disappear one after another, depicting the violent end of hundreds of lives by peacefully blinking out of existence.

"Any other contacts in the system?" she asked across the silent bridge, the lack of unexperienced personal explaining the lack of victory chants. This wasn't the first victory for anyone on her crew, all of them were veterans of dozens of battles and once you passed a certain threshold the joy of being victorious grew dull.

"No further contacts on our sensors, Ma'am."

"Was the broadcast to the colony successful?"

"Yes, Admiral Drescher."

"Good, then get us out of here. Plot a course for the relay and sent a probe to the next colony on our list. Lets see if we can beat the batarians to the punch for a third time."

"Aye, aye."

As the New Dawn's drive core once more came to life, she began drumming her fingers on the armrest of her chair, a habit she had developed throughout the many times she had personally commanded a vessel. Now that the battle was won and she'd have to pass some time until their probe told them whether or not it was save to keep pursuing their objectives, a small sigh escaped her mouth. What was it that the Batarian Hegemony was trying to achieve here? Why go to war now?

While both sides knew that any open conflict between the HSA and the batarians would eventually result in a human victory, Drescher suspected that the Hegemony aimed to put humanity into a situation in which it was preferable to agree to a ceasefire before the rest of the galaxy, or more specifically the Turian Hierarchy, could join the fight and finally end the war they'd been preparing to start for centuries. It was a solid strategy, if batarian forces managed to occupy the majority of human colonies in the Verge, it wasn't far fetched to believe that the HSA's government would be inclined to look for a solution that didn't result in massive civilian casualties, the same lack of resolve had allowed the IFS to rise to power in the first place. The HSA's navy might have been numerically superior to the Hegemony's own as a whole but it was also more spread out. The HSA couldn't afford to concentrate all of its forces on the Skyllian Verge and as such it would take some time before worlds that were occupied could be reclaimed, time that the batarians could use to demand a favorable ceasefire while holding the colonies they had taken hostage, an action she didn't consider too far fetched given their reputation.

It was ironic, really. It had been the batarians who had cried out against the ruling that allowed the HSA to maintain its dreadnought count under the condition that they contributed to the peacekeeping duties of the three council members. If not for its existence, half of the HSA's fleet would already be well on its way towards the Fringe and by extension towards batarian space. For all its complaints about humanity being exempt from the Treaty of Farixen's limits, the Hegemony hadn't hesitated to use the consequences of the ruling to its advantage.

Of course the success of their plan would largely depended on controlling the worlds that served as the HSA's main staging grounds in the Verge. Without the big space ports of Elysium and Camelot, the HSA would lack rally points capable of sustaining large fleets, in turn requiring even more time to set up the logistical support grid needed for a counter attack and giving the batarians more time to move the majority of their own navy into the now secured region, increasing the pressure for a ceasefire all the more and reviving the biggest issue of fighting a war in this part of the Fringe Worlds all over again, supply shortages.

Luckily for the HSA, those staging grounds hadn't been taken yet. The IFSDF remnants still active on the crucial planets were reporting that the HSA wasn't just holding its ground, they were actually winning. The batarians had miscalculated, not counting on one of the few things she had always admired about the HSA, the grit of the soldiers sworn into its service. One could fault the politicians living their lives within the safety of Arcturus for a great many number of things and would be justified in blaming most issues humanity faced at any given time on their actions but the people she had faced in battle time and again had her respect for a reason. If they were forced to fight on their own turf, they rarely stopped until they were either dead, victorious or both.

With a sizeable portion of their own troops stuck on the planet they had tried to take, the position of strength the batarians had tried to gain in hopes of a swift, favourable peace had turned into their undoing. Many of the tens of thousands of slavers, mercenaries and batarian soldiers who had been part of the first wave into the Verge were now stranded in enemy territory and the HSA's navy was well on its way to hopefully reclaim whatever worlds they had managed to take.

That particular thought caused her to frown at the irony of it. When she had abandoned her post to join the separatist attack on the space port of Shanxi, she never would've thought that the day on which she hoped for an HSA victory would come ever again. Yet here she was wishing them the best of luck in a conflict she herself looked to use to the IFS' advantage.

It truly were strange times she found herself in.

"Relay's clear, Admiral. No sign of HSA or batarian activity yet."

"Send us through, helmsman. If our intel is good, another invasion force will show up within the hour. Let's make it three for three."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

* * *

 **27 Hours Later, 2150 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

"Spirits, I don't have to tell you how bad this is, right?" he muttered into the console as yet another company marched into one of the large transports waiting within the confines of the military base outside, both the sound of their feet hitting the tarmac of the distant landing strip in a perfect rhythm and the barking orders of their commanders echoing into his room through the opened window.

"Was worried this might occur," the salarian hologram replied before looking at the invisible floor below him. "Warned batarian ambassador not to attempt this after they left Citadel Council. Gave humanity the guarantee that both Union and Republics would come to their defense."

"I know that you did but honestly, Valern? Did you really think they'd listen to you?" the turian general sighed as his omni-tool buzzed, his adjutant, Commander Melion, informing him that the final Blackwatch teams were now preparing to board their vessels, ready to take on the most crucial assignments of the coming war. "They're batarians, they never listen to anyone that disagrees with them."

"Invasion of batarian space is undesirable," the salarian spy protégé turned councilor began to mumble as Desolas himself was split between performing his formal duties as the acting commander of the Blackwatch and doing something he never could've seen himself doing ten years ago, trying to tell the Primarch of Palaven that invading Khar'shan was a mistake. While Fedorian had understood the situation they were in, the former admiral had been quite clear on the fact that they'd fight as long as humanity needed them to. The Hierarchy had vowed to never allow the Hegemony to occupy another sovereign planet ever again and he knew that his people wouldn't go back on that promise. Until a single batarian remained on a world he shouldn't be on, turian forces would give it their all.

"We can't afford a war, Valern. Harbinger exterminated the protheans, we'll need every ship the galaxy can offer if we want to stand even the slightest chance against him," the general replied while typing a message to the two humans directly in contact with him. They needed to stop their government from doing anything but reclaiming the planets the batarians had taken. He had lived long enough to know that the moment human forces set foot into batarian space would be the moment the Hierarchy would unleash its might on the entirety of the Batarian Hegemony. His people had been waiting for a chance like this ever since the end of the Krogan Rebellions, they wouldn't think twice about it if someone was willing to go along with it. "No matter how justified this war is, we need to stop it."

"Agreed. While council victory is inevitable, invasion of batarian core systems will be costly."

"Which is why you need to do whatever you can to keep the rest of the council out of this mess."

"Defense agreement between the members of the Citadel is not a decision the council can intervene on," the salarian replied. "Treaty is clear on the matter, an attack on one associate is an attack on the entire Citadel Council."

"I'm familiar with the treaty, my people have enforced peace through it for a thousand years," Desolas frowned while finishing up the message, yet another notification from Melion popping up the moment he sent it. "But there has to be something you can do before my people turn the Harsa System into a mass grave. We can't give the Harbinger his first victory before he even shows up."

"Timely ceasefire is our only option. When will the first turian forces arrive in the Skyllian Verge?"

"The day after tomorrow," the general muttered as he received conformation that Director Rei had received his message. He began to pack the terminals he always carried with him and threw another look at the salarian hologram standing in the corner of the room, his body language true to STG's reputation completely unreadable.

"Asari Republics will be slow to render aid. Their opinion on humanity is still divided and unless directly attacked by batarians, the Republican Navy can't act without a mandate. But STG might only be able to delay Inner Cabinet for another day, batarians were always considered dangerous, for some the opportunity to eliminate them is tempting."

"Can't say I blame them," the general grunted. "Do whatever you can to keep your people out of this war as long as possible, even if its just a few days, we'll need them," Desolas added as yet another message of Melion increased the pressure on him. They were waiting for him and soon they'd come looking. Glancing at his omni-tool for another time, he leaned on his desk and stared at the hologram, the expression of Valern now betraying that he had interrupted him.

"Dalatrasses however could be problematic," the councilor added, causing Desolas to growl. He knew that Cozek had been far from popular with the rulers of salarian society, the fact that STG had gone out of its way to convince the Inner Cabinet to openly name a candidate without their consent having poisoned their opinion of this 'unbidden councilor' right from the beginning. Things had only gotten worse when they had realised that the candidate was an STG operative. The Special Task Group and the dalatrasses had never been friendly to each other and naming one of their own as the councilor of their people hadn't improved relations between the two in the slightest. The fact that Cozek had selected his own successor in quite the same manner he had gotten the position had made Valern equally unpopular with them. The dalatrasses hated the notion of losing power, especially to one of the few organisations that could act outside of their control. They had mistrusted the group for a long time and the only source of good will between the two was the fact that it had been STG operatives who had stopped the infamous League of One from adding several powerful dalatrasses to their list of victims.

"You've got to try, Valern," he uttered as a gust of wind hit the curtains next to his opened window, a quick look to his right revealing yet another transport to be the source of turmoil. He was running out of time, especially a general was expected to stick to his schedule, a task he was currently failing at.

"Of course. Will delay them as long as possible."

"Good. Remember, every day counts," Desolas replied as Veltax, one of the three members of his personal guard, informed him that his adjutant was now headed to his office, effectively putting an end to their conversation. "Good luck, Valern."

"I'm not the one going to war, good luck to you, General," the salarian countered, nodding briefly before bringing up his omni-tool, a flick of his wrist causing the hologram to fade out of existence. Desolas drew in a long breath before closing the footlocker next to him. The only thing he could do now was to put his faith into his companions. Starting now, his duty to the Hierarchy would leave him incapable of assisting them and unless they managed to stop this war soon, everything they had achieved up to now would be in vain.

They couldn't let that happen.

He knew that they wouldn't let it happen.

* * *

 **1\. May 2408 AD, Arcturus Station**

Truthfully, he had known this day would come eventually but he still would've preferred having this conversation under slightly less rushed conditions. While it was a fact that this meeting was just about their one and best shot at pulling the brakes, he couldn't ignore just how horribly wrong this could go if he played his cards wrong.

"I called ahead, she should already be waiting for you, Director," the military police corporal said as one of his fellow guards opened the door up ahead upon spotting them, clearing their path in the process.

The last time he had walked through Arcturus with the intention of informing the acting chancellor of the HSA that both Section 13 and Cerberus were keeping incredibly important information from him, things had been different. The Skyllian Verge hadn't been invaded by batarians, the HSA hadn't been associated with the Citadel Council, there hadn't been a human Spectre and the past actions of the Harbinger hadn't been revealed by a rather unorthodox asari archeologist. When Harper and him had confronted Noé, they had done so with full confidence that he'd understand their reasoning from keeping a secret as important as this from him and that he'd help to keep it that way until the time was right.

He couldn't say the same about the current situation.

Section 13 had operated under a need-to-know directive for decades, carefully picking out what they revealed not only to those outside of their ranks but also their own specialists. No organisation within the HSA was as secretive as their own and at times Rei asked himself if it was a good thing that only a handful of people had unrestricted access to Section 13's entire archive. While some of the things specialists had done should never reach the light of day for the sake of peace, the truth behind the IFS' fall still being particularly dangerous to the HSA's stability, the events he had paid witness to ever since first encountering an Object Omnicron were so indisputably crucial to humanity's survival that keeping them secret for even a moment longer than necessary may very well result in humanity's extinction. He knew that the former ambassador had always hated being kept in the dark and he doubted that she'd react the way Noé had. Even if his own profession left little room for transparency, he could understand the logic behind deeming the things he was about to tell her crucial public knowledge right from the beginning.

It gave him all the more reason to worry about what she'd do with it.

"Thank you, Corporal," he dismissed the guard before coming to a halt in front of the door, his hand hovering over the opening mechanism in a rare moment of hesitation.

He really wished that there was another way to stop the HSA from exhausting itself in a justified war but the situation was forcing his hand. They all agreed, losing even a fifth of their naval assets would be absolutely devastating and while the Hegemony didn't stand the faintest chance of winning against the combined forces of the Citadel Council, they'd still inflict casualties that would take years to replace, years they might not have. Any rational enemy commander would strike when his opponent was weakened and given everything they knew about the Harbinger, it was reasonable to assume that he wouldn't act any different. They didn't know how big his forces were, they didn't know how he fought his battles but they did know that he was without the shadow of a doubt the biggest contributor to the extinction of the protheans.

And that alone said more about their own odds than he was comfortable with admitting.

Shaking the thoughts out of his mind for now, he took a rather deep breath. There was no point in delaying it any further, was there? Opening the lock with a single hand motion, he stepped inside the office just as Goyle looked up from her desk, exhaustion written on her face. It was clear that the last days had been long for her, jumping from one meeting to the next all the while preparing the HSA for a prolonged interstellar war. He pushed the idea of using that exhaustion to his advantage down the moment it surfaced, a diplomat with her experience would pick up on such a cheap negotiation technique and in turn react to it, complicating this matter all the more. Furthermore trying a trick like that on someone who was on your side was a sure way to remove whatever trust you had with them. Since he was trying to achieve the opposite of that, it would be an even stupider move.

"You wanted to talk to me, Director?" she asked before returning her attention to the screen in front of her. "Please make it quick, I have to address parliament in fifteen minutes and they hate waiting."

"You may want to reschedule, Ma'am." This would take far longer than fifteen minutes.

"Why?" the woman asked, once more peaking up form the screen, evidently giving him her full attention now.

"There's something I have to tell you and you won't enjoy hearing it," he admitted before deciding that he should just cut right to the chase. "You have to push for a ceasefire as soon as possible. This war can't escalate further under any circumstances. There's a far bigger enemy out there and if we tear ourselves apart right now, we're all doomed. Noé understood that, I hope you will too."

"What are you talking about, Director Rei? What does Noé have to do with any of this?"

Not answering at first, the director sighed as Goyle's eyes narrowed in anticipation and activated his omni-tool, linking it to the hologram projector in the room before pulling up the image of the device that had started this entire ordeal in the first place. As its smooth, purple shape assembled itself in the center of the room, he began.

"This is Object Omnicron, an alien artifact capable of influencing the actions of people through the use of highly sophisticated cybernetic implants," he explained while adding a frozen image of a disfigured salarian face to reinforce the concept. "The first one Director Harper and I encountered on Shanxi managed to turn dozens of IFS soldiers in less than two days and permanently altered Jack's eyes through an as of yet unknown but harmless process. Another one possibly swayed hundreds of pirates before we destroyed it with the help of turian forces."

"Why am I only hearing this now? This is n-"

"Ma'am, I wasn't done," he interrupted the reply he knew would come. They could talk about the whole Harper situation later, right now he needed to make a point. "Following an operation in the Plutus System, we began to realise that the artifacts weren't the threat itself but merely a remnant of a past conflict. Almost immediately Cerberus and Section 13 started to look for the real danger, the creators of these weapons, and in doing so found out that both Blackwatch and STG were looking into the same matter. What they found was even more worrying," he spoke as the footage of an STG operative coming to a halt at the edge of a crater on Jartar's surface began to play with the help of the projector. As the salarian looked down at the massive husk of a starship they had come to call the Leviathan of Dis, Goyle folded her hands in front of her face. When she didn't immediately speak up again, he decided to use the chance to elaborate. "After the discovery of an ancient starship wreckage, we joined forces with them and began following whatever leads we could find on the creator of these things, something we refer to as 'the Harbinger'."

He considered his next move carefully, this might be the most sensitive part of this conversation.

"But our search proved mostly futile until an event you yourself were part of. Sometime in late 2395 a batarian entrepreneur came into closer contact with something closely related to both this ship and the Object Omnicrons, striking a deal with Doctor Shu Qian and launching a raid on-"

"Sidon," she finished.

"Correct," he said before the image of the broken spaceship vanished and an audiofile began to play in its place.

"It doesn't matter if I live or die turian," a deep batarian voice echoed through the room, "our path has been set since our ancestors first sailed through the stars. We never had a choice. None of us. Not you, not me."

"What did you find, Had'dah?" a flanging voice replied, the reaction of the chancellor betraying that she knew exactly who it belonged to.

"The truth. I found the truth," the batarian spoke as Rei focused on the chancellor and not the recording, letting it play for a few more seconds before reaching the crucial part. "You cannot escape your doom," he spoke before two muffled gunshots rang through the office off the HSA's chancellor, possibly horrifying anyone close by. As images of both Qian and the turian Blackwatch officer Elanos Haliat appeared next to that of Edan Had'dah, he gave Goyle some time.

"I assume this truth is why you want me to push a ceasefire?" Goyle sighed before rising from her chair in order to step closer to the projector, turning back to him only when she had gotten a good look at the three people. "Leaving this attack unanswered will destroy all progress we've made to mending the wounds of the Fringe Wars. You know that a ceasefire will drive these people right back into the IFS' hands. If we don't fight the batarians, it'll be the 343 Incident all over again. Whatever this truth is, is it really worth risking that much?"

It was a justified concern. Kamarov's actions had seen the separatists' support diminished throughout human space but ever since IFSDF soldiers had joined arms with HSA forces on Mindoir, there had been a worrying tendency of people forgetting that the red heptagon was still considered the sigil of a hostile force, even when they were fighting the same batarian slavers.

"Believe me, Madam Chancellor, I know better than most people what's at stake here. I fought in the Fringe Wars, I saw first hand what happens when we turn on each other. I spent months being undercover on Camelot, I very nearly bled out on Amaterasu , I snuck my way onto Shanxi itself and I saw Illyria burn in nuclear fire," he muttered his reply,"do you really think I'd ask this of you if it wasn't?"

The uncomfortably long silence that followed was an answer in its own right.

"After this encounter, we had nothing else for years, the trail had gone cold and we were getting desperate,"the director recalled as the images vanished in favour of the chemical compound that Doctor T'Soni had used to reveal the truth behind the protheans' disappearance. "Until an asari archeologist found this."

"Radioactive soil?" the woman blurted out after eyeing the analysis for a few moments, in turn surprising the director himself. He hadn't taken her for a chemist. "What about it?"

"You're looking at a sample of dust taken in the wake of a skirmish with pirates," Rei said as he waved his hand through the air again, causing another diagram to appear next to it, "and this right here is a sample of dust found on heavily damaged prothean ruins throughout the Attican Traverse. As you can see they're nearly identical."

Folding her arms, the chancellor kept looking at the two diagrams. Now was the time to reveal the single most convincing reason to push for a ceasefire.

"The dust is the residue of a weapon a group of pirates built with the help of an Object Omnicron," Rei turned towards her as the projector began to create a galaxy map, countless of dots appearing near human territory. "Meaning that the same weapons were used to exterminate the protheans."

"What are you saying, Director?"

"I'm saying that the same monster that killed every single living prothean is looking to do the same thing to us any time now and if we tear each other apart right now, we'll be doing the Harbinger a favour," he replied firmly before giving her a few moments to collect her thoughts. Even a seasoned politician like her would need some time to comprehend what he had just told her. "For a similar reason this knowledge should never leave this room. If people knew what was lurking just out of our reach and how little of a chance we truly stand at defeating it, they'd justifiably panic. Next to this war, that's just about the last thing we need."

"Tell me, Director," Goyle muttered as she turned away from the projector, the artificial blue of its light reflecting off her white dress. "If I knew that someone was trying to kill you and didn't tell you about it until they arrived at your doorstep, would you be satisfied with the time you had to prepare?"

Her immediate believe surprised him, he had to admit that much. While they had gathered much more evidence than when they had confronted Chancellor Noé, only presenting him with a series of reports, he had expected that Goyle would be a tougher nut to crack. Even if he was certain that she was far from pleased with only hearing about it now and evidently questioning the righteousness of keeping everything they had learned a secret, she didn't voice any doubts about what he had just said no matter how outlandish some of it might have sounded. Maybe some of his expectations had been unjustified, maybe they should've done this far earlier. But even in face of these thoughts, he knew that he couldn't agree with her on one crucial matter.

"With all due respect, this isn't about the principle, Ma'am," he shook his head at the proposed query before pulling a small data drive from his jacket and holding it up between his fingers for her to see, "and for the record, we have been preparing for quite some time now. When we're done here, I suggest you take a look at this," he added as he tossed the small device towards the woman, handing over years of highly secretive research in the process. "I know that there's nothing else I can do to change your mind so from here on out, you decide what happens with this."

Left with no other viable options, the head of Section 13 shut off the projector and waited for a reply, the seconds that passed seeming like a small eternity. Had it been a good idea to hand her everything on a silver platter? He'd find out any minute now.

"Every minute we spent talking about a ceasefire hundreds of people are kidnapped to be sold on slaver markets, every day I'd invest into negotiating with someone as stubborn as the batarians is another day they are allowed to do as they please with the people on the occupied worlds while I force our troops to stand by and watch."

"We'll get them back," he promised. "Section 13 will find every last one of them. It's what we do."

"You know that's not true, Rei."

"But I have to believe that it is," he said before taking a pause he didn't think he'd need. "If I didn't believe that we can do it, if I didn't believe that we stand a chance at winning, why would I still be fighting? It would be pointless," another unexpected break hit him,"I know that I'm already asking a lot of you, Ma'am, I really do. Pushing parliament for a ceasefire will have consequences. But for all of our sakes I'm asking you to fight with me."

Looking at the small datadrive in her hand, Goyle walked over to her desk and placed it on its wooden surface. She dropped back down in her chair and once more began working on her terminal in silence, leaving him standing in the middle of the room.

"You're dismissed, Director Rei," she said after a minute before once reaching for the drive, twirling it in her left hand for several moments before giving it an assessing look.

"Madam Chancellor?"

"I still got work to do," Goyle explained before pushing the drive into the side of the computer, throwing him a final look, "besides you don't want to be here for the fallout of cancelling a parliament meeting on short notice. Trust me, that's not an experience you want to make," she chuckled darkly before turning to look at him, her blue eyes meeting his own darker ones."I'll take care of this fight, Director, you continue yours."

"Understood, Ma'am."

* * *

 _Codex: Inner Cabient of the Salarian Union_

 _Forming the elected counterpart to the dalatrasses, the matriarchal rulers of salarian society, the Inner Cabinet of the Salarian Union is a body made up of elected representatives hailing from both the different colonies and most influential clans of the salarian people. Fulfilling a similar role to the HSA's parliament, the Inner Cabinet is the sole other example of an representative, legislative government body in the galaxy, other species either directly voting on the laws themselves or not electing the legislative institution at all. Established at the dawn of the Salarian Union in 941 BCE, the Inner Cabinet, due to the shorter than average life span of their species and the sheer size of the salarian population, is elected only every ten years, resulting in most of its members serving no more than two terms before retiring from politics._

 _Answering to both the people and the dalatrasses, the Inner Cabinet shares its governmental responsibility with the historical rulers of pre-Union history and, while not required to, aims to match its decisions to the will of the matriarchal rulers. This tradition led to both the more liberal elements of salarian society and surprisingly parts of the Union's own military, which unlike the planetary defense forces swear its loyalty to the salarian people and the Union, not the dalatrasses, to question how independent its decisions truly are. Some groups even going as far as claiming that the Inner Cabinet is merely a puppet organ installed to quell the revolutionary mindest that had manifested itself shortly after the most powerful duchies of Sur'Kesh had made their decision to form the Union public, serving not the purpose of actually represent the salarian people but actually repressing their desire for a less stratified society._

 _Mostly responsible for passing laws, representing the people who elected them and watching over the other bodies of the Union, the Inner Cabinet is unique in the fact that it, in spite of being the legislative branch, is the institution responsible for selecting the councilor of the Union, the salarian that acts as the link between them and the rest of the Citadel Council. While usually drawn from a pool of candidates approved by the dalatrasses, one rather inconspicuous tenet of the Union's code of law gives the Inner Cabinet the ability to instead name its own candidate, an action that results in something the more traditional parts of salarian society refer to as an 'unbidden councilor', a salarian politician that took power without the dalatrasses giving their permission._

 _In the entire history of the Salarian Union there have only ever been five instances of a councilor being unbidden, one during the Rachni Wars, two during the Krogan Rebellions and two consecutive ones following the resignation of Councilor Vaelan (name shortened for convenience, See Entry 'Salarian Naming Conventions'), all of which were accompanyied by a period of bad blood between the Cabinet and the dalatrasses._

 _In spite of the questions surrounding its legitimacy, the Salarian Union remains one of the most stable governments in the galaxy, the assassination of the entire Inner Cabinet at the hands of the League of One (See Entry 'Error: File Expunged') remaining the only organized attempt at toppling it._

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, first off, sorry that this is ridicilously late for my standards but both preparing for the tests and the worst cold I've had in years took a lot out of me. Add in a small writer's blockade an you've got 20 days without an update :D (spoilers, taking tests when you're sick is not a good idea, didn't pass the federal police exams (I still have two state police ones, so no worries for now))**

 **Off to the chapter. It basically starts of where the last one ended, not much to say in that regard. I decided to give Drescher the military analysis/exposition of what the batarians are trying to do because it kind of fits her character the best. (briefly considered giving it to either shepard (she's not exactly experienced enough to know that shit) or Desolas (while he hast he experience, he really had a lot of better things to do than thinking about why the batarians are about to screw shit up)**

 **Now in case you didn't notice it from the tone and the previous hints, I'll spell the presumed disappointment otu for you here. This won't be one of the stories where the humans kick the batarians across space (there are far too many of those) because not only is the originial Skyllian Blitz story much more interesting than a huge HFY story arc, but also its necessary for the rest of the story to keep them around. I'm sure some of you wanted to see a prolonged war against the oh-so-evil batarians but as I've said early on, I'm trying to make something different with Semper Vigilo, something that doesn't fit the template most of the popular fanfics follow (humans come, kick everyone's ass and show the stupid council how galactic politics work best)**

 **No, I've been far too foreshadowing on WHY that war can't happen under any circumstances before and now I'll follow up on that. Would feel cheap to chicken out on all the comments and foreshadowing for the sake of an arc that's been done a dozen times by two dozen authors.**

 **Well, that turned into quite the rant, didn't mean for that to happen, really. I know you'll understand. If you wanted heavy HFY, you wouldn't be here.**

 **Back to the story.** **Now the first background is basically completed, meaning that number two is right around the corner (who's that'll be is already kind of hinted at by the end of the chapter, if you remember the last few A/Ns you're gonna know by now)**

 **And, since I never do that, let's talk about the codex. As the demand of expanding on the whole salarian society issue I've been hinting at left and right has been huge, I decided to reward you wiiiith**

 ***give me a drumroll you fuckers***

 **more teases...**

 **Yeah we won't be seeing the full payoff for that particular mess for a long time. It's one of the big things I wanted to do when first starting this story and I will keep building towards it for a long time. But once it gets started you better strap in boys, its gonna be a good ride to the finale. I just find the concept of a feudal society in a galaxy of all kinds of freedom too inteesting to wrap up in one codex entry or one off hand comment. People give the batarians and sometimes the turians a lot of shit for being authoritarian, yet the salarians are literally stuck in the middle ages with their concept of government. That always fascinated me really.**

 **Now if you'd excuse me, I've got Stellaris to play (perks of being sick, I can stay inside and play Synthetic Dawn guiltfree. It's awesome, it really is)**

 **While I do that, you go ahead and drop a review. Sounds fair? cool. Do it.**

 **Jesus, these A/Ns are getting otu of control. Time to wrap it up.**

 **For the record we're at 294 reviews, 505 favorites and 601 follows (that's the one good thing about taking a freaking three week long break, we actually reached the number I was talking about last chapter)**

 **See you around next time.**


	37. Past, Future, Present

**Chapter 37. Past, Future, Present**

* * *

 **5\. May 2408 AD, Mindoir, Zhao County**

Seeing the sky of Mindoir dotted with clouds of smoke rightfully inspired a sense of deja-vu in him. He had been here before, the colony had lived through an attack like this seven years ago. The last time batarian forces had tried and failed to take the colony should've thought them better. They should've known not to try the same strategy twice. While the invasion force had been numerous enough to allow some ships to slip past their own naval vessels, the transports that had managed to touch down had soon found out that the army had learned from their previous encounter. After the initial shock had worn off Mindoir's Colonial Watch had shown its teeth. Within the first two days of the battle batarian naval support had abandoned the slavers and a mere four days after setting foot on the planet with the intention of conquest their chain of command had been shattered, their biggest troop concentrations had been encircled and their hopes of victory extinguished. Five days after the invasion had begun the batarian forces had run into a severe supply shortage following the destruction of their logistical units at the hands of human special forces and had either faced annihilation, capture or had tried to flee from the planet with whatever transports still remained, only to meet their demise at the hands of the HSA's navy.

Yet in spite of their allies making a run for it, a week into the fighting the Blood Pack still made its stand on Mindoir, digging its claws deep into a railway station and refusing to give in to whatever the Colonial Watch threw at them. Unlike batarians, they were hard to starve out. Krogan could go for weeks without water or food before feeling the effects and somehow he knew that something as 'harmless' as dehydration wouldn't kill a vorcha. The public bunkers under the station allowed the Blood Pack to simply wait out orbital strikes and ground attacks through the tunnels had proven to become fatal the moment army regulars got within the favoured range of the krogan. Furthermore the two armored assaults into the area that had actually resulted in something akin to a success had also been both slow and costly, the tank wrecks he had passed on the way to this building serving as a painful reminder as to why Mindoir Command had finally decided to deploy one of the more questionable weapons within the HSA's arsenal on the last stronghold.

"Last one's making a run for it," the man next to him muttered as he lowered the rangefinder from his eye for a few seconds, revealing just how sleep deprived he really was. "Wind's still the same, distance is four fiftfy and growing. Doesn't look like he's going for cover."

"They don't learn, do they?" he replied while turning the small knob at the side of his rifle ever so slightly, the image of a figure dropping a heavy looking and probably incredibly expensive missile launcher before breaking into a sprint now completely clear. The alien was fast, he'd give him that much, but not even a feral vorcha could outrun a bullet.

"Nope."

"Stupid bastards," the ASOC officer muttered before squeezing the trigger just hard enough to cause a weapon's discharge.

With the recoil mostly absorbed by the armor on his shoulder, he barely felt the consequences of shooting the lone vorcha in the back. The bullet left the muzzle of the sniper rifle and tore through the fresh morning air, flying across the destroyed town, passing over damaged homes and alien corpses right until it connected with the spine of the mercenary, exploding upon contact. The sudden and violent separation of the brain from the rest of the body caused whatever remained of the slaver to stumble a few more steps forward before falling onto the hard pavement, joining the rest of his unit in death and in turn solving one more of Tore Haugen's problems.

"Confirmed hit, Phantom-Lead," the voice of Hofmann came to him through the earpiece he was wearing, temporarily muffling the distant artillery explosions, "we're not seeing any more targets in the area. That was the last team, over."

"Alright, I'll call it in, pack your things and make your way to the rally point, Phantom-Lead out," he whispered and flicked the safety of the sniper rifle back into place. Reaching for the radio next to him with the intention of changing the channel, a, aching sensation crawled through his back. Lying in the same position for ten hours was hardly his favorite past time but no matter how much he disliked, armed reconnaissance was one of ASOC's specialties. "Firefly, this is Phantom. Your skies is clear, over."

"Copy that, Phantom," it crackled through the radio as the distinctive howling of engines grew, revealing that the squadrons had already begun their approach. Not a second later his radio began receiving a transmission on an open channel, "Everyone on the ground, hold onto your horses down there, dropping Mark 79s now. "

As soon as the words had left the confines of his radio, an unearthly roar shot above them. Several fast movers shot over their heads and made their way into the direction of the distant battle, their shapes growing smaller with every second. When the pilots passed over the area and dropped the cannisters attached to their fighters, the remnants of Blood Pack still holed up in the abandoned train station were subjected to what could best be described as a hellish inferno. The moment the cannisters unleashed their payload on the former mercenaries an eery silence began to settle, the sound of distant suppressive fire dying down as soon as the flames swallowed everything in their path, burning whatever the human guns had fired at to ash. In a way it was a horrifying image but fire was one of the most effective weapons when fighting vorcha and krogan. It kept them from regenerating, an evolutionary trait that had turned out to be very useful in the prolonged engagements that had occured over the past days. While every human that was even moderately injured had to be removed from the battlefield sooner than later, every single enemy that wasn't outright killed or heavily crippled would be back in the fight not two days later. For that reason the deployment of Mark 79 Hibanas had been their most viable option.

"Holy shit," his companion muttered as the actual effects of the weapon kicked in. After the initial explosion of the bombs, the chemically fueled flames expanded in every direction, depleting the entire area of oxygen and filling the sky with a layer of white smoke. The attackers that had managed to avoid incineration up to now would soon find themselves suffocating and the handful of them that somehow lasted through air deprivation wouldn't be able to resist the HSA much longer.

It was a cruel way to finish things, he knew that, but it was a victory nonetheless.

"Good splash, Firefly. Hibanas working in full effect, " a voice most likely belonging to a forward air controller spoke over the open channel all HSA units in the area received. "Station's burning, over."

Haugen turned away from the effects of the incendiary bombs, praying to whatever deity currently watching over Mindoir that the city block around the station had been cleared of human civilians beforehand. He pushed himself to his feet, picked up the sniper rifle and collapsed its stock before slinging it over his back, favoring his SR-8 for the way back. Lightly kicking his foot against the back of his fellow ASOC operative, Haugen nodded towards the stairs they had used to get up here in the first place after quickly checking over his rifle.

"Come on, Miller, you don't need to watch this," he told the soldier, having a rather solid idea of what was going through his head right about now. "Our job here's done."

Looking at the growing firestorm for a few more seconds, the man finally rose to his feet as well, shaking his head at the distant destruction and contemplating his role in it. Hadn't Haugen himself seen how the slavers that had raided Mindoir the last time had treated their captives, he might have felt the same emotions currently surfacing inside his comrade, that confusing mixture of pride and pity which crept up in most soldiers when they stopped to think about the implications of their success. But the images of the last invasion were still edged into his mind and would very likely remain in it until the end of his life, he couldn't claim to feel anything but a sense of relief upon successfully finishing his assignment. The Blood Pack had brought this upon themselves.

Walking towards the stairway, the pair of operatives began their several minute long descend through the ravaged financial district tower, passing by the same corpse they had already encountered on their way towards their observation point. Looking at the blood-covered elderly man, the sharp metal spike that had taken his life still embedded in the center of his neck, Tore knelt down and now took the time to close the man's eyes, a gesture he hadn't found the time for on their way up. While he couldn't bring him back to live, a part of him figured that he'd done his best to avenge the man. Batarian regulars didn't use the kind of weapon that had taken this life, that particularly crude gun was favoured by the Blood Pack.

Rising to his feet with a grunt, he decided that there was nothing else he could do. Carrying the corpse back to the base was neither his job nor was it a sensible decision, the man would have to wait for search and recovery parties until he could find his peace. Once more bringing up his rifle, just in case a lone enemy had somehow found his way into the building, the captain and his subordinate continued their journey until they reached the lobby of the building. Ignoring the destruction around them, they made their way outside and into the direction of the rally point, carefully maneuvering through the deserted streets of Zhao County, a subdivision of one of Mindoir's bigger cities and the last refuge of the slavers that had attempted to take the planet.

"Phantom-Lead, this is Phantom-Two. We're on site, how copy? Over," Hofmann's voice rang through the radio inside his helmet as Haugen passed by the damaged remains of a Kodiak, a quick look inside confirming that it was devoid of life, only the blood spattered on the seats and empty medigel syringes next to it giving any indication as to what had occurred inside the craft.

"Good copy. We're four minutes out," he muttered while the pair kept advancing, paying close attention to their surroundings. As far as Mindoir Command was concerned, they were still inside enemy occupied territory, meaning that the chance of encountering enemy stragglers was still very much existent. The two soldiers kept pushing forward right until both of them came to a sudden halt, the audible cracking of glass causing both of them to press themselves to the bullet riddled wall of the apartment building next to them, trying to locate the source of the noise before accidentally stumbling into an ambush. After scanning the windows directly opposite to them and finding no gunman whatsoever, the two operatives shared a look.

"I think that came from right above us, Sir," Miller spoke as Haugen nodded towards him. With the press of a button, their optical camouflage began to surround them and he took a step away from the wall, aiming his rifle at the windows above them, expecting to find a lone vorcha ready to kill him. But instead of finding the beige face of one of the aliens, he found nothing. For a brief moment his eyes darted to the part of his HUD that displayed just how far away the rendezvous point still was, considering to ignore the noise and instead link up with the rest of Phantom Squad. While the whole way would've been too much of a strain on the technology, they could remain hidden for the little distance that now remained.

That notion died the moment the door of the apartment was torn open, a scaly four-legged reptilian creature wearing a collar he had previously seen on batarian slaves jumping towards his fellow ASOC operative with lethal intend. Even before Haugen began moving his SR-8 over the rapidly moving creature, which presumably had simply smelled his comrade, it already started biting at his companion, only the optical camouflage keeping Miller from being mauled to death. Pulling the trigger while the soldier did his best to keep the varren's maw as far away from his throat as possible, the first burst of full metal jackets merely embedded themselves into the shoulder of the animal, only managing to anger it. Whether through the training of its masters or simply through being far more intelligent that its behaviour would indicate, the large lizard recognized Haugen as the bigger danger of the two soldiers. Jumping of the man on he ground, the beast now leapt towards Tore who barely managed to dodge its attack. Missing his throat by mere inches, the varren landed on his feet just as the captain was ready to finish things. Trying to turn back to its invisible prey, the dark-blue creature managed to get within biting distance of the ghostly figure just as Haugen centered his aim on its face. Pulling the trigger just before he could be thrown to the ground, a single SR-8 round drilled its way through the skull of the varren. Instead of tearing apart his throat, the batarian war beast died on the spot, its blood gushing from the small but fatal hole between its two large, orange eyes.

"You alright over there, Miller?" he asked while keeping his rifle trained on the dead creature, halfway expecting it to come back to life just to spite them. When several seconds passed without an answer, he turned around to check on his comrade, finding the spot he had previously been in unoccupied. "Miller?"

"Goddammit," he heard from both the squad intercom and the inside of the building.

"What is it?" Haugen replied before slowly walking towards the entrance, his eyes still trained on the very much deceased varren. Turning around upon reaching the door, the first thing he spotted was his decloaking comrade leaning on a reception desk, staring at something just outside of his field of vision.

"See for yourself," the man muttered once his camo had disappeared and a few steps later Haugen realised what he was referring to. Looking at a small cctv monitor labeled 'basement', the captain saw at least a dozen more varren pacing around a small room. How they had gotten there wasn't a question he could answer but what they had done down there was evident in spite of the poor condition the camera was in. Judging by how many gnawed corpses he could make out from here, the bodies of at least eight different people were spread out across the room. In retrospective it was a small miracle that the gunfire hadn't attracted them. Maybe they were too distracted with whatever it was that they were doing to notice that one of their own hadn't returned yet.

Still they had to make sure these varren didn't hurt anyone else.

Staring at the human remains for a few more seconds, he himself deactivated his optical camoflague and reached for the grenades attached to his chestrigging, a look to Miller sufficing in conveying his plan. The two soldiers, a grenade in each hand, slowly crept towards the basement and upon reaching the stairway leading towards the varren nest Haugen himself risked a glance around the corner, making out a slightly smaller lizard wearing a similar collar like the one he had already killed.

"Ready?" he asked as his thumb hovered over the grenade's primer. Miller gave a single nod and held up his own two explosive devices. "Execute."

Smashing the primer a bit harder than necessary, his own two small cylinders left his hands and flew towards the center of the room, hitting the ground just before the second pair. Lifting his rifle to his shoulder, he counted the detonations.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Spinning around the doorway, Haugen and Miller shot down the stairs, ready to fire at any varren that had survived their ambush. When the smoke settled and nothing had jumped them, he looked around. Only one of the creatures at the edge of the room had survived and if the blood surrounding it was any indication, it wouldn't last much longer.

"Want me to put it down?" Miller asked while he began scanning the room as well.

"Save the bullets," he countered as he began moving, stepping past one of the mauled corpses.

"My side's clear," he heard from behind him right as he spotted an anomaly within the room, the badly injured batarian looking right back at him, his hands pressed against an injury on his leg, dark-red blood slowly dripping from the wound and forming a puddle around him.

"I've got one," he in turn said, his sights centered on the alien, waiting for him to make a move for the pistol next to him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Will you accept my surrender, human?" the alien asked, not making a move for the weapon, apparently familiar with laws HSA military personal was bound by.

"I thought the batarians pulled out days ago?" Miller from behind him, moving to get a clear shot.

"They left in a hurry, makes sense they'd forget some of their own," the captain replied, ignoring the slaver's question for now. Had he stumbled upon the corpses or was he the reason everyone in this room was dead? Haugen somehow doubted that he'd get a direct reply from the injured batarian.

"I need medical attention," the batarian grumbled, his voice both deep and weak. "I already lost a lot of blood. Help me."

"Why the hell didn't the varren eat him aswell," Miller wondered as Haugen himself remained focused on the batarian's hands, halfway hoping that he'd try to go for a weapon.

"No idea, some kind of tech maybe?" Haugen replied, remembering the collars. "How come you're alive, batarian? Why didn't they tear you to shreds?"

"The varren only eat what I tell them to eat."

"So you're responsible for this," Haugen muttered while nodding behind him. As the eyes of the slaver narrowed ever so slightly, he got the answer he was already expecting. Lowering his rifle ever so slightly for a moment and giving the batarian no further reply whatsoever, he looked at Miller, noticing that the man's finger was already inching towards the trigger of his rifle. Shaking his head at him for now, the operative paused.

The HSA's rules of engagement were clear. An enemy that surrendered to them had a right to both medical attention and safety. Under no circumstances could they hurt a prisoner, no matter how much he deserved it. Killing this batarian would be a war crime. Yet in spite of that he knew that he'd very likely get away with doing it. Whether it was the small nod Miller gave him or the knowledge that helmetcam footage sometimes got corrupted during prolonged missions, he was convinced that no one, neither his commander, let alone the public would ever hear a single word about this batarian from either of them. No one would know if he had pulled the trigger.

"So, will you stand there and watch me bleed out," the batarian spoke up again, the lack of remorse evident in his voice. "kill me or get me to a medic?"

But he wasn't a war criminal. Even if no one else would ever know that he had shot an unarmed, injured batarian, he'd know and that alone was more than enough of a reason not to do it.

"I'm not going to kill you," Haugen replied, causing the batarian to smirk right until the wheezing of the heavily injured varren behind Haugen drew the attention of the slaver. Seeing the small, badly bleeding lizard struggling to get on its feet after removing the broken collar around its neck, Haugen looked at the gun on the batarian's side before making his decision, tilting his head to the right in the process and earning the alien's glare as a result. "Can't promise the same for him though. Let's go, Miller. Hofmann's waiting."

"You can't just leave me here!" he heard as they began to walk up the stairs. That wasn't quite right either. Being part of a special operations outfit meant that they could decide if they'd actually detain someone or simply leave them to their own devices. The reasoning behind giving ASOC and N7 this kind of leeway was that taking a prisoner could potentially jeopardize their mission which always took priority. The shouts of the batarian only stopped moments before they closed the door, the lone gunshot echoing through the basement behind them offering no explanation as to who had triumphed over whom.

Leaving the building without checking the monitor to see if the varren had done the deed, Haugen only slowed down to somewhat explain the delay to Hofmann, quickly summarizing their encounter with the varren but choosing to leave the batarian out of the story. When the two ASOC operatives finally reached the rally point, the rest of Phantom Squad had already been waiting for nearly fifteen minutes and by the looks of it used the delay to call in a more comfortable way of extraction.

"A Kodiak? Seriously?" he asked while walking towards Hofmann who was leaning against the exterior of the still hovering shuttle.

"We cleared the area, might as well reap the fruits of our labour for once, right?" the sergeant shrugged as they climbed inside. "Beats walking any day of the week."

Holding onto the slings at the ceiling of the crew compartment, Haugen felt the Kodiak take off once the final ASOC operative had made his way inside. Reaching for his radio, the captain quickly called in their success, expecting to be redeployed into another conflict zone at a moments notice. To say that it surprised him when his commanding officer ordered Phantom Squad back to an FOB instead would be an understatement. He dropped down into one of the seats of the Kodiak, removed his helmet and ran a hand through his sweaty blonde hair, the lack of activity now exposing just how exhausted he actually was. Spinning the piece of armor in his hands for a few times, he let his head hang down and took the time to look at the picture attached to the inside of the helmet, the reason he always had to make his way home looking back at him. Hopefully the FOB had something akin to a communications array.

By now his wife was probably worried sick, even a small text message saying that he was alright would mean the world to her. While he didn't like doing this to her, it was simply a part of the life he had chosen. Besides, he'd rather have her worry about him than the other way around, even if it was somewhat selfish. Luckily for him half the navy, hundreds of light years, several million servicemen and two billion justifiably pissed off Terra Novans stood between her and the batarians. He liked those odds.

"You alright, Sir?" Hofmann's voice tore him from his thoughts like it tended to do in the quiet moments.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he nodded.

"While you were busy playing fetch with varren, I managed to get a sitrep from command," the sergeant said while undoing the seals of his own helmet, placing the piece of armor on the empty seat next to him. "Interested?"

"You know the answer to that," he nodded. "Let's hear it."

"Alright, the good news first," the sergeant began."Yesterday Elysium Command annulled Saber-One, their planet is officially clear of enemies. The Colonial Watch is digging in and everyone else is getting ready to take the fight to the batarians, at least the ones still around. While we were liberating Zhao County, the navy began its counterattack."

"How did it go?"

"Since they were flying side by side with the Hierarchy for most of it, far better than expected. Most colonies the batarians took are already back in our hands, apparently the Hegemony realised that they weren't winning the important battles and decided to cut their losses. A few worlds closer to batarian space are still under their control but everything between here and Camelot is back under our control."

"Sounds good," Haugen replied before sighing. "And the bad news?"

"Before they ditched they took thousands of people," the sergeant muttered. "HSAIS is saying that they're holding them as leverage but I think we both know that a lot of them will end up on the slaver market."

"How many thousands are we talking? Worse than Mindoir?"

"Far worse. I've heard nothing concrete but the intelligence officer I spoke to said that they consider at least one hundred thousand people missing and that's only one the worlds we took back. A bunch of the colonies they hit were in the early stages of development, just a bunch of pioneers without serious protection. The slightly older ones had at least a bunch of soldiers to rely on but the really new ones? They didn't stand a chance at holding out."

He didn't even bother to think what kind of impact that would have on the enthusiastic expansionism mankind had practiced up to now. People would be far less likely to pack their things up and settle a new frontier if their predecessors had ended up in chains.

"Please tell me you're done with the bad news," he chuckled darkly, the expression of Hofmann already telling him there was still one more thing he had to say. "Alright, spit it out. Let's get this over with."

"From what I heard, the chancellor is trying to push a ceasefire the moment we've got our worlds back. She's been negotiating with the parliament for days about it," the sergeant explained as Haugen raised an eyebrow. "If she manages to convince the majority, we won't be seeing Khar'shan any time soon."

"Why the hell would they do that?" Miller, who had listened to the conversation quietly up to now injected, the angry tone in his voice giving both Hofmann and Haugen a good indication as to how he felt about that particular move.

"Damned if I know," Hofmann shrugged before growing more serious. "Maybe they don't fancy the idea of sending millions of us into a fucking meatgrinder. Fine by me really."

"And here I was thinking you were looking forward to having breakfast in Chairman Amon's mansion," Haugen replied dryly.

"Batarian food is way too spicy for my liking," the man smirked. "Respectfully, Sir, that shit isn't worth dying for on any day of the week." Having seen what batarians considered food, he could agree with that notion.

"There's something else, right?" he realised as Hofmann kept looking at him. "Didn't I tell you to spit it out?"

"It's not exactly bad news."

"Well?"

"The Union set its military in motion as well, meaning that if they hurry up we might be seeing salarians on the frontlines by the end of next week."

"Why wouldn't more allies be good news?" the captain frowned.

"The last time the salarians fought a war, they kind of talked the turians into committing genocide. I wouldn't call that good news, Sir."

"I wouldn't mind releasing a genophage on those bastards, God knows they deserve it," Miller injected. The ASOC officer could tell that their encounter with the varren had left a similar impact on Miller as the previous invasion of Mindor had left on himself. He got it, he really did, the batarians made it very easy to hate them and at times, he couldn't deny that he felt similar to the younger operative but that didn't mean he agreed with the notion of genocide.

"Miller?" he spoke, turning to look at him.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Shut up, alright?"

"Roger that, Sir."

* * *

 **12\. May 2408 AD, HSASV Hannibal Barca, Crewdeck**

Wiggling the pen in her hand, she knew that she should be happy that she wasn't currently being shot at, that's what the rational part of her mind told her. However in spite of considering herself a logical person, Emily Shepard found herself hoping for a mission or anything that would remotely resemble further development of the situation. As things were, her entire expeditionary force was stuck on naval ships, remaining on standby ever since leaving Elysium and slowly but surely the waiting was becoming worse than the actual fighting she had seen on the planet.

If the rumors were true, their current activity, or rather lack thereof, was rooted in the government's reluctance to push deep into batarian core territory. While she appreciated the concern the parliament showed for the lives of their troops, delaying things would only make the casualties worse. With every day they spent waiting the Batarian Hegemony fortified its worlds more and eventually not even the support of the turian military, which up to now had played a crucial role in the swift reclamation of several human colonies, would be able to prevent this war from turning into a slow grind and in turn costing hundreds of millions of lives.

Or maybe even more than that.

As part of the process of becoming an officer, she had learned about how devastating the Siege of Horizon had been, sat through lecture after lecture listening to seasoned commanders explaining why the invasion of a densly populated planet was the absolute worst case scenario for the marine corps. The highly urbanized terrain of large, developed worlds was a challenge in itself already but the fact that for every enemy soldier there were dozens if not hundreds of civilians made it even worse. The majority of people that had been killed during the most destructive battle of human history had been civilians and if her limited knowledge of batarian society was anything to go by, the Hegemony wouldn't go through nearly the same amount of effort that both the HSA and admittedly the IFS had put into keeping non-combatants out of the line of fire.

No, that was an understatement. The ruling caste of the batarian people would do the polar opposite of that.

Although military service in the Hegemony's military was restricted by their rigid caste system, she agreed with the longstanding military theory that the Chairman would at least conscript the majority of batarian slaves the moment the situation grew desperate enough, a Council invasion of Khar'shan very likely meeting that definition. While some people native to Horizon had joined the IFSDF regulars in the defense of Horizon, a fight on larger batarian worlds would resemble the ground engagements the krogan had fought against the Turian Hierarchy more closely, albeit that the turians that had once more taken up arms to defend their homes against alien invaders had enjoyed far more combat training than the batarian slaves they'd be facing at every corner once they made planetfall. Shepard had seen a few pictured of the cities the lower castes and slaves inhabited, fighting in the sprawling slums would be nothing short of a nightmare, especially if they gave them the time to turn every shanty into a small fortress, something they were currently doing.

Groaning in frustration, Shepard realised that she was rambling for the sake of delaying the choice she had been fighting with for the better part of the last hour. Looking at the mostly complete transfer form in front of her before once more rotating the pen in her hand, the dotted line asking for her signature still taunted her with every passing moment it remained empty. When Major Ramos had told her that she had made quite an impression, she had assumed that he was talking about some sort of combat award or maybe a small promotion, she didn't even consider that he was talking about something bigger than that.

Never would she have thought that someone would actually forward an N7 commendation to her.

This shouldn't have been such a hard call, she joined up to make a difference and this would be the place to do so. Yet she couldn't shake the thought of the kind of commitment the N7 program actually was. The navy gave the best to its special forces but in return they also demanded nothing but the best. If they sent an N7 unit, they expected to success, no matter the cost. N7s had to be able to reduce human lives to something that was spent to achieve an objective, make death a currency. A few months ago she would've simply called the kind of mindset the navy expected from their best a consequence of their training and their dedication to the mission, she had thought of it as an acquired skill. Now that she knew just what it was like to see people die around her, she began to question that view.

Before Elysium, she hadn't known what it meant to lose the people one was responsible for, to see marines she had lived with for the better part of two years die around her was something she would never forget. Would she be able to see the same thing happen over and over again or would it eventually devour her piece by piece to the point where she wouldn't recognize herself when looking into the mirror? What if she actually started to reduce the people under her command to mere pieces that could be used to gain an advantage? Would she even want to look at herself if that happened?

No, she couldn't think like that. She knew what it was the she was currently doing and it wasn't a good thing. The fear of the unknown was getting the better of her, clouding her judgment more with every hint of doubt. Faith in the chain of command was something marines learned early on, it ensured that they got the job done and came back to tell the tale. Someone obviously had enough faith in her to grant her this opportunity, if she didn't take it due to being afraid of what she might become, she'd regret it for the rest of her life. Besides, it was up to her to decide what kind of person she wanted to be. Emily believed that she could make a difference and she believed that she wouldn't lose sight of who she was along the way, no matter what the universe threw at her.

She wouldn't allow fear to rule her.

Looking at the stylized 'N7' stamped onto the corner of the form for a final time, she placed the pen on the line and wrote down her name, watching the blue ink dry for a few moments. Even if it had been surprisingly hard to get it there, now that her name was actually written onto the sheet of paper, it felt right and at the end of the day doing the right thing was the best anyone could hope for.

The right choice was never the easy one though was it?

Sighing, she closed the pen and placed it on the desk, holding the piece of paper into the air and reading over its contents for a final time. The moment she turned it in, she'd be enrolled into the 'Naval Interplanetary Combatives Training', being put into the next available class once the currently stagnant war she was a part of ended. She had heard stories about the seven training phases and the sheer endurance required to pull through the infamous 'Crucible' but in spite of her previous hesitation and the picture those stories painted, she very much found herself looking forward to it now that she had actually signed it.

The human mind was indeed a very strange thing at times.

Throwing her arms into the air, Shepard took a look at the clock on her right. Apparently deciding one's future was an effective way to pass time. Maybe she should simply start making life changing decisions until the Hannibal Barca was removed from stand-by, if this last ordeal was anything to go by the war would be over before she had even decided on what colour her retirement home should have. Folding the transfer form, she decided to drop it off immediately, it wasn't like she had anything better to do anyway. She pushed her chair away from the desk, got up and walked out of the room that she had called home for the last week, her intended target being her unit's commander. As with a great many number of things, the transfer form would move up the chain of command through him.

Reading the room numbers in search of the 'office' of Captain Kendrick, Emily idly wondered just where her parents or more specifically her father currently was. While her mother was in charge of a cruiser patrolling somewhere on the 'northern' edge of Council territory and had already checked in with her once she had heard about her deeds on Elysium, the whereabouts of her dad where questionable at best. She was more than certain that he was keeping tabs on both of them but given the nature of his work, finding out where he was and what he was currently doing was next to impossible. Even if she was the one technically fighting on the frontlines, she couldn't help but worry about her father. Section 13 had a knack for finding the most dangerous places to be in at any given time and deciding to go there either way. Given what she had seen on Elysium, she didn't like those odds.

Deciding that she'd rather not follow through with that line of work, she returned her focus on the room numbers, barely noticing the upcoming intersection and only coming to a stop when she saw something she was about to collide in the corner of her eye. Turning her head to see just who she had almost bumped into, she took a few seconds to actually recognize the man standing directly in front of her before taking a step back and once more creating something akin to space between them.

"Hey, you're looking better," she said after it finally clicked. "Leng, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the N7 replied, sounding very differently from when he had been on the verge of bleeding out. As expected, having all of his blood back had done his voice a favour. Awkwardly folding his hands behind his back, Shepard waited for Leng to say something else, not quite sure what was going through his head at the moment. "I feel like I own you an apology, Ma'am" he finally mumbled.

"You what?" she doubled back, raising an eyebrow. "What for?"

"The way I acted in the tunnel," he explained, "I wasn't just out of line, Lieutenant," he emphasized the later part,"I was wrong. If you hadn't talked some sense into me, we would've lost the battle."

She remembered the moment he was referring to. When Emily had initially stumbled over the N7, who at that point had been the lone survivor of his team, he hadn't placed a lot of faith in her ability to retrieve a detonator, wanting her to give up her rifle and turn around while he charged back into the breach. Only after a short but still rather heated discussion had she managed to convince him that only together they'd have a somewhat reasonable chance at success.

"You came through, didn't you?" she countered, hoping to ease whatever guilt the Petty Officer was still feeling over the incident. However instead of achieving that, the special forces soldier once more seemed to lock up, his expression stiff. "Listen Leng, don't waste time thinking about the ifs. We won, that's what counts."

Silently standing opposite to each other, the N7's face finally shifted into something akin to curiosity after spotting the piece of paper in her hands and somehow either recognizing or simply guessing its origin. "Going to N-School?" he nodded towards the transfer form.

"How did you-?" she began only to be interrupted.

"Educated guess. Completing an N7 mission is kind of a big deal," he explained, lighting up ever so slightly. "Go figure that someone back in Rio would like to see what happens when they unlock your full potential."

"When?" she chuckled, "More like if. Unless I'm mistaken, not a whole lot of people actually finish N7 training."

"Didn't you just tell me not to think about ifs?" the man offered. "The fact that you got invited to Rio already says a lot Ma'am. It means that someone who's been through N-School thinks you've got what it takes. That's way different from the people who apply on their own accord without a recommendation," Leng went on before actually looking at her for longer than a split second and making her wonder in which of the two categories he belonged. "You'll be fine."

"Speaking of fine," she realised when another wheel in her head finally clicked. While medical technology was advanced, two weeks were a very short timeframe to fully recover from the kind of injuries the Petty Officer had received on Elysium. "How come you're already walking again? Shouldn't you be in bed or something? You were hit pretty bad."

"I didn't become an N7 to lie in bed all day and I'll be damned if this war ends before I get some payback," Leng replied before cracking a small but much appreciated smile. "Talked the doctors into giving me painkillers and sending me off so they can take care of other patients."

"I'm not sure if I admire the resolve or worry about the stubbornness," she admitted.

"Once you're past a certain threshold of general agony, they're basically the same thing, you'll learn that in Rio."

"When you phrase it like that I can't help but look forward to the experience. Ever considered becoming a recruiter when you're done with special operations?" That earned her a small chuckle, something she'd rate as progress considering how this unscheduled encounter had begun. Since she had nothing else to do, she would've had no problem with continuing their little chat for longer but upon seeing her CO leave his room in the distance, Emily realised that she'd have to cut things short for now. "But before I can go to Rio, I'll have to drop this off," she explained while holding up the paper.

"Don't let me stop you, Ma'am," the man stepped aside once he noticed that she was looking at someone behind him.

"I'll be seeing you around, Petty Officer," she called after moving past him.

"Aye, aye."

* * *

 **18\. May 2408 AD, Camelot, Colonial Watch Headquarters**

"You'd think they would've found them by now, it's not like there are that many that actually fit the bill," Daniel Morneau sighed, looking at yet another suspicious candidate in the process. When they had been sent to Camelot on short notice, spending nearly a week going through highly superficial POW reports hadn't been the kind of assignment he had pictured. Instead of trailing a high value target, preventing a terrorist attack or crossing off some high ranking batarian officer, they had spent hours upon hours with the rather uneventful task of trying to figure out which of these 'lowborn', members of the caste that served as the rank and file of the batarian military but also filled roles such as cooks, technicians and nurses, were in fact part of the SIU. Following an incident during which several batarians previously listed as low-priority individuals had turned out to be members of the Special Intervention Unit before committing suicide by guard instead of facing interrogation, HSAIS had dispatched the two specialists to the planet in hopes of getting their hands on a living SIU operative. This way they might learn learning how the elite formation had managed to cause Cerberus that much trouble.

"They had to stay subtle. SIU are fanatics, they'd die to keep their secrets. If they catch wind of us doing this, they'll get some grunt to shoot them or throw themselves in front of a truck or do god knows what to avoid interrogation," Yo-yo replied from the other end of the room, equally occupied with searching through suspect dossiers that met the description they had gotten. According to Cerberus field intelligence, however reliable that might be considering the circumstances under which they extracted the information, they were looking for either a group of or one batarian female, which was a surprise in itself considering that the Hegemony's military usually excluded women from combat roles. Adding to that, they had enjoyed years of combat training, presumably undergone some sort of gene therapy and most importantly lived in far better conditions than the other lowborn batarians, meaning that upon closer investigation they'd eventually stand out.

"They could've at least cleared out the most obvious ones," he yawned while skipping the file of a nurse far too malnourished to survive going hand-to-hand with anything but a volus. "I'm slowly getting sick of looking at nothing but four-eyed women all day."

"Why? Batarians aren't your type?" his fellow specialist chuckled as she briefly looked up behind her own terminal.

"Nope, blondes are."

"Obviously."

"Hey, what's that supposed to me-," he was about to retort when something about the file in front of him made him take an even closer look. Staring at the side shot of a reddish batarian, he noticed that the woman had a a faint but still visible scar reaching from the side of her neck to the base of her skull. Rubbing the back of his head in a awfully similar spot and feeling the small L3 implant that allowed him to actually make use of his biotic powers, he transferred the file to his partner. "Yo-yo, do me a solid and take a look at this one."

"That's an amp, isn't it?" she replied after opening the file and spotting what he was referring to.

"Yep," he nodded. "Since you're the more cultured one of us, remind me what the odds are of the Hegemony actually giving a non-combat lowborn woman an amp?"

"Pretty damn low," Yo-yo muttered before pressing a series of buttons on her terminal and reaching out to the military police officer in charge of the site holding all batarian prisoners of war. "Major, we've got a likely positive, prisoner 118-A-29. Goes by the name of Jarna Dal'Serah and is being held in Block A."

"Likely positive? Can you be more specific, Specialist Young? We need more than a hunch."

"She's got a biotic amplifier even though she's listed as a cook. Is that good enough for you?"

"Yes," it came back through the speakers after a few moments. "I'll make the necessary preparations to subdue her, get a Kodiak and make your way to the site."

"Understood, we'll be there in ten," Young replied and the moment the line closed Morneau put his own terminal aside and practically shot up from his chair, the prospect of leaving behind the artificial light and stale air more than enough to wake him up.

"So, what's our plan once we actually got the SIU operative?" he asked on his way to the door, stopping only to grab the pistol holster from his footlocker before stepping out of the room and into the hallway of Camelot's military nerve center. "If they actually go through gene therapy, it's not impossible that their bodies react differently to the truth serum."

"I figured we'd just try talking for a change," his partner shrugged on their way to the outside of the base, the cold evening air brushing against his face being an unpleasant but welcome change. There wasn't much else they could do, until they had enough information to put the serum to the test by asking their target about things they already knew, the tactic usually employed to tell if the drug was working as intended, they couldn't know for sure that they weren't being lied to. Unlike with previously tested groups like humans, regular batarians, salarians or asari, everything the SIU operative would tell them under the drug's influence couldn't be considered a hard fact. For all they knew, the modifications could've included a resistance to the chemicals or trigger the same kind of hallucinations most volus experienced upon receiving a large enough dose.

"You really think she'll want to talk?" Morneau said once they reached the closest shuttle, its engines already spinning up before they even climbed inside.

"There's only one way to figure that out," Yo-yo reasoned before sitting down.

Lapsing into silence as the shuttle began its short flight, it didn't take long until the prison that served as the home of a good portion of the roughly twenty thousand batarians that had been captured following their defeat on Camelot came into view. Situated on one of the smaller islands off the coast of the archipelago that was the home to most of Camelot's seventy million inhabitants, the small security fence surrounding the perimeter wasn't the prison's main countermeasure to prevent escapes. Any of the prisoners being held on the island would not only have to somehow slip past the considerable military presence he could already see as the shuttle made its approach, they'd also somehow have to traverse the cold and deep waters around them and avoid encountering the deadly predators living in them in the process. Beyond the fence, rows of prefabs served as the homes of the prisoners, lowborn batarians who had either been unable to reach an evacuation point or hadn't been considered important enough to be rescued in the first place.

How and why an SIU team was among them was a question he couldn't answer.

As the shuttle got even closer to the island, the waves breaking on the steep cliffs below them, he could see the part of the island they were headed for. It was secluded from the rest of the prison and if the IFVs, shuttles, armed guards and guard towers were any indication, it served as the garrison of the island. Realising that the shuttle was already making its landing approach, Morneau let go of the sling he had been holding onto and opened the door of the crew compartment, as a result being the first to be greeted by the icy winds apparently common in this region.

As if an ocean full of sea monsters wasn't enough of a reason for him never to come back here in the first place.

The two specialists jumped out of the shuttle the moment it was low enough and Yo-yo immediately went for her omni-tool. "Major Caldwell, we're on site and ready to assist you in detaining the target."

"That won't be necessary, we already got her. She's waiting for you in the administrative hub, Interrogation Room C."

Sharing a look, both specialists wondered how exactly the army had managed to subdue a biotic SIU operative but decided against questioning things going in their favour. If it made their job easier, they'd take it. Reasoning that the biggest of the makeshift buildings around them had to be the administrative hub of the place, the pair set out to the collection of stacked prefabs in front of them. Once inside, it became evident that the HSA was preparing for a rather long stay in the islands. Besides staff members, security guards and communication technicians, dozens of engineers were still in the process of turning the linked living units into something akin to an actual building.

He could see what they were doing. There was now way for the HSA to know how long it would take before they could sent the batarians that were actual soldiers, not slavers, home. Even with human and turian fleets waiting just a few relay jumps away from Khar'shan and HSA probes, carrying the suggestion of a permanent armistice, regularly being sent into batarian space, it was impossible to tell when the Hegemony would realise that they couldn't take on half the galaxy and come out on top. Given their past track record, it was wise to prepare for a long wait.

Passing by a series of similar looking rooms, it was Yo-yo who spotted Caldwell first. Standing in front of a reinforced door and accompanied by two guards, the man waved them over. "We have her restrained and she should be waking up any time soon," he informed them once they were close enough.

"Waking up?" his partner asked. "From what?"

"We flooded her barracks with an odorless knockout gas, was the only way to be sure she'd be out cold," at least they had gotten an explanation as to how they had subdued her now. "We also took the liberty of muffling her biotics for the time being so you won't have to worry about that either. Just contact me if you need anything else. I'll be in the command central."

"Understood."

Giving them a final nod, the officer walked away without another word just as the dark-haired specialist placed his hand on the locking mechanism. Usually they knew at least something about the person they were about to interrogate but given the unusual circumstances of this missions and all the unknowns surrounding the Special Intervention Unit, improvising was just about the only thing they could do. Instead of trying to come up with a plan that could as easily backfire as succeed, he did what both he and Yo-yo knew he was good at.

Improvising.

Unlocking the door without further delay, the two specialists stepped into the brightly lit room and, just like Caldwell had said, found a batarian woman in restraints in front of them. However contrary to the Major's short briefing, the presumed SIU operative was not on the verge of waking. She was wide awake and not even bothering to put up an act, four dark eyes staring directly at his own hazel ones. If he had to put a label on the batarian's expression, it would probably be hateful. Leaving his partner to stand in the corner behind her, aiming to somewhat unnerve her, he pulled the other chair from the table and sat down opposite to her.

"Hello Jarna, if that's even your real name. First off, let me say that I'm really sorry about the knockout gas. Wasn't my idea," as expected he didn't get a reply at first. "We just had to make sure you wouldn't follow the example of your late friends," two pairs of eyes narrowed in response to that. "Now I really only want to know a few things about SIU from you, so why don't we get started?"

"If you think that I'll tell you anything, you're even stupider than I imagined," the alien replied, her voice surprisingly light by batarian standards. "Torture me all you want, I won't talk."

It was clear that the two of them had very different ideas as to where this would go. If he had to take a guess, it was probably her training that made her think she'd get tortured. Most special forces and intelligence services put their operatives through training designed to keep them from breaking, Section 13 was no exception to that, yet most people who had been in the business for a couple of years realised that torture only got one so far and was hardly if ever used by actual professionals. People who knew what they were doing, didn't need to lay a single finger on someone to get what they wanted. Unwillingly, Jarna had already told him that she was most likely not quite as experienced as other SIU operatives.

"Who said anything about torture?" he snorted. "You think I'm some kind of amateur?"

"You're human, it doesn't matter what I think. No matter how much you hide it, you're all violent primitives," he could tell that it wasn't just an insult, Jarna was entirely convinced of that narrative.

"That's what they teach you in boarding school, isn't it? I bet you grew up hearing all about these evil new guys called humans, right?"

"We don't need to be taught about your kind, anyone with two good set of eyes can see that you're doing nothing but evil."

"Well, enlighten those of us who only happen to have one good set then, will you?" he folded his hands in front of his face. If he managed to keep her talking about something she was comfortable with, he'd find an opening to use. If it took listening to batarian propaganda to get her to that point, he'd gladly listen to all that the Batarian Hegemony had to say about the HSA.

"You expand without control or right, take our worlds, murder our people, push us out of the Citadel and still pretend to be righteous."

"If we take your worlds and kill your people, why are you here? How come you're the prisoner of war and I'm interrogating you? Shouldn't it be the other way around?" he paused for a few moments, allowing her to form a reply that made sense from her perspective.

"You left us with no choice. We need these worlds to sustain ourselves. Future generations depend on unclaimed garden worlds in the Verge to feed them. If we do not seize them, they will starve. How many of your people burden this galaxy, human? Thirty or maybe forty billion?", she wasn't off by that much, he had to give that to her,"There are over a hundred billion batarians. You don't need these worlds," the batarian spat. "You just want them because that's what your kind does. You just take whatever it is that you desire without thinking about the consequences for others and those who dare to stand up to you are struck down without remorse."

"Let's just pretend the Hegemony hasn't been opening every mass relay they can find since they were kicked off the Council," another angry glare telling him that it was most likely true , "there are still hundreds of garden worlds in the Terminus Systems. No reason to go to invade the Verge whatsoever. Face it, you're here for a less noble reason, dying for a despotic government who left you to die without hesitation. Sucks, doesn't it?"

"I'm a soldier, human. Soldiers die for what they believe in."

"Is that why your comrades killed themselves? Because they believed in a senseless war of expansion?"

"My comrades chose to sacrifice themselves for the good of the Hegemony," once more he could tell that the batarian was unsurprisingly utterly convinced of what she was saying.

"Why die for the Hegemony?"

"You'd die for your people, wouldn't you, human?" she muttered. Had he just gotten a compliment from her? "My only regret is that I couldn't follow their example."

"You wouldn't die for your people though, you'd be dying for the Hegemony," he repeated himself if only for the sake to keep her on the track she was currently on.

"The Batarian Hegemony and the batarian people have been one and the same thing for two thousand years. Everything the Hegemony does, is for the good of our people," Jarna insisted.

"You can't honestly believe that that's true," Morneau replied. "How often have your own people risen up against the Hegemony? If everything they do is for the good of the people, why do your people keep fighting it?"

"Dissidents and non-conformists will always exist, it's a part of life. An occasional slave riot means nothing," only a batarian could consider a slave riot 'occasional'.

"How often has the Hegemony ordered you to turn your gun on your own people, Jarna?" he asked, intending to crack through a part of her shell by attacking the one thing she kept coming back to, her loyalty to her people. The silence that followed indicated that he was on the right track. While he knew that he wouldn't shatter a life's worth of political indoctrination, this was exactly the kind of opening he had been looking for. If he could only get her to answer one question, he'd give other interrogators an opening to exploit. It didn't even have to be something about SIU, something more personal would be sufficient for the start. "Why are you here, Jarna?"

"I already told you, because you left us no choi-"

"I mean why are you here, in this room, and not on some space ship back on your way to the Hegemony? Why did your squad miss the evacuation? What happened?"

The crack started subtle enough. At first Jarna stopped looking at him, uncomfortable with maintaining eye contact now that he had put her into a situation of personal doubt. Glancing at her cuffed hands, the batarian balled her hands into fists several times before simply staring at them for a few moments. Finally a sigh escaped her mouth.

"We got conflicting orders from several sources," she finally gave in. "Our ground commanders told us to make a fighting retreat into the countryside, the fleet wanted us to make a run for every transport we could find and High Command back on Khar'shan demanded that we make a final stand, kill as many of your kind as possible and die on our feet as proud batarians."

"Alright," he said and decided to leave the question as to why they had surrendered instead of following one of these orders to someone else.

The crack he wanted was there and pushing her more might seal it again. Unfolding his hands, he nodded towards Yo-yo and got up, pushing the chair back under desk and walking to the door before giving Jarna a final look, the hateful glare he had received when first entering the room now focused on her own hands instead. In a way, he felt sorry for tearing down a part of the illusion she had spent her entire life living in but if it meant saving others from SIU in the future, he'd keep doing it.

The damage a few well placed words could do to a person was in equal parts amazing and horrifying.

* * *

 _Codex: Batarian Caste System_

 _In its general concept, the caste system that's partially responsible for making batarian society the galactic pariah is based on the pillar-like symbolism found in their religion. Based on the believe that each of the thirteen castes represents a singular pillar playing its part in upholding the batarian people as a whole, the two fully enslaved castes, which respectively fulfill the roles of industrial and domestic serfs, are seen as essential. Controlling every aspect of a batarian's live, the caste system not only decided whether or not one has the right to freedom but also partially determines the walks of life a batarian can chose from. While the members of the largest and poorest caste, called lowborns by their peers, form the backbone of batarian society and are unrestricted in which profession they chose, members of most higher castes lack the ability to chose their future, instead being raised for a singular purpose, for example becoming a scientist or military officer. Those who seek a different future for their decentands have the ability to buy themselves into a different caste, a practice that has seen several lowborn families eventually rising to influential positions within their society._

 _The highest caste of batarian society, its name roughly translating to 'born from greatness', make up the exception to that rule. Forming the economic and political elite of batarian society and having earned the unique privilege of wearing the colour of the divine, yellow, the few highborn families that trace their roots back to the early days of the Batarian Hegemony enforce the caste system with an iron fist, well aware that their power is largely based on the other castes believing them to be the 'Athok', the central pillar, which they allign themselves with. Ensuring absolute loyalty in the lower castes through complete control of the media and education, the wealthiest noble family, Amon, has time and again 'reformed' the caste system to increase their power, slowly pushing the theocratic, scientific and military elite further away from their originally almost equal positions and maintaining a hold on the position of Chairman, the absolute ruler of the Batarian Hegemony, for nearly a thousand years._

 _Given the secrecy surrounding the internal politics of the Hegemony, it is unknown what kind of tension these reforms have caused over the ages._

 _While batarian historians claim that the caste society has always been a cherished part of their culture, evidence from the time period predating the rule of Verush the Divine, a batarian monarch who's empire spanned most of Khar'shan's surface, suggests that several now either extinct or enslaved batarian cultures harshly opposed the practice. Going to war against the 'Athok' dozens of times and nearly succeeding in toppling the empire that would eventually transform itself into the Batarian Hegemony on two seperate occasion, the Daharth, traitors, remain one of the biggest mysteries of batarian pre-mass effect history. (See Entry 'Batarian History until the discovery of Mass Effect Technology') Mentioned in one of the few historic documents that somehow found their way out of the Hegemony, it is unknown what eventually brought down the people that defied the rule of Verush and his descendants until the dawn of the Hegemony, only the unusually high traces of radiation measured in one of Khar'shan's deserts shortly after first contact with the Hegemony indicating their possible fate._

* * *

 **A/N: Jesus fuck this chapter was a small nightmare to write because I lost about 2000 words when my latest save was corrupted a few days back. Didn't think I could remember that much but after reading over it, I was somewhat amazed to realise that I kind of nailed the mental recovery (read that as I spent well over an hour trying to figure out what the fuck I had written in the last three before eyeballing it)**

 **Anyway, this chapter is the second time all three backgrounds appear at once and for the first time, it's just them. I realise that Shepard is obviously going to be the highlight, but I like to think that the other two can stand on their own as well. So yeah, this is kind of a special occasion for Semper Vigilo, since none of the 'original' cast (read that as Redford, the other Shepard, the Arterius bros and etc) atually made an apperance.**

 **Now I hope the whole 'fire' contrast (if you want to call it that) between Shepard and now Haugen wasn't too on the nose but I couldn't resist it, sorry mates. Basically this chapter kind of sets up the next *big* thing which...**

 **...drumroll please...**

 **is gonna be Torfan, not Akuze.**

 **Haha! Gotcha, you few people who know the mass effect canon timeline and know that it SHOULD'VE been the Lone Survivor background.**

 **The reason for this change of chronology is basically the narrative of the Lone Survivor 'story'. You know how I keep saying that Akuze is going to be the most different background compared to the games? Well it's** **due to its differences, that it needs to happen later. Otherwise it'd seem really fucking weird. Just gotta wait and see for now dudes. Now for the record, I don't know if I mentioned it already, but there are only seven chapters between here and the beginning of Mass Effect 1 so yeah, it's not gonna be THAT long till Akuze (even if I got into the bad habit of taking two instead of one week to finish a chapter, I want to get to ME 1 before 2017 is over so yeah, strap in. The pace is going to pick up from here on out.**

 **So yeah.. sorry for fucking with the lot of you who were certain it'd be Akuze.**

 **For the record we're at 306 reviews, 511 favorites and 614 follows.**

 **See you around next time.**


	38. Smile For The Camera

**Chapter 38. Smile For The Camera**

* * *

 **2150 CE, THS Umbra**

"Anything yet?"

"The envoy vessel reports no progress, General," the communications officer replied.

Desolas Arterius took a sip from his drink. This was the moment it all came down to. If the diplomats aboard the ship did their job right, the galaxy would still stand a chance. The war with the batarians had dragged on for three months and while nearly five hundred thousand soldiers and civilians had died on both sides, he knew that things could've turned out far worse than half a million fresh graves.

There was something else he never would've seen him say twenty years ago.

As morbid and cold as it sounded, the casualties suffered by ground forces hadn't been the reason he had pulled every string he needed to pull to get to this point. His main concern and driving motivation behind preventing a further escalation of this war had been the damage the navies and infrastructures of all conflict parties would've suffered in case of an assault on batarian space. An infantry platoon could be trained in less than a year and just about every citizen of the Hierarchy was capable of serving as a rifleman. A dedicated factory could produce hundreds of tanks each month and it didn't take much longer to train someone in using a VI-assisted maingun than it took to teach a soldier the basics of riflemanship. Space ships and their crews were very different. Depending on their size, class and assignment it could take years to built them. Likewise the turian navy didn't consider a crew fully trained until it had proven itself over the course of several duty rotations. Experienced crews were almost as valuable as the ships they manned and replacing either of the two was far more difficult than giving someone a rifle and teaching them how to hold it.

"Alright, inform me the moment you hear something," Desolas nodded before withdrawing from the bridge of the soon to be out-dated stealth vessel. While the ship he stood on right now had served the Hierarchy well, the glimpses he had gotten at the joint human-turian design currently being worked on overshadowed the Umbra and its sister ships in every possible way. If this 'Normandy-Class' would actually be capable of doing what the project leaders promised, it would be incredibly useful. As the doors to his quarters hissed open, he activated the projector and continued the conversation he had been in before his presence was requested on the bridge.

"Any progress?" the human who likely observed the meeting himself asked after he took a sip of the beverage he somehow always kept within arm's reach, no matter when or where.

"No, they're still negotiating."

"Probably still trying to talk some sense in the batarians," Jack Harper, the director of Cerberus, one of the two human organisations that he was working with, figured. "Anyway, as I was saying, the backlash to this ceasefire on some of our planets is considerable."

"Yes and I am sorry to divide your people," Desolas sighed, well aware of the consequences separatism could have. Even centuries after the Unification War, turians were no strangers to infighting and given that the Hierarchy itself was going against its doctrine of fully subduing anyone who attacked them as well, hardliners, specifically a group based around Taetrus, were once more becoming vocal about the disdain they held for the Council of Primarchs. Contraty to what the rest of the galaxy said, there was a logical answer as to why the Hierarchy maintained the Hastatim Corps. "But all things considered this is the best possible course of action we could've taken. You were there back then, you heard what Doctor T'Soni said."

"You misunderstood me, General," Harper retorted. "I know that a war with the Hegemony would've put us in an even more vulnerable position. I understand that we couldn't fight them, it would've played right into the Harbinger's hands to do so."

"Yet you're worried," Desolas pointed out. "Why?"

"Every time we think we've made progress, we discover another piece of the puzzle that sets us three steps back," the human muttered. "We find an Object Omnicron and destroy it, turns out there are more. We locate the next one, begin to understand how they work and find where they came from only to discover that whoever left them behind also has been building enormous space ships for the last one billion years. Then we realise that something besides the artifacts is acting on Harbinger's behalf, carefully preparing the galaxy for his assault," there was a pause in the human's voice, his stoic tone hiding whatever emotions he was feeling right now. While Desolas was good at reading people, in his profession he had to be, the trained spy was an enigma to him. Unless Harper wanted him to know how he felt, he wouldn't be able to tell. "And to top it all of, we now know that all of this has happened before."

"You're afraid we won't win?" the turian general questioned after coming to a conclusion based soley on what the director had told him.

"No," Harper shook his head,"I am worried that what we think of as our way to victory is actually just another part of a plan we can't yet comprehend."

"So you do think that I made the wrong decision when asking your people to end this war."

"I think that we're projecting our way of waging war on something completely alien," the director explained. "Fleet numbers, worlds, infrastructure and logistical lines only matter if you intend to fight a conventional war but we don't know what the Harbinger considers conventional. Everything we thought we knew about him has turned out to be wrong the moment we learned something else."

"The way I see it," Desolas began,"every time we are proven wrong is a time we get closer to being right. I don't know when we'll find the truth but if we maintain the course we're on right now, it's bound to happen."

"An optimistic sentiment that only works as long as we still have time."

Even if the officer in him knew that he couldn't show any signs of doubting their success for the sake of morale, he had to agree with the director. They had been chasing shadows for nearly two decades and since every encounter with the thralls of their enemy had promised a timely arrival of the Harbinger, the idea that they were running out of time was growing more relevant with every day.

"I can't deny that I understand your worries, Director," Desolas finally admitted. Harper wasn't a rank and file grunt that needed a rousing speech, he could handle the truth, "but as long as we still have time, it's the best thing we can do."

Before the human could reply a bleeping sound on his omni-tool and a similar noise from somewhere beyond the hologram's projection caused them to look at each other. After both of them had opened the message and read its content, they showed a very similar reaction.

"It would seem that your plan was successful," Harper spoke as Desolas himself closed the small text file saying that the Council envoy had managed to talk the batarians into a permanent ceasefire beginning right now. While it wasn't a peace treaty, it had the effect he had desired. Whether it had been the overwhelming force of the Citadel Council, the stalemate of their war effort or the fact that the batarians hadn't achieved their objectives after months of fighting and faced some sort of internal strife because of it that had caused the batarian delegation to crack didn't matter. What mattered was that today they had eliminated a grave danger to their already questionable chances of victory, putting their odds back to the way they had been before this war had put all of them at risk in ways only a few people knew of.

"It would seem so," he replied.

"Small victories are victories nonetheless," the human spoke, somewhat contradicting what he had said before. "I think both of us have different matters to attend to but I hope that you consider what I said."

"Of course I will," Desolas not only prided himself with listening to people, he was convinced that it was a crucial part of being a commander to heed the opinions of those around him.

"Good," Harper. "Get home safely, General."

"Thank you, Director."

And with that the line closed, leaving Desolas alone in his room, a mountain of digital paper work now his only companion and the near constant buzzing accompanied by a new message arriving on his omni-tool indicating that it wouldn't stop growing for some time.

This might have been the one thing he hated about his job.

Sparing a single thought of envy to his brother, who unlike him wasn't about to drown in the massive amount of administrative work associated with moving a turian legion back to its home base, he wondered just what it was that Saren was currently doing. While the younger Spectre had checked in to see how the war, if one could even call the few engagements he had been in such, was affecting Desolas, he had neglected to mention what it was that he was currently doing, only hinting that he was somewhere in the Terminus Systems and 'expanding his network'. Even though he sincerily doubted that Saren was getting himself into the kind of business some Spectre's stumbled into for the sake of their missions, a part of him still wondered about his little brother's activities. Sure, he knew that every Spectre needed to make connections but since his brother had already built a considerable network over his years of service and acquired a quite respectable support structure for his operations, he couldn't help but shake the thought that Saren was doing more than simply hiring informants. Them again Desolas trusted his brother's instincts and whatever it was that Saren was doing had to serve a purpose, much like himself the younger Arterius wasn't one to do something he didn't consider essential to his success. If he wasn't talking to him about it right now, he would have his reasons. Eventually Desolas would hear about it.

As yet another wave of messages came crushing down on him and interrupted his thoughts, the general realised that the workload wouldn't grow any smaller.

No point in fighting it.

Sighing as he powered up the terminal, he got to work.

* * *

 **8\. October 2408 AD, Arcturus Station**

"Therefore it is with great gratitude and great honor that I bestow this award on you," the chancellor of the HSA finally spoke after listing the series of events that had let her here. After she bowed her head ever so slightly to allow Goyle to hang the medal around her neck, a barrage of applause echoed through the room. Doing as she had been asked to in the briefing that had preceded this public event, Shepard turned towards the audience as the chancellor shook her hand, smiling for the cameras. Only after nearly a minute of standing the same spot and having her picture taken by countless of news outlets, Goyle let go of Shepard's hand and turned towards her.

"You're an example for all of us," the woman spoke as much for the cameras as for Emily, "and I don't think words can describe the debt we owe you. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Unsure of how to answer, the marine simply nodded at her words and, she realised that is sounded ungrateful, hoped that it would soon be over. While she understood the idea behind making the 'heroic deeds' of HSA soldiers famous, she had somehow hoped that she'd avoid being caught in the ordeal. As evident by the second wave of applause now filling the room, that hope had been false. Only when the clapping died down and the cameras began to turn towards the chancellor who was still supposed to make a public statement was she sent of the stage and back towards her relatives, shaking a dozen hands for every meter she got closer towards them.

"I get why you picked a different career," she frowned at her father after finally reaching her parents and sitting down next to them.

"Already growing sick of being a hero?" her father, who in spite of the occasion was dressed in civilian clothing, chuckled. Even if an event like this technically required him to appear in his uniform, she had a rather solid idea as to why Section 13 might allow its specialists to stay anonymous when the cameras were rolling.

"More like growing sick of the cameras," she corrected. "I'm just glad this is over."

"There are worse things than being awarded a Star of Valour, Emily," her mother, who like Emily herself wore her own uniform and commendations, offered in an ironic tone.

"I guess," her tone wasn't much better really. It wasn't just the looks that she had gotten from her mother's side of the family. "Still, I can't wait for N-School. No cameras in Rio. It'll be a nice change."

The slight shift in her father's expression told her everything she needed to know. They had talked about her becoming an N7 and, not unlike when she had first decided to enlist in the first place, her dad had been less than enthusiastic about the idea. While he was proud of her, he had gone out of his way to mention that time and again, she knew that he'd rather have her transfer to a position that didn't involve the kind of work N7s did or as a matter of fact didn't involve any sort of combat.

"You'll be wishing for this press conference during the Crucible," he chuckled, his features growing somewhat brighter as he let on that he, a specialist of Section 13, actually knew every detail about the N7 training but had refrained from telling her anything for the sake of 'not spoiling the surprise', "I know what's coming for you and trust me, when it happens you'll want to be back here."

"Dad, I think you underestimate my dislike for media attention," she shrugged as the chancellor began to address the crowd, speaking about subjects such as the need for unity and compassion to those who had suffered under the attacks and condemning those who called for vengeance and separatism. Even if the ceasefire had only been negotiated three months ago, its effects already rippled through the HSA. Neither the IFS' role in the fighting nor the fact that Goyle had basically spent all of her political favour to convince the majority of parliament to get to this point were doing the situation any favours. "Besides Brazil's a nice place. You could've picked way worse than Rio."

"Trust me, they wanted a place way worse but apparently the navy back then," he shot a joking glance at his wife,"didn't really like the prospect of dragging its special forces through a jungle filled with carnivorous plants and dog-sized bugs."

"And for that I am grateful," Emily offered before joining the partially less than sincere applause the chancellor received upon completing her speech. After a quick series of questions the journalists began to vacate the room, leaving behind only the actual guests and soon enough the other two people who had arrived with her parents stood behind them.

"There you are," her dad spoke as her uncle, Grant, and his wife, and therefore aunt, Tela appeared from the other end of the room. "Thought you pulled a fast one on me. Where did you go?"

"On you? Always. But on my godchild? Come on mate, you know me better than this," the blonde man chuckled before pointing behind him. "Turns out, only blood relatives get seating priority. That stupid usher put us way in the back."

"Which he might have done because you called him 'stupid usher' in the first place," Tela reasoned, the slight accent caused by her actually speaking English instead of her native asari tongue as present as ever.

"While that might be true to a certain extent, the tosser still had it coming when he decided to put us anywhere but the front in the first place."

"As charming as the day I met him," the asari rolled her eyes before turning to Emily. "Glad that it's over, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," she smiled at the former Spectre.

"For what it's worth, I never liked award ceremonies and cameras either."

"So now that you finally honour us with your presence," her father spoke as he looked at his wife, Emily herself, Tela and then finally Grant "What do you say we go back to the hotel, dress into something comfortable," he tucked at the collar of his suit,"find a place to eat, I'm starving, and think about what we're gonna do for the rest of the weekend?"

"Sounds like a plan," her uncle nodded. "I've got some time to kill anyway. Don't have to leave till sunday evening."

"Wait, I thought you didn't get the extended leave," her mother asked as they made their way out of the room. "What changed?"

"Found a stand-in."

"You found a stand-in for teaching the Marvel Course?" her dad repeated,a shock in his voice that let Emily to belief that something about that course made it far from enjoyable. "How did you convince anyone to take that fall for your?"

"Morneau still owed me a favour," Morn-who?

"So you put him up to teach Marvel," and what exactly was Marvel?

"Well, in my defense, he's not entirely alone."

"Who else did you drag into it, Redford?"

"Me? No one. He took care of having company all by himself."

"Maybe, but I'd bet that he learned doing it from you."

"Once more, that might be true to a certain extend but we both know that h-"

"Could the two of you stop bickering for once?" her mother injected into their banter. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that the two of you are the married ones," she added much to the amusement of everyone else.

As they walked out of the press center, Emily cracked one of the first genuine smiles of the day. If conferences and cameras meant that her small family could be together like this more often, she could handle a few more.

* * *

 **24\. February 2409 AD,** **Attican Traverse** **, Independent World Kosh**

"Alright, time's running," she informed him before looking around the apartment they had just broken into."Damn this place has to cost a fortune."

"More like two fortunes," he said while walking over to the large glass window overlooking the sprawling metropolis below. Between towers of flawless glass, lush and colourful roof gardens and the hundreds of skycars buzzing on orderly lanes below them it was easy to see why a lot of people considered the megacities on Earth as nothing but poverty ridden, overpopulated slums. Kosh, one of the largest independent colonies in the galaxy and home to several of the most influential industrial conglomerates operating both in and outside of Council space, was the perfect example of how big of a gap still remained between the HSA and the rest of the galaxy. Even if humanity had three centuries of rapid expansionism and scientific breakthroughs on its back, it couldn't hope to catch up on two millennia's worth of space travel any time soon. "Who knew being a corporate tool got you this kind of view?"

"Considering switching careers?" his partner muttered as she powered up the terminal idly sitting on a large wooden table opposite to the window, its orange glow illuminating the otherwise dark apartment.

"And let you do all the fun stuff?" he chuckled. "Nice try, I live for this."

"Should I be worried that you said that while we're breaking and entering?" Yo-yo asked as he began to look around the room.

"From time to time the line between spy and master thief can get really blurry," he shrugged before entering an adjacent bedroom furnitured even more luxurious than the one before it.

The reason they were here was as simple as it was important. In the wake of the batarian attack on the Verge, an event by now referred to as the 'Skyllian Blitz', and the subsequent ceasefire between the two governments, nearly one hundred thousand people had been taken from their homes to be held as both hostages and to be sold on the batarian slave market, a place now even more hostile to humans than before. Confronted with the reality of IFS forces playing a keyrole in defending several colonies from slavers and removing the people's previous belligerence towards them, the HSA had been backed into a corner it couldn't afford to stay in for much longer. With splinter groups either calling for batarian blood or demanding that the administration which had negotiated the ceasefire to be removed from power increasing the uneasy sentiment in the general populace, every uniformed branch of the Human HSA had been put to the task to bring back those who had been taken and disprove the accusation that they had failed at their first, and in the minds of some people only duty, protecting humanity.

At first the task had been surprisingly easy, the trail of those taken had still been hot. Dozens of raids executed by N7 and ASOC forces working with intelligence gathered by both the HSA and the Blue Suns, a paramilitary group funded by his government to combat slaver bands, had seen the liberation of thousands of people from slaver outposts throughout the Terminus Systems and Attican Traverse. But the more people they brought home, the harder it got to track the remaining captives. Many of them vanished into the depths of batarian territory and out of their reach, others were shipped off deeper into the Terminus Systems and in turn bringing every rescue operation closer to sparking yet another conflict between the HSA and the Terminus warlords who hadn't learned from the Mercenary Intervention. With every passing week the chances and the number of humans that they could still save grew smaller and with nearly a month going by without solid intelligence, some members of the HSA' top-brass had started to think about cutting their losses.

If it hadn't been for a Blue Suns vessel stumbling over a ship filled to the brink with missing citizens of the Human Systems Alliance they very likely would've been heard eventually. The moment the news of a transporter belonging to a mining company operating from Kosh had been discovered carrying people taken during the Blitz had reached Cronos Station, had been the moment they had gotten their orders. Go to Kosh, track down the corporate official who had recently acquired what the loading manifest had called the first of several deliveries of 'cheap labour fource' and figure out where they were coming from. If there was still a place holding enough human captives to catch the interest a wealthy corporation, they had to find it.

Knocking his gloved hand against a wall safe, the only thing of interest in this particular room, in an attempt figure out just how thick the material it was made from was, he decided that brute force would not only not do but also be far too obvious and activated the omni-tool on his arm. While he had never been the technically adept part of the team he formed with one Specialist Rachel Young, or as he called her, Yo-yo, Section 13 had given him the tools needed to crack a simple passcode. Running through the required steps one by one, the sound of the magnetic locks coming loose was the only clue he needed. Quickly wiping the interaction of the safe's log, he pulled the handle down and took a look inside, quite disappointed when the only things inside were a gilded gun, a bottle of pink liquor and a presumably very expensive piece of jewelry.

While interesting for a thief, a data drive would've been much more appreciated by the spy.

"You got anything yet?" he asked through his earpiece after closing the safe and searching the usual hiding places throughout the room, checking for hidden drawers or hollow walls only to come up empty handed. By this point he suspected that their mark, like most corporate officials on the payroll of companies using places like Kosh and Illium to indulge in shadier business, simply didn't bother to hide most of what he did because it wasn't technically illegal on the world he did it on.

"A place and a name," Yo-yo replied as he checked his watch, the timer that indicated when the cameras would stop looping and in turn tip off local security that something was up still mercilessly counting towards zero. "It'll have to do."

Moving out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him, he rejoined his partner just as she shut down the terminal. Then as quickly as they had entered, the two specialists left. Pulling the door close behind him, he looked down the hallway behind them to confirm that no one had witnessed their short incursion. When he found it to be empty, he followed Yo-yo towards the elevator that had carried them to the toplevel of the skyscraper in the first place. Taking a moment to once more place the camera inside the elevator on a loop to avoid anyone from figuring out they had been here, the two specialists stepped inside and shortly afterwards the doors closed behind them. Confident in their countermeasures, he opened his mouth.

"Where are we going?"

"A place called the Loop," the brunette woman replied as the glass lift rapidly descended towards the lobby of the apartment complex. "That's where our buyer met his contact. Apparently that nightclub is the place you go to on Kosh if you're looking for workers you don't need to pay."

"And who's the fortunate soul we're looking for?"

"Dindo For, he's a volus and as far as Kosh's colonial authorities are concerned he's working for a transport company."

"A volus?" he repeated, receiving a nod.

"Surprised?" Yo-yo turned to look at him, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Didn't think the little guys had it in them?"

"Actually, yes. You don't exactly picture a volus when you're thinking about slavers."

"Look on the bright side, a volus stands out and won't start a fight. If this goes well, we'll leave Kosh without firing a single shot," she shrugged just as the elevator doors opened, the turian security guard manning the lobby only shortly glancing towards them before returning his attention on the printed gun magazine in his hands, his evident boredom indicating that their countermeasures had worked as intended.

"The volus won't, but his bodyguards might," Morneau countered on their way towards the exit of the building. "Besides, if the guy's selling people for a living, we'd do the galaxy a favour by crossing him off."

"If their contact person dies, they might move their captives. As much as he deserves it, he isn't worth risking our shot at getting some of our people back," his partner reasoned as they left the apartment complex behind them and began their journey towards the nightclub,"besides, we can always come back for him," she echoed his tone.

As they walked through the streets of Kosh, Morneau noted that for a world of its size there was a surprisingly small number of people enjoying the nightlife. Usually one could assume that a high rate of crime led to locals avoiding being out past a certain time but their briefing had explicitly mentioned that criminal activity on the world was at an alltime low and that Kosh was currently considered one of the safest places in the galaxy, both the planetary government increasing the founding of its security forces and companies themselves hiring private contractors to safeguard their assets in fears of being subjected to another Skyllian Blitz contributing to the current situation on the planet.

Eyeing the pair of turians currently guarding the street Yo-yo and him were walking on, he noticed that they themselves were being watched as well. An asari clad in a white armor marked by a somewhat familiar red, three-pronged star carefully observed their every move from a balcony further ahead, a very expensive looking sniper-rifle folded on her back. As both of the guards regularly threw suspicious glances at her, not even bothering to hide that they knew she was there, he began to suspect that there was more going on between the companies that dominated large portions of Kosh and the colonial government that was technically in charge of the planet than a small bureaucratic dispute. Two powerful groups with little trust for each other were always dangerous and the locals presumably tried to stay out of the streets just in case either of the two parties decided to start shooting.

"You saw the sniper?" he muttered before they took yet another turn, the fascade of the nightclub coming into view.

"Yes. She was Final Wave, let's just hope that they aren't on For's payroll as well. They're trouble," That's where he had seen the insignia before, it belonged to the group regularly doing the Shadow Broker's wetwork but still somehow managed to maintain a business on the Citadel. "Alright, we're here. You set, Magic?"

"What do you think?"

Morneau and Young came to a stop some distance in front of the building and once more the lack of people became evident. Instead of the kind of line one expected to find in front of a nightclub apparently pretty popular throughout this part of town, the only other person around was a batarian bouncer taking a smoke break, an orange glint growing brighter as he pulled in a final breath before exhaling a small, grey cloud into the light of the club's entrance and tossing the cigarette to the ground. When he was about to head inside, the mild temperature of Kosh's evening presumably a bit too cold for a member of a species which had evolved on a tropical planet, he spotted them and visibly sighed.

"Just one guy," Morneau reasoned, a familiar feeling tingling through his spine as his biotics began to flare up in his hands, preparing to lash out. "Let's make it quick."

"Let's not make it anything yet, I've got an idea," Yo-yo countered, her more cautious nature that admittedly had saved him in the past surfacing. Since he had absolutely no reason to doubt her, he decided to go with it. Sharing a look wit her, Morneau shrugged.

"All yours," he offered before his partner closed the distance between the batarian and herself, getting just close enough to get her point across.

"We're full," the batarian called towards them. "Beat it."

"Yeah, I can practically hear the crowd from here," she said before letting the silent streets speak for themselves. "But I'm sure you can squeeze in two more, right?"

"If I say it's full, then it's full. If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of here, human," he replied before turning away.

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a warning," the batarian growled as he reached for something in the pouches of his suit and in turn caused Morneau's hand to instinctively travel towards the pistol concealed by his own jacket. Only when he turned around and instead of a gun had produced a small metal box and another cigarette from it did the specialists grip on his own weapon loosen. Sticking the paper roll into his mouth and lighting it, the bouncer inhaled exactly once before flicking off the first pieces of ash. "For your own sake, go home or find another club. If you go in there, chances are you won't come out again."

"We can take care of ourselves."

"So can they," the batarian sighed as he again turned around and leaned against the wall. "Some of the people in there are the kind of scum you humans really don't want to be close to right now or ever again. They don't like you and they won't bother hiding how they feel either. They're slavers, they're dangerous and they have enough pull on Kosh to get away with double murder."

"Which is why we're here," Yo-yo replied, picking up on the disdain in the batarians voice and offering a mischievous grin. "Chances are if you let us inside, one of them will get what's coming for him soon enough."

Sticking the cigarette into his mouth, the batarian pulled on it once more, the orange glint traveling closer to his mouth with every moment right until he removed it from his mouth to look around himself. Apparently satisfied with what he was seeing, he briefly locked eyes with Morneau himself before nodding towards the door.

"I don't know who you are and frankly, I don't care. Something tells me I'm better off not knowing either way," the batarian began, "what I do know however is that these dirt bags had it coming for a long time." the bouncer explained,"so don't let me stop you but don't say I didn't warn you after they throw you down the garbage chute either."

"You might want to get out of here, just in case things get ugly," Young offered as Morneau caught up with her.

"I'm used to ugly, human," the deep voice rumored before pulling open the door. "Just make sure you don't hit the wrong people while you're in there."

As they stepped into the dark hallway of the club, voices and faint music now actually audible, the two specialists slowly but steadily wandered closer towards the entrance of the actual club. Peaking through the door, he could see a crowd of people filling the dance floor and make out another, guarded entrance behind them. While they attempted to hide it under their clothes, he could already tell that both of them were armed and armored. If he had to take a bet, he would've guessed that For was beyond that door and that they would never let them walk in just like that. Placing his hand on the door, he turned to his partner.

"Think you can convince them as well?" he inquired as he mustered his surroundings. Even if he was completely convinced that they'd be able to take them out, he didn't like the odds of the guards opening fire in the process. Both specialists had shields and he himself even had his biotic barriers to fall back on but the people who'd be caught in the crossfire would be torn to shreds. Unlike him, it wasn't their job to be shot at so if they could find a way to get beyond that door that didn't involve violence, he'd take it.

"Them? Probably not," she admitted before looking at the door itself."But they aren't the ones I have to convince. For will be listening and if he thinks he can make a profit by talking to us, he'll tell them to let us in."

He could agree with that logic.

"After you," he nodded after opening the door and waving his hand into the club.

Stepping past him and walking towards the crowd, Yo-yo confidently marched towards the VIP door, navigating the mass of people with practiced ease while avoiding being dragged into dances by some eager asari. Since he would hardly be of any help from all the way over here, he decided to throw himself into the breach as well. Weaving through the intoxicated clubgoers, he focused on keeping his eyes on the sole other human, a task made rather easy by the fact that everyone else was either blue, purple or scaly. Tracking her progress as he dodged an intoxicated salarian stumbling towards what he assumed to be his friends, he took a few more moments to actually steer clear of the most crowded part of the dance floor. When he finally managed to break free, the other specialist had already approached the guards.

"I hear this is the place you go to if you want to meet Dindo For," he could make out over the sound of the music.

"What makes you think he wants to meet you?" the salarian guard retorted. "Your kind isn't welcome here. Leave."

"My kind? I can see that," she shrugged as he got into something of a staring contest with the turian occupying the other side of the door. "But what about my money?"

"If you're looking for a meeting, make an appointment."

"People like me don't make appointments," Yo-yo protested, perfectly delivering the arrogance the kind of person she was pretending to be would have.

"People like you?" the salarian repeated as the turian next to him tapped the side of his hip to make it clear to Morneau that he was in fact armed. "Get out of here before I show you what people like you get."

"Either tell For that I'm here to make a deal or tell him that you lost him a fortune," she countered as she practically jabbed her finger into the salarian's chest and causing him to take a step back. "Your choice."

"I'm not going to repeat my-" the guard began only for his omni-tool to flare up. As his features practically turned into stone to hide his frustration, he stepped aside. "You may go inside."

Throwing a smirk at the turian guard, he followed Yo-yo through the now opened door and into the VIP section, immediately realising that the room consisted of nothing but an office, a desk, a computer terminal and two chairs being the only pieces of notable furniture. This wasn't what he had pictured. Taking in the volus sitting int he chair, his bronze environment suit clashing with the otherwise spartan room and glancing at the asari guard behind him, he crossed his arms and waited for Young to continue her play.

"You mentioned a deal, Earth-clan?" the small alien questioned as his weirdly shaped hands kept typing on the terminal. "Before you answer, consider that my patience in regards to humans is rather short at the moment. Your kind has lost me a lot of money in the last years." As if clued by his words, a purple ripple danced over the hands of the asari and for a moment Morneau considered to show her that she wasn't the only one who could do that little trick.

"Simple, I work for a company looking to replace some troublesome employees with more," she waved her hands before producing an account HSAIS had created for bribes on her omni-tool, "compliant workers. We'd be willing to pay you a handsome reward if you were to point us in a direction where we can acquire workers that meet our needs."

"Which company is it that you represent?"

"One which would like to stay anonymous," the specialist replied before adding to the number displayed on the holographic screen. "Will this be an issue?"

"You value privacy, I can understand that," the volus nodded. "Why come to me? There are dozens of people who work in the same business as me."

"Because you seem to have access to something increasingly rare these days."

"And what would that be?"

"My people," Yo-yo stated dryly. "If we suddenly started employing salarians, people would start asking questions. My company needs the workers to be human."

"It is a special kind of depravity to put your own kind in shackles, Earth-clan," the volus chuckled between the mechanical sound of his breathing apparatus.

"In our business, profit supersedes morals. I don't think I have to explain that to you," she replied. In a way it was both impressive and scary that she could seamlessly slip into whatever role the situation called for. Section 13 specialists were good at being someone else, it came with the job, but she really took the performance to another level.

"I could set you up," the volus spoke again. "Organize the shipments, outline a payment plan, contact my people."

"None of that will be necessary. The only thing you need to do is to tell us," she said before adding even more to the number displayed on her omni-tool,"is where we can find what we're looking for."

"You want me to disclose my source?"

"Will that be a problem?" Yo-yo asked after typing on her omni-tool once more.

"I think," the volus began after looking at the sum, unaware that HSAIS would not only never actually pay him but also lock him out of all of his funds in less than twenty four hours, "not."

"Good," the specialist quipped as she sent the transfer all the while setting off the process that would lock down the volus' accounts. As For typed on his terminal, right now finding the desired sum of credit on his account, he looked back at the brunette woman.

"My source is a moon called Torfan. They still hold a large supply of humans there," he stated as Young herself received a message on her omni-tool. "These are the coordinates. Come to me again if you need anything else."

"A pleasure doing business with you," the specialist bowed her head ever so slightly before turning on her heel and making her way back to the door, stopping just in front of it before addressing the volus for a final time, "and don't worry, if your source is what we hope it to be, we might visit you again sooner than you'd like."

"If you keep paying like this, I won't mind another visit," For called after them. Blinded by greed, he didn't even realise that the specialist had just given him a subtle death threat. While they personally couldn't take him out until this so called 'Torfan' had been cleared, the days of the volus would soon be numbered. HSAIS didn't make a habit out of letting people who sold humans for a living get off easy and accidents happened to even the most careful people.

* * *

 **4\. March 2409 AD, Korfal System, HSASV Austerlitz**

"Four sublevels, dozens of rooms constructed like a maze, god knows how many slavers and a ton civies in between," Hofmann muttered while adjusting the sights of his rifle. "Why is it that we never get the fun assignments?"

"You wanna join the grunts and go play dodge ball with a bunch of batarian skirmishers, be my guest," Miller shrugged as he inspected the edge of his combat knife, the glint of the hangar's lights reflecting of the polished steel right until it vanished in its sheath. "I'm right where I want to be."

Both of them had a would be a tough mission, maybe the hardest one in his career but everyone agreed, they were the last and best hope of the people being held captive on the desolate planet below them. N7s were good, there was no doubt in that, but unlike their army counterpart, the navy's special forces weren't exactly known for subtly. Given the size of the complex, only ASOC could get in without being noticed and only ASOC could shut down the base's defenses before the slavers moved the reason the HSA had cleared this operation in the first place out of its reach. Spread out over four separate fortresses on the desolate moon below them nine thousand human colonists waited to be sold to the highest bidder. In his professional opinion, the intel they had on the place was far too little to actually go in as hard and as fast as they were about to. They didn't know how many slavers were waiting for them and they didn't know how close enemy reinforcements were to their target. They only had a basic scan of the area and a vague idea of how the fortress worked.

But it was either now or never, their time frame was closing.

Unless they wanted to forfeit nine thousand lives, they had to act and in his personal opinion the risk was worth the reward. He had seen how their enemy treated their captives and that had been before humans had become the most prized possession of any slaver looking for someone to torment. As long as he was still breathing, he'd take every chance to spare someone from going through something like that.

"Cut the chatter and ready up," he called on his way to the Kodiak, an SR-8 flung over his shoulder and an optical camouflage device strapped to his belt. Doing as they were told, the members of Phantom Squad, one of four ASOC teams that would converge on the biggest of the four slaver bunkers, fell in line behind him and boarded the shuttle. As they strapped into their harnesses, Haugen pulled his helmet over his head mere moments before a transmission came through.

"All HSA forces receiving this transmission, stop what you're doing and listen up," the raspy voice of the commander of this entire operation, Rear Admiral Steven Hackett, sounded. "We are making our final approach now and Planetfall will begin in five minutes," he explained with a tone shaped by years of command. "The coming hours will be tough. The slavers are prepared, they know the lay of the land and they're ready for a fight. But no matter how deep they withdraw into their bases, no matter how many traps they prepare or how many ambushes they plant, they will only delay the inevitable. All of us are here for the same reason. Yesterday they took our people from their homes, today we bring them back. Give them hell, Hackett out."

"That didn't sound like any squid I ever met," Miller mused as the doors of the Kodiak were pulled close by a crewman now looking at him. "No offense."

"The guy wasn't always a squid," Hofmann replied. "He used to be Ordnance Delivery Group before the Iffys buried his team under three stories worth of parking deck. It didn't kill him but it gave him some nasty nerve damage," as the Staff Sergeant kept talking, Haugen began to remember the rest of the story, "after he dragged his guys back to base, the navy realised that he couldn't do his job anymore and tried to give him an honorable discharge. He didn't like that a bit and long story short, ODG pulled some strings and had him retrained as a bridge officer instead."

"No wonder I already like him," the younger sergeant nodded his approval. "That's impressive."

"Damn right it is. If only all of top-brass could be like him."

Hearing the engines of the shuttle flare to life, Haugen checked over his gear for a final time to keep himself busy. He never liked orbital insertions, something about sitting in a flying target and hoping that they weren't blown from the skies didn't sit well with him. Avoiding that on as many occasions as possible had been one of the reasons he had picked the army over the marines in the first place. Looking through the 'window' of the Kodiak as it flew out of the hangar of the Austerlitz, it was hard to miss Torfan. It's brownish surface dominated most of his view, only a few green silhouettes of human vessels, rows of shuttles, their escort interceptors and a few recently destroyed hostile ships standing out against the background.

Sadly things would look differently on the ground.

The shuttle began to shake as it broke through the thick atmosphere of Torfan, visibility outside being reduced to basically zero once they dove into the heavy clouds, and Haugen felt himself getting pressed into his harness. He understood the basic concept behind Kodiak pilots quite literally diving towards the ground, the quicker they were, the less likely they were to be shot down, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. As the clouds grew thinner and their pilot began to pull up, a message appeared on his HUD, informing him that the majority of their forces would now land, launching the ground assault meant to bind the enemy forces in one location and make them easy prey once ASOC could shut down their defenses. Just as their shuttle, a Kodiak fitted with equipment meant to keep it hidden from anything besides visual identification, broke off with the rest of the ASOC teams assigned to this fortress, the marines accompanying them did what they were meant to. Touching down on the dirt-brown soil that covered most of Torfan's inhospitable surface and giving the batarians the fight they were looking for.

Small figures started to make their way to one of the only notable landmarks around them, the mountainside in which the front of the base was built and took up positions. Just as their opponents opened fire, the large Paladins usually employed to break through enemy lines were detached from their own transports and without further delay tore past their smaller comrades, their purpose during this particular operation mostly being to draw fire, a task made all the easier by their unique approach to combat. As the past had shown, most non-human forces still had some difficulties when it came to actually bringing down a Paladin.

While a sufficiently mechanized military such as the turian or batarian one could respectively use guided anti-tank missiles or simply overwhelming firepower to quickly immobilize or destroy it, forces based around smaller, infantry-heavy doctrines simply lacked the amount of heavy weaponry needed to destroy something as mobile and deadly as a Paladin before it did considerable damage. The tactics both the HSA and the IFS had developed to counter each other once the combat suits had been deployed on both sides were largely based around using their own mechs to push the hostile ones into a situation where they couldn't make use of their advantage. And since the HSA, whether through genuinely being incapable of adapting the neural technology that made the Paladin's feasible in the first place to aliens or keeping the company that built the suits from doing so by more shady means, remained the sole user of the technology, that tactic wasn't an option for the justifiably terrified slavers currently pouring a volley of small arms fire down range.

"All ASOC callsigns, prepare for deployment. Get in there and shut down their defenses," the moment he heard those words he undid the harness and rose to his feet. Grabbing a hold of a sling hanging from the Kodiak's ceiling, he nodded towards the crew member who went on to pull open the door of the shuttle, revealing the air vents that would serve as their way in.

"Status update," the disembodied voice of their commander added.

"Ghost ready."

"Wraith standing by."

"Specter all set."

"Phantom in position," he finished as Hofmann took his place at the door, the winds blowing a thin layer of dust into their direction right until the Kodiak came to a sudden stop over the metal structure reaching upwards from within the mountain.

"All ASOC callsigns, your mission is a go."

That was all he needed to hear.

Jumping out of the shuttle, which left them the moment Miller's feet touched the brown soil below them, they rushed over to the airducts and got to work, cutting through the exterior of the airducts with a bright plasma torch. After creating a hole big enough for them to fit through, Haugen kicked the now loose metal penal into the shaft and heard it clitter against the floor of the airduct. Peaking through the hole, he noted the lack of gunfire in his direction and in turn figured that their plan was working as intended. Satisfied with the situation down below, the ASOC officer looked behind himself to confirm that Hofmann had made the necessary preparations and tossed a thin rope towards his subordinate who swiftly fastened it to the anchor now embedded deep in the ground. After throwing the rope through their makeshift entrance, Haugen stepped to the edge of the hole before sliding down the rope, a green filter laying itself over his vision as he got deeper into the shaft. When his feet touched the ground again, he lifted his SR-8 and scanned his surroundings, providing cover until three thuds marked the arrival of the rest of his team sounded behind him. Pointing his hand at one of the smaller entrances, he hunched down next to their path and let one member of his team go past him. As much as he disliked it, being the leader of the team meant that he wasn't supposed to take point.

"Phantom-Squad has breached the perimeter. Moving towards the objective now," he muttered into his radio as Miller took point, the marker inside their HUDs showing them where they'd be able to exit the confined airduct, or at least where ground penetrating scanners assumed they could exit. Carefully maneuvering through the dark maze of corridors, Haugen was well aware that all it took was one mistake before someone would riddle the thin metal floor below them with bullets. One too loud step, one too observant batarian or simple bad luck could put a stop to their mission before it even really began. Shoving the thoughts about his own demise away as far as he possibly could, he remained focus on the soldier in front of him in preparation for the next phase of the operation. Tapping the back of the operative's helmet as their position aligned with the spot the scanners had marked, he took a knee.

"Hold here," he whispered through the squad intercom and Miller froze in place. "That's the spot."

"Roger that, let's light this bitch up," the man replied before igniting the device in his hand. As he began to cut, a bright blue light sparked into existence and soon combined itself with the orange glow of melting metal, rendering the green filter that had previously assisted him in finding his way through the dark useless. Soon the soldier finished creating a hole big enough to fit each of the four soldiers through and yet another makeshift entrance revealed itself to them.

"Cloak and drop," he informed his unit as the soldiers began to disappear. As soon as their optical camouflage was complete, Miller jumped through the hole, landing in the hallway below them. When he wasn't immediately shot to death, Haugen and the rest of the squad followed through the hole and dropped into the dark-grey interior of the bunker, scanning their surroundings to make sure they weren't about to walk into an ambush. Normally they now would've proceeded to hide their tracks, reattaching the piece of metal to maintain the illusion that no one had entered the base, but their timeframe didn't allow for that. They had to get moving, for all they knew the slavers could already be moving their captives to an unknown location.

"Diamond formation, Hofmann you've got our back," he announced as at least removed the piece of metal from the center of the corridor before doing precisely what he wasn't supposed to do, take point. "Let's move."

The four barely visible figures formed up and began to walk through the bunker, heading towards the area orbital reconnaissance had described as being the 'most likely' location of the fortress' command center. Keeping his rifle steady and ready to fire at any moment, he spun around the corner and pressed onward, noting that there were several indentations in the walls. He had read about these things in a mission report, retractable barriers used to divide hostile forces and turn tip the odds of any fire fight into the favour of the slavers. Should they be spotted right now, they'd have to make a run for it if they didn't want to be trapped. Glancing at the map depicted on his HUD as they came up to the next intersection, facing three nearly identical pathways, he took a moment to ensure that they stayed on the right track before taking a right. After exactly three steps Haugen raised his fist, the faintest sound of boots hitting steel causing his unit to break up the diamond formation and press themselves against the edges of the wall. While the tactic was risky, chances were that whoever was about to step into their view would simply stumble past them. Their orders were clear, stay silent as long as possible. Any shot they fired from within the fortress before reaching the captives could spell disaster.

"Then tell them to hurry up," an angry sounding voice roared through the corridor, two pairs of footsteps hitting the floor in unison. "Our defenses won't hold forever. We need those transports ready right now."

"Yes, Commander," it came back and moments later two batarians, their mismatched and cheap armor indicating that they were in fact not part of the Hegemony's military, stepped into view. Haugen aligned his scope with the head of the first batarian and began to slow his breathing. They were invisible but they weren't inaudible, one of the things that was most likely to compromise a cloaked ASOC team was their enemies hearing something that caused them to look more closely. With their camo at nearly full strength and the lighting mostly artificial, they were as close to invisible as they'd ever get but that was it, they could still be heard, felt or depending on their enemies, smelled.

"What else did you have to tell me?" the commander asked as Haugen himself stayed focused on keeping his sights on the batarian's head.

"A patrol noticed damage to one of our airducts."

"Wha-" Had the batarian led with that sentence, he could've avoided what happened next.

His squad didn't need him to tell them what they were supposed to do, they simply reacted to what they saw him do. As his finger slid to the trigger and unleashed a single, silenced burst that tore through the commander's throat before he could even think about giving his reply, the head of the other batarian exploded in a similar fashion. Before they even hit the floor, the team once more began moving. If one of their breach points had been found, they needed to move. Going as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, his team followed his lead through the complex and towards their objective.

"Wait, you hear that?" Hofmann suddenly whispered and sure enough, Haugen could make out the growing sound of metal smashing against metal. Recalling the mission report he had read and remembering his earlier observation, it didn't take him long to connect the dots.

"Double time it to the objective, go, now!" he quite nearly shouted through the squad intercom as metal barriers began to shoot out of the walls behind them. Waving his squadmates past him, he realised that he had to start running right now if he didn't want to get trapped or crushed. Haugen dashed through the corridor as the metallic sounds grew louder. Quite literally throwing himself down the stairs just before one of the barriers could crush his feet, he landed hard and only noticed that the sound had stopped when his radio came to life.

"This Wraith-Lead," another squadleader began,"we hit a dead end on the third level. Rerouting to Specter right now."

"I advise against that, Wraith-Lead," the mentioned leader of Specter Squad replied almost immediately. "We just got locked down as well. Gonna have to do a lot of cutting before we're anywhere close to the target. How's it looking on your end, Ghost?"

"God damn terrible," a voice that most certainly didn't belong to Ghost-Lead replied between the sounds of suppressed gunfire. "We've got to shoot our way out. Ghost-Two, out!"

"Did anyone make it to the fourth level?" Rear Admiral Hackett, who had listened in on the increasingly worsening situation asked before Haugen's eyes darted to the map to answer that question.

"Yes, Sir," he spoke up while climbing to his feet. "Phantom-Squad got through. We're on Level Four and enroute to the objective."

"One out of four," the man muttered. "Phantom-Lead, can you reach the command center before the batarians realise you made it through or do you need the marines to break through right now?"

He had seen how these fortresses were built. A frontal assault against onea s big as this one, even with the support of Paladins, was nearly suicidal. Marines were by no means push overs but without air support, which might bring down the ceiling ontop of the people they were trying to save, they'd take massive casualties. Looking at his squad and receiving three immediate nods, he pushed the sent button on his radio.

"Yes, Sir, we can make it."

"Is that your ASOC bravado talking or is that your honest assessment, Phantom-Lead?"

"Honest assessment, Sir."

"Understood, good hunting, Phantom-Lead. Hackett out."

* * *

 _Codex: Optical Camouflage_

 _Optical camouflage or as some call it the 'tactical cloak' is one of several examples of more than one species wanting to do one thing and finding different ways to achieve it. Whether through bending the light around the user or building a suit capable of adapting to its surroundings to blend in nearly flawlessly, just about every species has at one point or another attempted to render itself by mercenaries and special forces alike, it takes a surprising amount of training before someone using active camouflage is capable of not being noticed. While the user might be removed from visual means of detection, noise discipline and control over ones movements play a keyrole in ensuring that they remain undetected._

 _While considered a new invention on the galactic scale, only being made functional shortly before the Geth War, it should be noted that humanity managed to design functioning and surprisingly simple visual cloaking technology after only 150 years of space travel, improving it ever since and making active camoflague one of the few areas in which the HSA could be considered a leading party._

* * *

 **A/N: So, here we go. This is how Torfan starts.**

 **This chapter is concluding things and setting up things and I am really interested to see just how much you can read into some of its parts from here on out.**

 **Besides that awfully cryptic line, I only really have one part that I want to talk about.**

 **I didn't actually plan for the part that concerns finding out they have to go to Torfan to be this big but.. it kind of got a life on its own and I decided to just roll with it, if it's easy to write, why not?**

 **Now, what I really struggled with was that I only really ever had one other pair of Section 13 agents to go back on and seriously wanted to avoid making Morneau and Yo-yo just a copy of Redford and Alec Shepard, the former of whom I like to think of as one of the best parts of Semper Vigilo.(sue me, I love my OCs) Sure, you could say that since they were the ones who trained they're gonna influence them but they are their own people and going from here on out, I'll be extra sure to keep it like that due to how Section 13 scenes usually work (two specialist playing of each other's personalities because just about everyone else they interact with is mostly not gonna show up again) It's really important for me that every named/recurring/main character has his or her owned defined personality and so yeah...**

 **Adding to that, I do realise that most of Morneau's scene is passive and I did that intentionally. Since he and Yo-yo follow the same principle that Redford and Alec Shepard follow but Yo-yo lacked her own introduction, something both dad!shep and Redford had before ever interacting with each other, I used this scene to outline the kind of character she is.**

 **Now... I don't really have anything else to say so yeah.. (I did realise that I say so yeah a lot in A/Ns but I don't plan on changing it)**

 **Oh yeah, I do have an excuse as to why I'm late, again, these past days I've been kind of bingewatching Life is Strange and its prequel, Before the Storm and god damn... if I ever manage to hit the levels of chemistry some of those characters have in the prequel, don't tell me cause then I'll start to get seriously cocky. I am usually not one for the kind of genre LiS is but before the storm's episode two finally managed to get me. Some of that shit was so cute, it should be outlawed.**

 **So, now I'm done.**

 **Let me know what you think about the chapter, review it, and while you're add it tell me what you read into some parts of the chapter. Mostly to entertain me.**

 **For the record we're at 312 reviews, 520 favorites and 629 favorites.**

 **See you around next time.**


	39. Ardat

**Chapter 39. Ardat**

* * *

 **4\. March 2409 AD, Torfan**

To an outside observer watching through say the security camera feed in the command center, it would've appeared as if the slavers in the corridor were struck down by the wrath of a supernatural being, facing the ghosts of those they had damned to a life in chains. An invisible force tore through them and for anyone watching, it was impossible to grasp what was really happening, let alone stop it. Death came to all of them in a swift and brutal fashion. The first one to fall died without even realising what was going on, a spray blood shooting from his chest and caused his comrade to stumble back in surprise when the dark-red liquid made contact with his face. Too stunned to act, he too died before ever getting the chance to fight back. The other slavers fared no better than them even though some managed to actually lift their rifles and get of a few shots before inexplicably dropping dead. Whatever it was that they were fighting appeared unstoppable in its onslaught. In only a few moments an entire security team tasked with patrolling the interior of the fortress currently under siege by human forces had been wiped out, their false sense of security washed away in a river of their own blood as something intangible cut through them.

However for the people actually within the corridor it was very much possible to understand what was going on. There was nothing supernatural about a striketeam using optical camouflage, the moment of surprise and overwhelming aggression to make their way towards their objective, it had been done countless of times throughout the last centuries, the quarians had pioneered the idea and the salarians had perfected it. The slight reflection of light dancing across ever so slightly visible figures, the shouting of the injured and most importantly the bullets flying through the air were all tangible. It wasn't something that transcended the laws of physic, it was the combination of training, tenacity and technology that brought death to the slavers.

"Stack up, second door on the left," he muttered, replacing the half-spent magazine of his rifle with a fresh one before climbing over the corpses now slowly filling the corridor with a large puddle of blood. As he stepped over the remains of what he assumed to be the leader of the patrol, he caught a glimpse of something moving in the corner of his eyes. One of the batarians had somehow survived the brutal ambush of his squad and was now trying to crawl towards safety. Since they could neither leave him behind, he would shoot them in the back, or take him with them, he'd slow them down and render their camouflage useless, the captain made the only other call he could make within the timeframe he had to decide. Haugen lifted his SR-8, aligned the rifle with the batarian's head and immediately fired off a lone, silenced shot, permanently eliminating the problem. Under any other circumstances, he would've given at least some thought to his actions but every second he would've spent weighing his options was another second the marines outside had to endure the full might of the fortress' defenses.

Stepping over the last dead body, he pressed himself against the wall of the corridor and advanced on the door that would lead them through the series of rooms still standing between them and the command center. When another soldier, his HUD and his gut telling him that this particular shimmer was none other than Sergeant Jordan Miller, placed his hand on the locking mechanism, he nodded. The door began to open itself and the moment he could fit through the gap, Haugen rushed into the room, rifle at the ready. Training the SR-8's crosshair over a head that was showing itself beyond the makeshift cover the defenders had set up, he fired off two bursts, one shattering whatever low-quality kinetic barriers the slaver had on him and another splitting the four-eyed head in half. In accordance to the countless of CQB drills he had run over his years in ASOC, the captain didn't stop there. Moving forward so that the man behind him could enter as well, he killed another slaver just as the first rounds came close to hitting him, tearing past his head and embedding themselves in the wall behind him. Camouflage or not, at this distance they'd hit any second now. Maintaining the speed that was so essential for these types of situations, the ASOC captain moved deeper into the room, which seemed to exit solely for the purpose of slowing down any assaults on the command center, and managed to reach a piece of cover just as a burst of SMG fire pushed his shields to their breaking point.

Leaning around a piece of cover that seemed to be as retractable as the barriers that had put Phantom Squad in its current situation, he managed to hit a batarian rapidly firing his shotgun into the doorway in an attempt to suppress someone no longer there. Haugen kept shooting right until blood exploded through the batarian's back and reacted just in time to avoid suffering a similar fate, the very audible sound of a portion of his cover being shaved off by an assault rifle causing him to start looking for alternatives. Fueled by adrenaline and the knowledge that at least one of the three other ASOC soldiers would've taken care of the shooter by now, he eyed a crate in the center of the room, an already deceased batarian lying on top of it, and threw himself forward. Landing on his belly and realising that the barrier he had just been behind had vanished into the wall, he crawled forward ever so slightly and managed to align his sights with an exposed batarian taking cover from the suppressive fire of his squad. Pulling his trigger, several rounds drilled through the flank of the slaver and caused him to fall to the ground, presumably perplexed as to how had been hit. To his credit, the alien tried to get back up and rejoin the fight right until another of Haugen's rounds turned his brain into a pink mist.

"Clear," he heard just as he was about to get up look for another target. Confident in the assessment of his comrade, he rose to his feet and made towards the next door, passing Hofmann in the process.

"You good?" the man asked as he looked at Haugen.

"Yes, keep moving," he ordered before the door shot open in front of him and Hofmann, exposing a fortified machinegun emplacement directly opposite to him. Others might have jumped to the side or frozen in spot but as the batarian braced himself to fire only a single thought crossed the captain's mind. The few precious moments it would take the shooter to realise that they were there were more than enough time for him to save Hofmann's life. Acting without as much of a moment of hesitation, he shoved his comrade to the side just as the gun began to fire.

Growing up Tore Haugen had always found it strange how many people claimed that your life flashed in front of your eyes in the moments before you died. After all, how would they know? They were still alive. Sure, the sound of the gun firing was slower than it should've, he would admit to that, but instead of reliving his happiest memories, he only saw the blue flashes of the machine gun's muzzle flashes coming towards him as he threw himself to the side. If these people were right, he should be on Terra Nova right now, not Torfan. But instead of lying on the shores the Sithian Sea, he was still in the underground fortress of some slaver gang holding well over two thousand humans hostage and instead of feeling the warm air brush against his skin, his shields shattered and a stinging pain shot through his left arm as a round somehow bounced off its armor, miraculously not taking the limb with it. If these people were right, shouldn't he land on the wet sand of a beach instead of a hard floor covered in batarian blood? Shouldn't the distinctive explosion of a grenade be replaced by the calming sound of waves?

The only logical explanation was either that they were wrong or that he had somehow survived his encounter with a light machine gun.

"Shit," he heard Miller curse as he saw the soldier rush towards him.

"I'm fine," Haugen insisted as he tried to rise to his feet, a certain light-headedness and a burning feeling in his side telling him the opposite. Placing his hand on the spot near his ribcage, he withdrew his hand and found its palm to be red. It was at this moment that his training kicked in. He immediately went for his medigel and jammed the syringe into the wound, a practice most certainly not advised by the producer but very much needed if one desired a quick effect.

"Captain's hit!" Miller called as the numbing sensation of medigel replaced the pain. The fact that he was still breathing meant that the round had missed anything immediately lethal, good, he could work with that. Applying a another dose of the product to the exit wound, Haugen turned to look at the soldier, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"I said I'm fine," he repeated before climbing his feet. "We have to keep moving."

Under any other circumstances he knew that they would've protested. Even if it wasn't fatal, the kind of body hit he had just taken needed to be treated sooner than later. Medigel was good but it didn't replace a real doctor. But as things were, evacuating him wasn't an option. Quickly checking his arm for any more injures besides the presumably dozen or so smaller bone fractures the machine gun round would've caused upon bouncing off his armor, he looked through the door and found the emplacement blown to bits, the remains of a dead gunner being the only thing standing between them and their way towards the command center.

"Fall in," he instructed before walking across the long and narrow hallways that had almost succeeded in killing him, looking at the blood stains on his armor in the process. This was the issue with the human approach to optical camouflage. While the rest of the galaxy achieved invisibility by using dozens of small mass effect generators to bend the light around them, the HSA still stuck to their version of the tactical cloak, coating every piece of ASOC's equipment with a material that, when combined with the small device on his belt, mimicked its surroundings. Instead of trying to disappear like everyone else, humanity had decided to blend in, a concept they had stuck with even after being offered state-of-the-art cloaking devices by the Turian Hierarchy several times in the last two decades.

At first glance, it seemed like a stupid choice. Compared to other tactical cloaks the human version had several drawbacks. For starters it was both incredibly expensive and incredibly complicated. Everything an ASOC operative carried that was outwardly visible like weapons, magazines, backpacks and even binoculars had to be covered in a layer of the material and other equipment like grenades or first aid items had to be stored in pouches made of the same fabric, which when covered by too much dirt, or in his case blood, still tended to at least partially fail at its task. Then there was the fact that unlike tactical cloaks, human camouflage still had a hard time to keep up the moment its user had to act at full speed. While contact with the rest of the galaxy had allowed the HSA to improve the optically active fabric to the point where jogging didn't immediately result in a complete breakdown of the camo, which it had done in the past, sprints and other breakneck maneuvers still caused ASOC operatives to turn from being almost invisible into simply appearing as somewhat pixilated figures.

However as with everything else, a first glance was not enough to explain why the HSA had decided to keep its own design. For all its drawbacks, there had been a logic behind sticking to the different and in spades inferior concept. While the mass effect generators of tactical cloaks could keep up with even the most rapid of movements, they only lasted a few minutes at most before disabling themselves to recharge, their power consumption was simply far higher than that of their human counterpart. While someone using a tactical cloak could remain basically invisible for several minutes, the optically active fabric ASOC operatives worked with allowed them to blend in with their surroundings for hours at a time. As long as they didn't move too rapidly, a team of trained human soldiers could cover well over a dozen kilometers with their camo activated, a feat necessary for many ASOC operatives but impossible to achieve with the mass effect variant. Furthermore due to the camo adapting itself to its surroundings instead of just trying to remove itself from sight by preventing light from hitting its user, a soldier capable of staying perfectly still could quite literally disappear, being nearly impossible to spot right until it was to late, yet another thing impossible to replicate with a tactical cloak, considering the subtle but still present flickering they produced by bending light.

"Breaching charges on the door," he added as he figured that the space was far too limited for a regular entry. If they just opened the door, chances were they'd fall for the same trick twice. An explosion would lower the chance of stumbling into the next killzone unprepared. After the magnetic charges had been put into position, he looked at Hofmann and gave a nod.

"Execute," the now partially very much visible ASOC operative spoke.

With the press of a button the heavy door was thrown into the room and crushed a vorcha that had been waiting beyond it with a wet crunch. Relying on their speed for a second time, the ASOC team broke into the room guns blazing. Overwhelmed by the violence of their entry, this time only a few of the defenders managed to actually fire their weapons before they fell victim to the human special forces. If the overalls most of these particular slavers were wearing were any indication, the reason for this sudden drop in quality was rooted in their proximity to the command center and the continued assault on the fortress. They had already cleaved through whatever security personal had been tasked with guarding the heart of their base and now only the slavers' equivalent of support staff remained to fight them off.

Marching through the room and putting two more rounds into the crushed vorcha just to make sure that the dark-red alien wouldn't somehow survive the loss of most of its blood, Haugen, aware of his partial visibility, decided to turn the thing that gave him away into an advantage and stopped next to the large door separating them from the command center before shooting out the cameras. Once that had happened, he pointed at the wall behind him and Hofmann placed another breaching charge next to the heavy metal frame, realising that the captain intended to surprise the slavers. They had seen him in front of the door so that's where they'd focus their attention on.

He'd use that.

Replacing the magazine of his rifle and giving Hofmann the signal to detonate, Haugen felt time slow down for a second time in recent memory but instead of staring death in the face, he found himself on the opposite end of the gun. Stepping through the sizeable hole the charge had torn into the command center, he unleashed a hail of bullets on the defenders inside. The accelerated full metal jackets tore through armor, cloth, flesh, muscle and bone. The slavers standing directly in front of the door were the first to go, cut down where they stood, unable to put up a fight. Then came the ones that had chosen their cover with the intention of flanking anyone coming through the door, they died just like their comrades, only a few of them managing to fire more than a couple of shots. Finally the attention of both him and his team shifted to the ones that had taken something akin to reasonable cover. As he and Hofmann suppressed them, Miller and the fourth member of his team, Sergeant Mavuto Oluwaseun Arendse, whom they usually simply called Mav for convenience's sake, moved across the room and exploited the situation. A series of well aimed shots later, the last flames of resistance within the command center had been extinguished.

"Alright turn everything off. If it looks important, it has to go," the captain instructed as he removed the dead batarian blocking the console closest to him. "Command, Phantom Squad has reached the command center, we're working on the defenses right now," he spoke into his radio as he flicked off a switch that seemed to power a series of heavy kinetic barriers. "Command, I say again, we're taking down the defenses right now," he repeated himself when no reply came. Figuring that he might have broken his radio during his earlier near-death experience, he turned towards one of the barely visible figures within the room. "Hofmann, I think my radio's a bust. Try to get Hackett on the line."

"Admiral, this is Phantom-Two. We've reached our objective and we're shutting down the defenses. How copy? Over," nothing. "Admira-"

"Don't bother. The ship's long range jammers just went up. Nothing bigger than squad intercom's gonna get through," Mav interrupted him as he pressed a series of buttons on a terminal next to a large, somewhat bloodied screen. Before Haugen could ask exactly what ship it was that the soldier was talking about, the blurry depiction of an underground hall with a transporter parked inside appeared on the screen. "Looks like they're trying to scram with as many hostages as possible."

"Damn," he said after finishing his current task. That particular part of the base had gone unnoticed by their scanners. As he looked at the footage of the large hangar, the inhabitants of a dozen or so crowded prison cages rapidly being moved aboard a large transport ship, he also realised that their estimation of how many of their people were being held in this fortress might have been off. While he was sure that there were other holding sites throughout the fortress, the fact that most of the cages were filled with asari, salarians and surprisingly quarians made him doubt that there were as many humans being held in this base as they had initially suspected. The ratio simply didn't suggest it.

"That's one hell of an insurance policy," Miller whistled.

"Yeah, there's no way the navy will shoot them down with our people aboard," Hofmann reasoned as a neat line of humans was marched aboard the craft. "Once they take off, they're as good as gone."

Looking at the size of the transport ship and the number of people still inside the hangar, he was confident in the assumption that not every last one of the slaves would fit aboard, there simply wasn't enough room for everyone. Going from there, pragmatic logic and the fact that their mission was to seize and defend the command center of the base dictated that they'd be able to save the majority of people by simply waiting for the batarians to leave. Once the slavers were gone, they could swoop in and liberate the remaining captives.

However he had been inside a slave barge before, he had seen the nightmares that awaited the people currently being forced aboard and he'd be damned if he didn't try to prevent that. Besides his very personal reasons for wanting to stop them, the professional half of his mind couldn't shake the thought that the slavers would resort to asset denial once they were in the clear. Chances were that they had put some sort of trap in place to spite whoever attacked their base with the intention of saving people and discourage future rescue attempt. It didn't have to be something elaborate like explosive collars rigged to blow the moment someone tried to disarm them or a bomb set to detonate once the ship left, cutting the air supply of the fortress or flooding it with a toxic gas would be more than sufficient. Right now he could still prevent that from happening, he could still try to save these people by preventing the ship form escaping. In the absence of radio contact with his superior and in the face of not knowing when they'd take off and set off any possible traps, the decision fell into Haugen's hands, a situation he was all to familiar with. He had been here before a dozen times.

The mission always came first, that was one of the lessons installed into him from the day he had first set foot into the Anaru Academy, the army's most prestigious military school on Terra Nova. No matter what happened, no matter how bad it got, the mission was to be completed at any cost, that had been the philosophy of the academy's staff. But no matter how much respect he harboured for his teachers and how carefully he had tried to stick to what he had learned in Anaru, his time with the army's special operation forces had taught him that there where cases where the mission had to come second, for example when the whole reason they had set out on it in the first place was at a risk. As contradictory as it sounded, he had to jeopardize his mission for the sake of his mission.

As he counted the number of visible guards, numbering at less than two dozens, he also tried to remember just how big the crew of the last slaver barge he and his fellow operatives had boarded under far worse conditions had been and realised that he'd need something more than his optical camouflage to equal the odds. Noticing that most of the batarians weren't wearing their helmets and therefore lacked immediate access to their night vision, a plan started to form in his head. Even though they had more eyes than everyone else, they were just as blind as the rest of them without light. If they wanted to see where they were going, they'd have to rely on flashlights which were notorious for giving away ones position without being nearly as useful as night vision gear.

"Can you cut the hangar lights from here?" he looked at Mav while taking note of the three heavily armored batarians who stood guard at the base of the transport's ramp. If the quality of their gear was anything to go by, they were either very wealthy slavers or bodyguards of someone who paid far better than the average ring leader.

They could be a problem.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. When I give the signal, I want you to darken the whole place. Hofmann" he began. "think you can lock this place down without me?"

"Sir, I don't think this is a good idea," the man replied, having known the captain for long enough to suspect what he was about to say.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"The rooms leading to here make for a nice bottleneck. Unless they come through the ceiling, one shooter shouldn't make that much of a difference."

"So that's a yes?"

"Captain with all due respect," there it was, the sentence people used before being disrespectful,"you can't honestly consider going down there-"

"These people are the reason we came here, Hofmann. We can't just let the batarians fly off with them. There's no way I'll stand here and watch them kidnap them for a second time."

"- on your own, Sir," the NCO added.

That's all he really needed to hear.

"How the hell do we get down there, Mav?"

"Stairway down the hall, hard to miss from there." the soldier replied a few moments later. Something told Haugen he had already been looking for a map when he had asked him about the lights.

"Good," he said as he once more loaded a fresh magazine, stopping only to point the way they had come from. "Miller, you stay here. Anything with more than two eyes comes through that door, you kill it. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And Mav," Haugen added as he and Hofmann began to walk through the door, "in case this all goes to shit-"

"I delete the security footage and tell them you went down in a blaze of glory?"

"Good man."

"I aim to please."

When Tore Haugen had gotten engaged, he had promised his now-wife that he wouldn't take any 'unnecessary risks', that he wouldn't go out of his way to 'play the hero', it had been the kind of promise you made to calm someone with very justified concerns about your safety. While he couldn't discuss what he did for a living with strangers, usually only giving vague answers, and the details of most of his missions were locked behind several layers of security clearance only HSAIS managed to outdo in terms of red tape, his family knew that he worked in a high risk job. They knew that every time he was sent someplace that wasn't an HSA military installation could be the last time they saw him. However what they didn't know, or most likely willingly ignored, was that the promise had been a white lie. No matter how much he tried, 'playing the hero' and 'unnecessary risks' were simply a part of what he did. Even though their success ratio was admirable even when compared to the rest of the galaxy, ASOC regularly suffered casualties. While the actual number of killed operatives wasn't anywhere close to the number of grunts that died in the line of duty, the percentage was. Special forces or not, they were just as mortal as anyone else and only the secrecy surrounding their missions and the fact that there were far fewer ASOC soldiers than there were regulars had given birth to the myth that they hardly if ever died. Breaking a promise wasn't something he enjoyed doing but as things were, there was no other way around it.

"This is it," Hofmann commented as the two soldiers came to a stop in front of a blast door.

"Mav, we've got a door. Can you open it?"

"Affirmative."

"Alright, I want you to cut the lights in our corridor," wouldn't want to tip of the batarians as to where they were coming from.

"Done," it came back to him, a green filter laying itself over his vision after a second of darkness.

"You ready for this?" he looked towards where his HUD told him Hofmann was standing.

"As ready as I'll get, Sir."

"Mav, cut the hangar lights and open the door," Haugen spoke into his radio and not a moment later his orders were followed, the two halves of the heavy blast door slowly moving apart to reveal an equally dark hangar. The moment they could, they stepped inside and the first thing that hit them was the very angry shouting of batarians and the very confused screaming of the hundreds of slaves still imprisoned in the large hall below them. His heart slowed down ever so slightly, screams were better than bullets, if they weren't being shot at it meant that his plan had actually worked.

The captain took in the area around him. At first glance it looked like any other hangar he had ever been in, the only difference being that instead of a clearly defined exit, the it ended in a tunnel of some kind. He wasn't an expert but he would've guessed that it had been dug with the same kind of large-scale mining equipment that allowed the slaver rings to construct these fortresses in the first place. While usually employed to strip mine desolate places like this, a bit of fine tuning, a bit of patience and a lot of reinforcement beams could go a long way to create an escape path like the one he was currently looking at. However the moment one looked closer than just a glance, the striking differences between regular hangars and this one became obvious. Instead of inanimate cargo and busy working crews, cages filled with people broken through months, years or even decades of being bought, sold and traded on the slave markets of Hegemony were overlooked by brutal slavers currently fumbling through complete darkness. Besides the cages and the transport craft, which now that he was up close, realised to be actually somewhat smaller than the ones he had previously seen, only machinery like loading cranes, small vehicles and unsurprisingly supply crates filled with the kind of necessities needed to operate a place like this.

"Light on your four," Hofmann whispered through the squad intercom not a minute after they had started moving.

"Smoke him." Haugen replied as he shifted his eyes to the batarian just as his comrade sent a single bullet straight through the side of the alien's head mere seconds before he could put on the final piece of his ragged and mismatched armor. With the commotion drowning out the faint sound of the lone gunshot, the ASOC operatives continued to make their way across the dark hall and towards the sparsely lit ship. Passing by a large four-wheeled loading vehicle in the process, Haugen stopped in his tracks when he noticed a light shining towards him from the other side of the truck.

"I know it was in here somewhere," a deep voice growled from within the driver's cabin, causing the two soldiers to divert their attention to it. Quickly circling around the back of the vehicle, they were now almost on top of two batarians searching the inside of the truck's cabin. "Shine in here, so I can find it."

Whatever it was that they were looking for, they wouldn't find it.

"It's just below the stee-" another voice began, only to be cut off when it heard footsteps directly behind it. As the big alien tried to turn around in an attempt to confront him, Haugen shot him in the back of his head. The body dropped to the floor and logically drew the attention of the other batarian who then received a similar fate. Blood spattered against the inside of the truck's windshield and the slaver fell back into the carfloor, dying before he could alert anyone to their presence, a last gurgle escaping from his now opened throat as he choked on his blood.

"Alright, let's keep moving," he said after making sure they hadn't been spotted, once more moving ahead of Hofmann who had provided security for the duration of his small detour. The captain picked up his pace again and his fellow operative fell in line behind him as they kept crossing the hangar, marching past one of the prison cages just as a batarian smashed his fists against the metal exterior in an attempt to quiet the still confused slaves, the light of his omni-tool, which he was using to illuminate his surroundings, being distorted for a few moments as a result.

"Shut your mouths or you'll regret it," he threatened just as Haugen let go of his rifle and gestured for Hofmann to secure him. Even though they lacked the kind of penetration power of mass accelerator rounds, human bullets had a tendency to go through multiple targets before actually stopping. While he disliked getting this close, he wouldn't risk hitting one of the slaves behind the batarian.

Slowly pulling the knife, which unlike the rest of his gear was not coated in a layer of the material used to render ASOC operatives nearly invisible, from its sheath without making any unnecessary sounds, he crept up on the slaver who was about to activate the shock collars of the slaves directly in front of him to finally enforce silence. Distracted by the task at hand, apparently not quite adept at using the technology he had been entrusted with, the batarian was unaware that something was going on until a mostly invisible hand slipped over his mouth and the cold steel of a blade opened up most of the major arteries around his neck. The dark-red blood spilled from the wound and onto both one of the asari captives standing closest to the slaver and Haugen's hands. When the batarian stopped trying to contain the flow of blood and completely sagged into the captain's grip, the soldier let go of the corpse and immediately turned it on its back. Searching the slaver's belt for the small box responsible for the treacherous orange light currently betraying his position, he heard something unintelligible from the lone slave that hadn't withdrawn to the other side of the cage by now.

"I need you to be quiet," he finally reacted to her as he realised that whatever it was that she was saying grew louder with every moment. If she kept this up, the batarians would soon come looking. Where the hell did this guy keep his omni-tool? He needed to kill this light. A pair of bloody hands floating through the air were bound to raise questions and the increasingly louder mumbling of the asari wasn't ideal either.

"Be quiet goddammit," he muttered before finding a promising satchel attached to the batarian's side.

"Ardat," the asari fearfully replied in a foreign language, indicating that his translator implant didn't recognize whatever dialect she was speaking in. "Ardat," she repeated louder just as he finally found the cable he was looking for, ripping it out and separating the omni-tool from its wrist projector before rapidly withdrawing from the corpse. "Ardat!" it kept sporadically echoing behind them in a series of asari voices, only the fact that the other cages were being just loud enough to distract the batarians in the keeping them from being made then and there. Whether the inhabitants were aware that something was going on and actively trying to cover for their potential saviors or if they were actually as terrified of the dark as the audible disarray suggested was not a question he cared to answer.

"What the fuck was that about?" a whisper came through his helmet as they got closer to the transport's ramp, the three guards he had spotted earlier dutifully standing in the dim light of the ship's interior lamps while their comrades were picked off one after another.

"Damned if I know," he reasoned as the two operatives spotted two slavers in the process of setting up some kind of floodlight. "I've got left," the captain didn't need to add anything else to get his intention across.

"Copy that, right," the sergeant confirmed before two more corpses hit the ground. Silencers and background noise really were among his two most favorite things at the moment. On any other day, at least the guards trying to keep a column of shackled humans moving not twenty meters to his right would've heard them but as things were, the two soldiers truly lived up to the motto of the Army Special Operations Command.

The intangible really was indomitable, especially if the odds were stacked into its favour.

"Forget it, cut them loose. Time's running short," a voice spoke from the darkness before a flashlight shone across the faces of the human captives currently being moved to the ship.

"Fine. As long as you explain it to the commander," another replied while Haugen and Hofmann stopped next to the ramp, two invisible lasers coming to a halt above two separate batarian faces.

"He's the one who told me to cut them loose, you idiot," the voice replied. "The humans have breached the fortress outer perimeter and the buyers are now paying us to get them off of Torfan before they get here. Looks like we're taking over your jobs," the slaver finally called into the direction of the ramp, the angry shift in one of the heavily armored batarian's face telling him that they really were bodyguards.

"Whatever you say," a pause followed as the guards stepped into the light of the ship." It's your lucky day, humans. We're leaving. Enjoy your life while it lasts," he didn't like the sound of that last part.

"Eight targets," he muttered, normally this wouldn't be a problem for an ASOC team. Hundreds of hours had been invested into perfecting the art of taking down several targets at the same time, it formed an integral part of how the four-man teams regularly took on forces several times their size. But since they were only two of them, the other half of Phantom Squad still holding down the command center and ensuring that the marines could dissemble this place room by room and hopefully find the missing slaves, it was something akin to a problem.

"Heavy's first," he instructed as his finger slipped over his trigger guard and centered his aim right between the four dark eyes watching for any movement in the mostly dark hall, "then the regulars and then the crew."

"All set."

"Execute."

When the captain began pulling the trigger, he already suspected that he'd need more than a few shots for the bodyguards. Since their gear already looked expensive, it wasn't a surprise that they also wore kinetic barriers. The first five shots of his SR-8 harmlessly bounced off of the protective mass effect field surrounding the guard, only the bluish flashes that appeared with every hit and the fact that the batarian was still alive even revealing that they were present. In the time it took him to sent the sixth shot, which finally broke through the barriers and the seventh shot, which killed the bodyguard just as he had turned towards Haugen and lifted his rifle, Hofmann had been somewhat more productive, dispatching his own target and moving onto the third one on his own accord. Having had enough time to react due to the death of his two comrades, the bodyguard managed to jump into cover just as his barriers failed him, his shouts for more defenders effectively ending their concealment.

It had to happen eventually.

Realising that he wouldn't leave his cover anytime soon, Haugen used the little surprise they still had left to shoot the still exposed slavers before emptying the rest of his magazine into three unarmed crew members trying to unlock what he suspected to be an emergency weapons rack meant to be used against hostile boarding parties. Removing the now empty magazine from his rifle, the special forces soldier quickly reloaded before climbing up the ramp, Hofmann closely behind him.

"Go right," Haugen ordered before moving to the left himself, his sights trained on the last known location of the bodyguard. The two operatives quickly closed in on their target and when they were right on top of it they spun around it, ready to attack the batarian from two sides. It wasn't a fair fight, mostly thanks to their optical camouflage still somewhat increasing the time it took the shotgun-wielding batarian to realise that someone was actually standing in front of him. The blood Haugen had collected over the last thirty minutes might have made parts of him visible but even then the combined fire of both soldiers was more than enough to end the body guard before he could pull the trigger, something the captain was very much thankful for. He had already been shot once today, as far as he was concerned that experience didn't require repetition.

"Go to the engine room and make sure this thing doesn't take off. I'll see what I can do with the bridge," he called to Hofmann before climbing a flight of stairs that he suspected would eventually lead him to the command center. While their size and purpose varied, ships made by Batarian State Arms tended to share a similar layout. As it turned out, the state-owned enterprise liked streamlining so much that they extended it to all aspects of their production lines, even the interior design of their ships.

Going 'lone wolf' had always been something Tore had both disliked and avoided at any cost. Being on your own wasn't exactly the ideal scenario in any hostile environment, especially one as confined as a spaceship. You had no one to watch your back and no one to help with covering all the hatches, doors and corridors that an attacker could jump from at any given moment. Contrary to what the kind of person who'd say they were better of on their own would claim, it made you more vulnerable. Soldiers lived and died at the hands of their ability to work with their unit, ASOC teams were so good at what they did because they functioned as a collective, not four separate people and even HSAIS' most elite covert agents preferred to have a partner with them if the situation allowed it. Everyone he had ever talked to about the subject knew his opinion on it, working alone got you killed.

Yet he found himself passing through the dark-brown corridors of a batarian transport by himself.

Today really was a strange day, wasn't it?

Breaking through an entrance of what he hoped to be the bridge after shooting two guards rushing towards him, the captain instead found himself standing in a sleeping quarter of some kind, several beds, shelves and five angry slavers standing opposite to him. As with a lot of the people he had bumped into over the course of his stay on Torfan, they weren't exactly happy to see him. When the rounds bounced off his shields right until he spun back around the corner, he didn't even bother to consider going back inside. Instead of exposing himself to the lethal bursts of mass accelerator rounds, Haugen opened one of the pouches attached to his armor and tossed the disk-shaped charge into the room. Three seconds and one detonation later, the captain only quickly checked for survivors before moving on. He couldn't keep wasting time like this, even if Hofmann managed to cut the power to the engines, he still had to get to the bridge to prevent whatever deadly thing the slavers had planned for those left behind.

Breaking into the next room in the hopes of correctly recalling his last journey aboard a slaver barge, the ASOC operative stumbled into the wrong room for the second time in a row,finding a small control station of some kind instead of the bridge he had been hoping for. Moving towards the large glass window situated in front of the terminal, images of the first batarian assault on Mindoir flashed through his mind upon looking at the crowded holding cells below him. Dozens of people were crammed into the small rooms, the dampened sound of human crying causing anger to surge in the bottom of his stomach. All it would take was the flick of a switch, he could free all of these people right now, end at least some of their pain.

No.

Stopping his hand short of the switch, he realised that he needed to take care of the bridge and the slavers first. If he let them go now, he'd put them in even more danger. As cruel as it sounded, the fact that they were slaves was the thing keeping them alive. If the armed guards were faced with the release of all their captives, they'd start shooting. If they started shooting, they wouldn't stop until every last one of the people below was dead. Leaving the room with a heavy heart and the promise that he'd return shortly, Haugen once more moved through the ship until coming to a stop in front of the door he was certain belonged to the bridge.

"Engine room secured," a quick update came through his radio.

"Good work."

Third time's the charm, that's what they said, right?

The secret about being successful in close quarter combat was actually very basic. Speed, aggression and commitment. That had been drilled into his head during one of the earliest combat scenarios he had taken part in during his stay in Anaru Academy. While a sizeable portion of humanity considered it incredibly questionable that fifteen year old cadets were being taught how to quickly and efficiently sweep a room, Haugen himself could never really find anything negative about the practice a bunch of groups called 'political indoctrination of the worst kind'. It gave people who planned on committing themselves to the military a headstart, something that could eventually save their lives later down the line. As the bloodied, ghostly figure of a man jumped through the door of the bridge and began firing onto anything looking remotely like a slaver, he was certain that these people would change their minds if they were in his shoes. All it took to alter one's perception on a subject were circumstances. As his bullets found their mark in the backs of several crew members, he for one was glad for the additional years of training. It had made him who he was right now, it had given him the foundation he had built his life on and it had lead him to this very moment, given him the abilities he needed to save the people suffering under the horrors of ruthless slaver rings.

It was strange to say that he was exactly where he belonged when said where was the complete chaos of a shootout inside a slaver ring's secret underground base but even as he let go of his rifle, threw a charging batarian to the ground and shot him in his face with his pistol, he couldn't deny how complete he felt right now. He had never enjoyed this part of his job before. Killing had been something he had grown jaded to over the years, at first it had been necessary evil committed for the sake of something greater than himself, then somewhere down the road it had turned into just another part of his training, something he did without giving it a second thought. He shot so he and his team wouldn't get shot and he killed so whoever was on the other end of his rifle wouldn't kill someone else. But right now, as a batarian tried to bludgeon him with a fire extinguisher only to have his neck broken as a result, he felt more than the surge of adrenaline that usually fueled him during a fight. It was the same kind of desire for vengeance that he had felt during the closing hours of his first encounter with slavers eight years ago that drove him. And quite like back then, it was almost like he wasn't entirely present for the whole ordeal. He realised what was going on, yet most of what happened seemed to be mostly out of his control. He simply let his training take the wheel, figuratively sitting back and watching the events unfold as they happened. While it felt like a small eternity, it hadn't taken him long to clear most of the bridge, only one particularly heavy-set batarian now lying in a puddle of his own blood putting up something akin to a fight. He had cleaved through the bridge crew just like one would expect a highly trained and highly motivated special forces operative to cleave through a bridge crew. He was aware that somewhere along the way his camo had failed him, otherwise he wouldn't be able to see portions of the green digital camo through the blood that had collected on his hands. Maybe his generator had been hit, maybe something else had broken, he didn't know.

What he knew was that the only thing left to do was to take care of the two visibly terrified batarians shakingly pointing their meager looking pistols at him, only the two civilian targets between him and them, one asari and one human keeping them alive. Their appearance had been what had snapped him out of the semi-autopilot he had been in up to now.

"I said-" the young looking batarian in bluish robes stuttered as the middle-aged man he was using as a shield dug his fingers into the alien's forearm, "dro-drop it."

"We'll kill them," the other reinforced by pressing the barrel of his gun into the temple of the stoic asari he was holding hostage. He was noticeably calmer than the other one, that made him the more dangerous one. "Lower your weapon."

While he hadn't been in a whole lot of hostage situations, none actually, his ASOC carrier being distinctively more conventional than the ones shortly after the Fringe Wars, he had gone through enough simulated scenarios to know that first and foremost he should try to talk down the hostage takers, get them to lower their guard until he could take a shot. Luckily, or depending on which side you were on sadly, he had never been much of a talker.

They wanted him to lower his gun? Alright. They could have that.

Accuracy, like any skill, was something you learned by doing it over and over again. Every human that served in a special forces unit, be it N7 or ASOC, went through intensive fire arms training for both long-range and close quarter situations. The exercises were timed, variable and most importantly frequent. Haugen tipped the barrel of his gun down ever so slightly, giving the batarians the impression that he was complying. Falling for the bait, the one who had pointed his gun at the hostage up to now made the mistake he had been waiting for, aiming at Haugen himself and exposing himself ever so slightly in the process.

It all happened in a flash, a single bullet went through the blue robes covering his chest, ruptured his right lung and punctured his heart. Before he could think about pulling the trigger, the batarian was dead. Then Haugen, as practiced, shifted his aim and put a shot clean through the other batarian's gun, taking off a chunk of his hand in the process and allowing the human to free himself. Once the obstruction was gone from his line of fire, he put two additional bullets through the alien's chest, causing him to collapse and cough up his own dark-red blood.

"Please, I beg you," he spoke as Haugen walked over to him, the memory of a slaver looking strangely like him tormenting a girl on Mindoir surfacing once more."I'll give you anything, credits, a ship, weapons, property, anythi-"

The first punch that shattered his needle-like teeth might have stopped the begging but it didn't stop the images. Humans being put in shackles, an armored gauntlet broke the several noses of the alien. Batarian doctors cutting up his people and turning them into obedient slaves through some sort of implant, another punch caused blood to seep from the batarians face. Thousands of innocent people being condemned to a life of terror and suffering for no reason besides personal profit, he felt the jaw of the unconscious batarian break under the weight of his fists. 'Final chance, get up or I put you down for good,' a deep voice echoed through the back of his head as the pained face of a young girl lying in the grass not two meters in front of him stared directly at him, her expression crying for his help just as his fist came down on the mangled face of the batarian for a final time.

"Sir?"

He couldn't undo any of these things. Those who had died would stay dead and those who were trapped on Khar'shan would very likely stay there until their final days.

"Captain, are you alright?"

He couldn't save them. But there was something else he could do.

"Haugen!"

He could give them payback.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied before rising to his feet and inspecting his bloodied knuckles. "Did we win?"

"I sure hope so," Hofmann nodded before giving the corpse a small kick. "Because if we didn't we're dead and if we're dead and this is our version of the afterlife, I already hate it."

"Word."

* * *

 **Three Hours Later, HSASV Austerlitz**

How he had gotten here had been far less blurry than the events on the bridge. His team had been picked up by a Kodiak, debriefed, treated for their injuries and sent on their merry way with the knowledge that the attack on Torfan was considered a success. While only finding roughly seven of the nine thousand missing colonists, the HSA had apparently freed a whole lot of non-human slaves as well and every council ship in the vicinity was currently being called to aid in their evacuation. The early headcount suggested that nearly thirty thousand slaves had been held across the various bases and smaller outposts discovered during the fighting and just about all of them had been liberated. Then, after dinner and a much needed shower, he had been recalled to the operation's room of the Austerlitz for a small chat with the admiral himself.

As he had said, far less blurry.

"Do you know who you just killed, Captain?" the raspy voice of Admiral Hackett spoke through the hologram projector, the bluish projector giving his voice a slight mechanical tone.

"No, Sir," the ASOC captain shook his head.

"That bastard," the picture of the one batarian that had put up a somewhat decent fight came into view,"was the biggest slave runner of the whole Traverse. He and his gang sacked hundreds of worlds in the last three decades and fought of every attack on themselves up to now. Called themselves 'the Undefeated'."

That explained a thing or two.

"And these two," he recognized the two as the buyers who had taken hostages,"were part of military top brass," the admiral explained as the soldier studied their faces. "HSAIS identified them as first cousins of the Balak family head and by killing them you just pissed of one of the most powerful families in the Hegemony," a pause, "They'll want blood for that one, Captain. Batarians are some of the most unforgiving sons of bitches in the galaxy, the moment they hear what you did, they'll put a bounty on your head."

"Meaning, Sir?"

"Meaning that you did damn good work down there," the admiral nodded before straightening himself. "A lot of the people back on Arcturus would call you a war criminal if they ever saw the recordings of the operation, they'd say that you beat an unarmed man to death in a fit of uncontrolled rage," he had been waiting for that.

"Sir, I'll take full responsibility for what I did," there was no reason to deny it.

"Son, if it were up to me, I'd pin a bunch of medals on your chest," the admiral corrected with a wave of his hand."The ones who'd do that weren't on the ground and until they actually get their asses in gear and save hundreds of people from getting shipped off to Hegemony space like you just did, they have no right to burn you," the admiral locked eyes with him. "The recordings of your helmet camera were corrupted by the ship's jammers and considering the bounty the Hegemony will put on your head, I'll redact your name from any report that doesn't go straight into lock-up. For your own safety, no one's ever gonna hear the details of this one."

He merely nodded as reply.

"Get some rest, Captain, god knows you earned it. Hackett out," the man spoke before exchanging salutes.

He'd get some rest but first he had to make a call.

It had been a long day and there was only really one person he wanted to talk to right now.

* * *

 **2\. December 2409 AD, Blue Suns Frigate 'Lockpick'**

"So what does this mean for us?" Zaeed Massani spoke as he rotated the damaged helmet he kept for nothing but sentimental reasons in his hands before tossing it to the man who currently shared the briefing room with him and the other Blue Suns leaders. Inspecting the cracked piece of armor a few moments before setting it down on the table, he leaned his back against the wall.

"It means that the whole reason we created the Blue Suns in the first place is now gone," Commander Holderman, their Cerberus handler shrugged. "With asari media outlets still bloating up the whole story and the HSA doing its best to keep the flames going, slaver bands are running to the Terminus Systems faster than you can say 'deniable black op'. They're all scared shitless of the big old 'Ardat-Torfana and want nothing more but to put as much space between them and him.'"

"And all of that just because you saved some matriarch's daughter?"

"Not any matriarch's daughter, Massani." Holderman reasoned. "Helia T'Lias, who happens to be one of the largest shareholders of the D'Lao broadcasting company, has been looking for her daughter ever since she went missing during the batarian invasion of Esan over two centuries ago," long life spans really were a bitch in cases like that one, while he didn't have any children himself, he could picture how terrible it would be to know that your missing daughter could still be alive two hundred years after she went missing, "and right when she's about to call the search off, we come knocking on her door, her Kalis T'Lias at our side."

"Pure coincidence, I'm sure," the former sergeant muttered. He'd be damned if HSAIS or Cerberus or whoever it was that was running the show these days hadn't done something to make the matriarch think that her daughter had died right before they could bring her home. If she had been looking for her daughter for two centuries, what were the odds that she'd consider stopping right before the HSA could return her home? While he didn't regret fighting for them, years of operating outside of its ranks had allowed him to see that at times the Human Systems Alliance could be incredibly opportunistic and a tad too manipulative for his own liking. In his younger years he might've hated the IFS with a burning passion but the older he got, the more sense some of their gibberish started to make.

"And a fortunate one at that," the Cerberus officer pointed out."T'Lias was more than grateful when her daughter returned home. She practically jumped at the chance to do us a favour. A few tweaks to the story, a few credible sources-"

"-and the might of the biggest independent news outlet in the galaxy," Zaeed injected.

"-later and you got the perfect recipy to terrify even the most hardened slavers."

"We've been shooting these bastards for years now and all it takes is one good lie and they pack things up and run back home," Kuril, the most senior turian member of the Blue Suns chuckled.

"Sometimes the pen is mightier than the sword," the Cerberus officer shrugged.

"Anyone ever tell you that you humans have funny sayings?" the turian said as his mandibles clicked into a slight smile.

"It'd be even funnier if it wouldn't make me jobless," a third Blue Suns commander injected

"I wouldn't worry about your job," Holderman retorted.

"I thought you said we're done," Kuril recalled as both he and Zaeed looked at the man.

"I said the reason we created you no longer exists," the human clad in a white dress uniform corrected before tossing a small data drive towards Zaeed. "I didn't say you're done."

"The hell's on this?" the Blue Suns veteran asked as he passed it down the line of assembled commanders after a short inspection.

"Your new set of orders," the man explained. "We might have created your organisation for somewhat selfish reasons," it was true, the Blue Suns had been founded soley to keep slaver bands off of the HSA's back without risking a war with the Hegemony, the fact that they'd save the lives of thousands of people had simply been an added benefit," but you've become so much more than a deniable black op. You're a spark of hope for a lot of people and these days, hope goes a long way."

"Damn right we have," he grunted in approval as the other commanders, especially the three turians, stood a bit straighter. "So what happens now?"

"You're not done, you're just getting started."

"Do go on."

"We want you to follow them," Holderman explained. "Just because the slavers are running away from the Fringe doesn't mean that they stop existing. They might not be our problem anymore," the Cerberus officer continued before locking eyes with Massani in a fashion similar to the day he had found him in a bar on Terra Nova,"but as long as they're around they'll still someone's problem. Given that you'd go after them either way," Zaeed couldn't deny that they hadn't considered it prior to this meeting, "we figure the best outcome for everyone is that we simply adapt the status quo to the situation."

"How so?"

"This entire operation has been far more successful than we initially planned it to be," he'd take that as a compliment,"so we'd like to expand it. Give me a list of what you need to scale things up and I'll see what I can do for you."

"What kind of scale are we talking about?" another turian commander asked before sticking the data-drive into the holo-table of the room and folding his arms in front of his chest, waiting for the projection to assemble itself.

"Have any of you ever considered what you'd do with your own assault carrier and a planetary base?" the officer asked as the depiction of a small moon and an outdated Everest-Class in the process of being retrofitted by an automated shipyard appeared in front of them. "Because I know I have," he smirked.

"You're fucking with us, aren't you, Holderman?" Zaeed muttered in disbelief. "How the hell are you going to explain that one to the public?"

"We won't have to, you're looking at the Broad Peak."

"Wait, didn't the Broak Peak buy it during the Fringe Wars?" a human commander injected, the grey fade of his hair making it very likely that he had been around for the occasion.

"Yes, it got hit on Dark Thursday, half the crew didn't make it," Zaeed confirmed. "Which makes this all the more interesting."

"Everest-Classes are tougher than their crews," Holderman argued before walking over to the table."Originally the wreckage of the Broad Peak would've been moved to Bekenstein's moon and scrapped for spare parts but since just about everything useful was broken, the navy towed it to Mars to eventually scrap its hull."

"Then what happened?"

"Before they could do any major scrapping, the Fringe Wars ended," the officer explained,"and with the Killimanjaro-Class entering service, the shipyards were too busy for the Broad Peak's corpse."

"So the navy gave it to you?"

"Not at first, no. They might have the second biggest budget of all uniformed services but they're still a greedy bunch. As far as they were concerned the few cruisers they gave to Cerberus were already more than enough."

"What changed?"

"Times," the man shrugged. "Bottom line is we finally got it a five years ago and have been fixing it ever since. Unless something goes horribly wrong, it'll be done in seven months."

"If you wanted it so badly, why are you giving it to us?"

"Didn't take you for one to look the gifted horse in the mouth, Massani," Holderman chuckled. "Cerberus works best in the shadow and as much as it pains me to say, we haven't figured out stealth dreadnoughts. Also we don't have nearly enough people to run it at full efficiency."

"And we do?"

"Not yet but you could. As I said, you've become so much more than a black op," he looked around the assembled group,"Folks look at that white circle on your armor and see something more than just a person. Use that to make even more of a difference," he extended his hand towards Zaeed. "Any more questions?"

"Just one."

"Shoot."

"Is it Christmas already?" Zaeed chuckled. "Because right now it sure as hell feels like it."

* * *

 _Codex Skyllian Blitz:_

 _The Skyllian Blitz, a failed batarian invasion the Skyllian Verge, was a brief but significant conflict fought over the span of several months and dozens of colonies that resulted in neither the HSA, backed by the Citadel Council, and the Batarian Hegemony, backed by various Terminus nations, losing or gaining any territory. Instead of altering the borders like they had hoped to and repeating the practice of claiming previously settled planets as their own, the batarian military instead suffered a moderate but still morally-crushing initial defeat at the hands of the human defenders. Originally hoping to swiftly conquer some of the larger colonies of the Fringe Worlds such as Elysium, Mindoir and Camelot, the batarians were drawn into a several month long stalemate before rumored internal strife and the threat caused by both turian and salarian forces joining the fight and lingering just outside of their borders forced them to the negotiation table._

 _While not a very costly conflict for either side, the final death toll numbering at only roughly five hundred thousand, the real significance of the Skyllian Blitz was first and foremost that it reinforced the idea which the Human Mercenary Intervention, the induction of their first Spectre and their contribution towards the Citadel Defense Fleet had already planted in the heads of the galaxy, the HSA would sooner or later join the ranks of the 'big three'. Furthermore the Skyllian Blitz, more specifically the Battle of Torfan, also resulted in another significant development, permanently ending the slaver threat in the region and solidifying the HSA's relations towards the various independent planets of the Verge, making humanity the de-facto guardian of dozens of wealthy corporate worlds willing to share their riches with their new protectors._

 _However not every result of the conflict was positive. As a direct consequence of the ceasefire that resulted in the current state of coldwar between the HSA and the Batarian Hegemony, the Goyle Administration saw a decline in popularity, causing the ruling party, the Systems Alliance Foundation which had been in power for most of the HSA's history, to only barely gain the majority in the elections of 2410, hitting a historic low in the process. Additionally the previous belligerence towards the IFS, which had suffered a series of blows to its credibility ever since the closing year of the Fringe Wars, began to shift towards Arcturus, returning the separatist movement to the level of prestige it had enjoyed before Andrej Kamarov's assault on the station. (See Entry: Elysium War) Due to IFSDF remnants joining the fight against the batarians at the side of their previous enemy and playing a keyrole in the defense of several smaller colonies, the Skyllian Blitz became an even bigger victory for the Independent Fringe Systems._

 _As a result of their involvement and due to having never fought against them themselves, the newest generations of HSA soldiers had now developed a dangerous bond with groups the HSA still considered separatists. Many of these soldiers were simply reassigned into territories with insignificant IFS activity but several ranking military officials who deliberately ignored orders to engage IFSDF forces for the duration of the war faced court martial charges in regards to insubordination and misprision of treason. While most of them were found non-guilty, three were dishonorably discharged as a result of their actions. Additionally to these high-profile cases, small parts of the HSA's military, more specifically young servicemen hailing from the Verge, began adopting a worrying sense of revisionism in regards towards the IFSDF, moving away from their traditional portrayal as traitors and deserters and colouring them as people who much like they themselves fought for their homes, ideas and values but happened to stand on the losing side of the war. Even though a begrudged sense of respect had always existed between the IFSDF and the HSA's armed forces, the level of sympathy towards the separatist movement spiked after the Blitz._

* * *

 **A/N: Goddammit these delays are getting out of hand, I wanted to have this out three days ago...**

 **But alright, let's not get into the very nasty habit of being late that I seemto develop now that we're closing in on our one year anneversay (at the end of november, Semper Vigilo will turn ONE! :D) Let's talk Torfan.**

 **Now, to start things off, I'd like to point out that I never specified what kind of renegade this background would be, so for those who suspected it'd go down like in canon (read that as an incompetent infantry officer wasting 90% of his unit because he's a fucking idiot), I don't really apologize for taking a different approach. This isn't Shepard. Shepard was really fucking fresh when Torfan came around in canon, he wasn't even an N7 back then (I'm saying he because for god knows what reason I always picture the renegade background as a dude) Haugen is... well, no need to sugarcoat it, compared to Shepard at that point in time, Haugen is much more experienced, better trained and most importantly in a way different position than him.**

 **I realise that by calling him Demon of Torfan, I let a lot of you to believe that he'd turn into some sort of onemanarmy and slaughter half of Torfan by himself but since I already had Shepard's background being the "turns the battle by herself" trope, I decided that for Haugen, I wanted his background to be much more... 'personal'. On the grand scale of things, any other ASOC dude could've done what he did but since these missions/events are supposed to shape the character into the direction they were going, I decided that Torfan works best as a much more brutal but also much more grounded story that uses his other background (Mindoir) to sent him down the not-so-pretty road. Sure, he's a specops dude with years of work on his back, but did you really believe I'd have him murder hundreds of batarians all by himself :P?**

 **So what I'd like to know now is who saw the twist of the whole Ardat-Torfana thing being more of a myth than an actual reality coming? Who managed to use the little detail that the name of his background was asari in origin to piece together that the Demon of Torfan is basically a case of a galactic media outlet showing just how good they are at spinning things a certain way? (right here I'd like to point out that this is in no way a commentary towards our very own 2017 media, SV is not politcally motivated, pls no review hate)**

 **Also who figured out that the whole reason I used Hackett was because Arrival showed us that he's totally down with covering shit up?**

 **Just me?**

 **Alright.**

 **Now the other segment of the chapter (by the way, originally Torfan was supposed to be short but somehow it turned into the longest scene I wrote up to now), there's no real point in it besides explaining how the Demon of Torfan came to be and giving you a clue as to where the Blue Suns will be when Shepard runs into them.**

 **So yeah.**

 **Finally I'd like to say that the next chapter is actually going to be the one which does the next portion of time jumping and that, spoiler alert, it will very likely (I might change my mind) set up Akuze...**

 **There it is again, the A-word I keep mentioning... weird, ain't it?**

 **'Why does he keep pushing Akuze back?' they ask. 'It should've already happened', those aware of the timeline cry...**

 **fear not lads, the lone survivor background is right around the corner and by the time you read the next A/N you will very likely ... no I already said too much.**

 **Stay tuned.**

 **For the record we're at 317 reviews, 537 favorites (17 in one chapter is a lot dudes, keep it coming) and 644 follows (15, not bad.)**

 **Review and let me kow what you think about the chapter, I always like reading and as all know, I reply to all of your questions in cryptic, douchebaggy ways! Don't miss that.**

 **See you around next time.**


	40. The Ties That Bind

**Chapter 40. The Ties That Bind**

* * *

 **19\. May 2411 AD, Earth, Rio de Janero, Interplanetary Combatives Academy**

"You should all be incredibly proud of what you've achieved. Where others turned back, you pushed on. Where others failed, you didn't just prevail, you succeeded. Ever one of you has proven themselves to be both a remarkable soldier and, whether you're officers or not, a capable leader," the commander of their training class went on, his words still amplified by the large speakers behind him. "From here on out, you're part of a small but elite unit, a brotherhood you'll be hard pressed to find anywhere else. From here on out, you're a credit to the uniform you're wearing, an example others will strife towards. From here on out, you earned the right to call yourselves N7," as if cued, the instructors that had previously done their best to make their life a living hell walked towards the assembled soldiers and started to attach the small, white emblem for which all of them had worked so hard to their dress uniforms.

This was it, the moment she had been waiting for the last two years. The straining opening stages of selection, the hellish endurance test of the Crucible, the countless of sleepless nights and painfilled training sessions, the rigorous standards they had to maintain throughout all of it. Everything had let up to this moment, the good, the bad and the ugly times, all of it paid off now that the small insignia was embedded in the fabric of her uniform. Every time she had pushed herself harder than she though she actually could, every injury she powered through, every nearly impossible problem she had tackled, the fact that it had earned her this emblem had made it all worth it. As the last of the twenty seven trainees that had completed all seven phases of the program received his emblem, the commander's voice once more echoed over the sunny parade grounds.

"No matter the obstacles, no matter the opposition," he repeated the mantra by which N7s were supposed to define themselves. "From here on out, you will be victorious," he took another break, inspecting the small formation in front of him. "Dismissed."

Whoever had called the commander a pessimist, would've certainly changed their mind after hearing this speech. In spite of her better knowledge, Emily currently felt just about invincible. Luckily this was Earth and not Elysium, that particular feeling was as pleasant as it was dangerous. Once their commander had left the small podium on which he had been standing for the past two hours, the freshly graduated N7s briefly snapped to attention before jokingly being ordered to 'scram' to whoever it was that they had invited to this whole ordeal.

"Enjoyed the speech?" she sheepishly smiled towards her parents, one wearing a uniform very similar to her own and the other wearing civilian attires that did a good job at hiding the fact that he, much like the two red-haired women he accompanied, earned his living by actively running into the direction other people usually ran away from.

"The navy sure knows how to put up a show. All we got was a badge and-" a swift elbow jab to his rips followed by a painful grunt interrupted whatever joke her dad had been going for.

"Dress blues suits you. I'm glad you finally came around," her mother added as she tucked at the collar of the uniform, removing some perceived imperfection. Now that Emily was had graduated from N-School, her mom had gotten her wish after all. Since they were a part of the navy, her black marine uniform had been one of the many things she had to leave behind upon completing the N7-program.

"The armor's still black," she pointed out before embracing her parents. "So I'm afraid I won't be forgetting my roots anytime soon. Sorry, mom."

"A mother can dream, can't she?" the older Shepard woman chuckled as they began walking. "Have you gotten your posting yet?"

"Before you answer and say that it's classified, remember who you're talking to," her dad added. He had a point. Between an elite HSAIS operative and a high-ranking naval officer well on her way to command a dreadnought, either of her parents could probably access that particular piece of information through official channels with little to no problems. She couldn't keep it hidden from them even if she for some reason felt the need to do so. Such were the drawbacks of working in the 'family business'.

"HSASV Hong Kong, patrol duties in the Verge," she replied, drawing very different replies form her parents.

"The Hong Kong's a good ship," her mother offered.

"The Verge's shitty place," her father countered at the same moment, causing them to look at each other with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"So I guess they'll balance each other out," she shrugged. "Besides, you've seen these guys," she nodded towards the group of N7s chatting with each other in the distance. "They can handle a few pirates," she knew that she was downplaying the whole situation but she'd rather not spent their family time being worried. Even though it wasn't anywhere near as dangerous of a posting as it had been in the past, there was still a risk attached to being assigned to the Verge and by extension the Fringe Worlds. Slavers might've left the region following the whole 'Demon of Torfan' incident but pirates and separatists still kept the HSA on its toes, the former too desperate, piracy was a dying business wherever turians showed up and as things were, the Verge was one of the view places devoid of them, and the latter too motivated, the IFS wasn't going to give up on the wave of popularity they were riding in the Fringe anytime soon, to leave.

"I'm not worried about them, I'm worried about you," her dad sighed as he ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "But if you insist on chasing the bad guys, I'd rather have you do it with them."

"This is as close to 'I approve of your decision to commit to N7' as we'll get him today," her mother injected while patting his chest. "We're both incredibly proud of you, Emily, it's just that-"

"I'm your dad and that I'll never stop worrying about you," her father added as he pulled his hands from his pockets. "It's just what dads do. Even if I wanted to, I can't help it. So if I ever sounded like I don't approve of what you chose to do with your life, it's because I love you and because I couldn't live with the thought of something happening to you."

"I know," she didn't need to say more, the second, much tighter embrace did the talking for her. She hadn't exactly expected this day to become this emotional this fast but these things simply happened, "and even if it can get pretty annoying sometimes," a muffled laughter escaped the man's mouth as a form of acknowledgement," it's exactly what makes you such a great dad."

"When are you moving out to the fleet?" her mother asked after the moment had passed.

"Not till the end of the month, they gave us two weeks off," she answered, remembering the timetable she had been given a few days ago. When she noticed the smirk that appeared on her mother's face, she grew somewhat worried. "Why?" she asked with a hint of hesitation.

"Because I think this might be the only opportunity we'll get for a family trip to Rio in the next couple of years," it was a reasonable assumption. Between their work and the sheer amount of time simply reaching each other took out of whatever vacation they got, spending more than few days together was rather difficult. "What do you say, we leave this place behind us and go someplace less," she paused, "worky."

"I like the sound of that."

* * *

 **2154 CE, Citadel, Embassy Area**

The hooded alien stepped out of the elevator and began his walk towards his office. He was relieved that yet another meeting of the Council had passed. Jumping between the role of Valern the salarian councilor and Valern the STG agent involved in a conspiracy that included among others the 79th commander of the turian Blackwatch, which was almost unanimously considered to be the most efficient military formation in the galaxy, the director of the human Section 13, one of the few intelligence agencies STG was willing to consider their equals, the daughter of one of his colleagues, who had not only disproven ancient history as the galaxy knew but also given them one of the most useful pieces of evidence up to now and his very own go-to Spectre, Saren Arterius, had been taking its toll on him these last few months. On the one day he had to deal with dalatrasses, journalists and angry ambassadors and on the next one he had to coordinate STG assets operating without the knowledge of the Salarian Union, playing his part in trying to uncover what Doctor T'Soni had called 'a genocide of unrivaled scale and scrutiny'.

If he hadn't been born a salarian, he would most certainly experience the effects of sleep deprivation by now.

And as if his own role in coordinating these things hadn't been enough, he also had to deal with his other obligations. Conspiracy or not, Valern was the councilor of the Salarian Union, albeit not the one the dalatrasses had asked for. It was a duty he took just as serious as expected. Unbidden or not, he had been given the immense responsibility of acting as the bridge between the galaxy and the Salarian Union, a task made all the harder by the fact that he constantly had to suppress his real personality to maintain his cover. Valern the councilor was a very different person from Valern the STG agent. One was diplomatic, the other preferred action over words. One tended to mediate between two rather opposite colleagues by subtle means, the other wanted to smack their heads together and point them at the real problem. Finding new ways to deny the Vol Protectorate a seat on the Citadel Council for establish the galactic economy as it was today would matter very little once the Harbinger decided that they should receive the same treatment the protheans had before them.

Hiding his internal turmoil as he greeted yet another political figure on his way towards his office, Valern couldn't deny that yet another part of him, to be more specific the one who had been schooled in the matters of warfare and deception by the very best commanders of the salarian military, was more than simply dissatisfied with the way this entire situation was unfolding. Salarians, more than any other species or culture, recognized that knowledge was power. Ever since his ancestors had first banded together in the clans that would eventually form the noble bloodlines now ruling large swaths of the Salarian Union, they had fought and won their wars by deception, espionage and initiative. The rachni had been defeated because STG had identified their weaknesses and uplifted the krogan to exploit them. Then, once the Krogan Rebellions broke out, it had been his people who had given the turians the ability to turn the krogan's biggest strength into their greatest weakness. These and many other victories had been made possible because they had known their enemies better than they had known themselves.

Yet in spite of that tradition, the more they learned about what he had at first yet another of his mentor's practical jokes, only the reports and the detailed recordings Cozek had delivered alongside the story and his general behaviour on that fateful day convincing him to sit down and listen to what he had to say, the more Valern realised that from a salarian point of view, they were losing.

Badly.

Critical pieces of information, for example the timing of each step of the Harbinger's plan and the troops involved in them were simply inaccessible for them. They had no idea when, where and with what they'd be attacked. Even on the defense, the forces of the Salarian Union struck first and without warning, wiping out attacking forces through surprise attacks hours before the enemy's own assault. It was a proven strategy. But the more time passed, the clearer it became that this strategy simply wouldn't work against this foe. With a lack of intel on which they could base their attacks on, the salarians would be forced to adapt a more 'turian' doctrine for the first time in over a thousand years, which was were the real problem came into play.

The Union's military wasn't designed to fight the defensive war of attrition General Arterius had justifiably been planning for ever since meeting Doctor T'Soni. Months or even years went into the preparation of brief but devastating opening attacks which allowed them to throw their enemies of balance by taking out the most vulnerable parts of their forces, commanders, logistics and reconnaissance. Once that had been achieved, one crippling blow would follow the other and before their enemies could retaliate, the war they had so carefully planned was decided. Every last fire fight, skirmish and engagement was either fought on the terms of the salarians or not fought at all. It was a doctrine tested throughout two millennia of galactic history and only the most dire of situations had managed to force the salarians to abandon their usual approach to warfare.

Unfortunately the more they learned about the Harbinger, the more likely it became that they'd have to do exactly that. While he knew several STG officers that could get their job done even under those conditions, having proven themselves capable of winning outside of the traditional strategies, realistically speaking he also knew that the odds of the Union's forces triumphing in a war of attrition that began outside of their comfort zone were minimal. A few dozen good STG officers couldn't pull their entire military out of the fire that was slowly but surely consuming it. While the militaries of the the other two council members were still considerable, the HSA being the only instance of any non-council member even coming close to matching their naval might in centuries, the Salarian Union and the Asari Republics had increasingly come to rely on the turians to keep the peace and when necessary fight the war.

Before the Rachni Wars, the Salarian Union had fielded the biggest ground military in the known galaxy, millions upon millions of soldiers standing ready to do the dalatrasses bidding. Additionally just about every single one of the individual states which made up the Asari Republics had maintained a sizeable military force composed of experienced and deadly biotic militias. However following the massive casualties of the conflict, the now traumatized states had abolished the conscription that had fueled these armies and passed the responsibility of providing most ground troops on to the krogan, who unlike the asari and salarian people remained without qualms about throwing entire armies at any potential enemy of the council. While the armies of the krogan grew with every passing year, access to new technologies and more importantly worlds besides Tuchanka causing their population to explode, the council members themselves reformed their own armed forces into smaller, more specialized, professional militaries with the intention of simply stopping future wars before they escalated to the scale of the Rachni Wars, hoping to prevent a loss of life by preventing a loss of peace.

This particular solution had worked until the Krogan Rebellions had turned the Council's loyal protectors into the Council's worst enemies. While the warning signs predating the start of hostilities had given STG, the then newly founded Spectres and the famed asari huntress squadrons ample time to prepare and execute the kind of devastating opening attacks salarians favoured, the sheer size of the krogan military had prevented the Council from subdoing the rebels before attrition had entered the playing field. Faced with yet another enemy who's main strength lay in his numbers, the Citadel Council had only been saved by the intervention of the Turian Hierarchy, which unlike them had maintained an army built around the concept of winning a war by whatever means necessary, including attrition. After the fleets and legions of the turians had given them the forces needed to defeat the krogans, the role of peacekeepers had been passed on to yet another species willing and able to muster enough soldiers to police Council space. Ever since then the turians had formed the raw muscle of the Citadel Council and ever since then the Union's and Republics' ground forces and general military spendings had continuously shrunken to a shadow of their former selves.

If Arterius was right, something most of the evidence they had gathered suggested, the reliance on the turians could very well spell doom for the galaxy. Besides the turians, who's sheer military strength and culture gave them the ability to fight half the galaxy and still come out as the victor, Valern could only really think of one other species which would potentially be able to win through sheer attrition, the krogan. But as the fates, or rather the facts, would have it, the genophage had rendered the fallen species incapable of doing the one thing that had drawn the Union's attention towards them in the first place, fighting wars. A single krogan was formidable and a clan's worth of them could terrorize entire planets but as things were, there simply weren't enough of them to make any real difference in a war, the genophage had made sure of that.

And even if there were, he doubted that they'd even consider helping them for a single second. Why would they? He knew he wouldn't.

After shoving those thoughts out of his head through a brief chat with the C-SEC officer currently tasked with guarding the restricted areas around the councilor offices, Valern entered his private room and set down at his desk with the intention of finally getting to the issue several dalatrasses had asked him to resolve. Even if the Union considered everyone, even the asari and the turians, a potential enemy and had detailed plans to 'neutralize' the threat they could pose, it still went through great lengths to maintain good diplomatic relationships with the rest of the galaxy. While they weren't nearly as powerful as the salarians, the hanar were an important trading partner of the Union and as such the dalatrasses ruling the colonies closest to their space had requested that he'd use his position to ensure that it stayed that way. Even if he didn't like them very much, he knew that working with them made things easier for him. The more he did for the dalatrasses, the more likely they were to get off his back. As such he wou-

His eyes almost narrowed as he caught the slightest shimmer of light within the corner of his room, only his espionage background allowing him to pretend that he hadn't just spotted the effects of a tactical cloak. If he tipped his opposite off right now, chances were that he'd die momentarily. Before he made a move, he needed to get a better grasp of the situation. Keeping up the illusion that he was still working by going about the task at hand, a series of questions began to race through his mind.

Who was watching him from the other end of his office? Was it a spy? An assassin? A Spectre?

How had they gotten into his office in the first place? Countless of layers of security and state-of-the-art scanners should've discovered them before they even got close to it. The measures had been created and tested by STG, they were considered impenetrable.

Why was the intruder here? To kill him? To talk to him? To observe him?

Were there more than one? If yes, how many? Were all of them armed? Could he take them?

And finally, did they know about the pistol his hand was now firmly grasping below his desk? Were they aware that his finger was inching closer to the trigger every passing moment?

"STG trained you well, didn't expect to be spotted this soon," the reveal of a distinctively salarian voice aware of his background caused his eyes to widen ever so slighty. "Suggest that you either shoot me now or let go of the gun and listen."

So much for that.

"Why are you here?" he asked, not even bothering to keep up the act or let alone ask who he was talking to. If the intruder had gotten here unnoticed, the odds of him revealing his real identify on a whim were nonexistent. Besides, the intruder could be anyone. A spy of a powerful dalatrass, a member of STG that had found out about his conspiracy, an agent of the Shadow Broker, it was all the same to him at the moment.

"Good, didn't shoot me. Excellent choice," the shimmer disappeared and not a moment later a salarian with teal skin appeared in the corner of the room, walking towards him as if there wasn't a gun leveled directly at his waist. If his outfit was anything to go by, which it most certainly wasn't, he was a dock worker. Valern couldn't see a kinetic barrier generator or a weapon, his opposite only wore the device that created his tactical cloak. "Dying would've complicated things," the salarian added before looking to the chair. "May I?"

Valern nodded.

"Asked why I'm here," the stranger replied as he sat down and interlocked his fingers. "Simple answer. Wish to have brief conversation with you."

"About what?"

"You're unbidden councilor, just like Agent Cozek before you," how did he know about Cozek? As far as just about everyone was concerned, a career politician by the name of Idril had ruled before him. Valern slapped himself for the question. He probably knew about Cozek the same way he knew about him. "Two consecutive councilors elected without consent of dalatrasses and general shift in Inner Cabinet's politics show promising progress and present unique opportunity."

"For whom?"

"Salarian people. Time will come when you have to make a decision, Agent Valern," the teal salarian began once more making sure to clarify that he knew exactly who Valern was. "Future of salarian people will depend on which side you choose. A few hundred have ruled over billions based on nothing but blood right for two thousand years and Union has watched them do it. Unacceptable and illegitimate system has brought enough suffering. Needs to end."

"What's the nature of the decision?" he asked, looking to get as much knowledge out of the stranger. He didn't need to identify the origin of his views, the kind of mindset he seemed to have was not exactly exotical throughout the groups that had separated themselves from the Salarian Union.

"In the near future you will have to decide between two sides, one seeks progress, the other seeks power. Have faith that you will recognize which one is right," the other salarian said as Valern considered pressing the panic button next to his gun, if only to get the stranger arrested and interrogated.

"How so?" Valern asked.

"Haven't shot me yet, haven't called for security," he shrugged. "Willing to listen, able to make correct decision."

"To make correct decision, I need to know who sent you," the councilor countered.

The salarian's mouth twitched into a smile as his hands reached into the neckline of his grey dock worker outfit, pulling out a necklace to which a small medallion resembling a Jeshesh, a bluish, twelve-pointed flower native to the jungles of Sur'Kesh known for being immune to both ageing and wether, was attached. To most salarians it meant nothing beyond a general representation of the wheel of life, one of the few spiritual concepts most of his people shared, but to an STG agent it was far more significant. The design of this particular medallion was one of the best kept secrets of the Union and only selected STG agents being groomed for leadership positions or high-level intelligence work like he had been before Cozek had pulled him into his conspiracy ever got to see it, making forgeries and therefore impersonation not just improbable but basically impossible. Valern rarely if ever got confused, confusion was the result of a lack of knowledge and he always took care to know what was going on, tt made his duties much easier. But if there ever was a time to be justifiably confused, it was this one. No amount of preparation and training could've prevented his visible surprise and if the look of the stranger was anything to go, that's exactly the reaction he had hoped for.

"You were hunted down, STG killed all twelve members of the League," he stated as he eyed the symbol belonging to the group that had turned on the Union shortly after the foundation of the Citadel Council. As a sign of good faith, the dalatrasses and the Inner Cabinet had declassified the identities of all of its members and had paid the price for it shortly after. Every part of his mind was telling him to pull the trigger right now, the League of One had been hunted down for a reason, they had murdered the entire Inner Cabinet of their time before vanishing without a trace. The first attempt to bring them to justice had been an utter disaster, bringing up no results and a lot of dead operatives and only the second attempt to put an end to them had been successful. Following their intial failure, ten of the best agents STG had ever produced had been sent after the League of One. As expected from agents of their prestige, they had completed their mission but the price had once more been incredibly high, only two had returned. It was a statement to both STG's commitment to any assignment and to how dangerous and capable the League of One had remained even when everyone had turned on them. That alone should've made the choice obvious. Yet for whatever reason, maybe it was an unhealthy amount of curiosity, his instincts were telling him to keep listenting to the salarian and no matter what was going on, Valern always listened to his instincts. They had never failed him.

He still kept his finger on the trigger though.

"Whoever said there weren't thirteen?" the teal salarian smirked as he pointed at the center of the flower, the touch of his finger causing it to emit a golden glow. "STG launched operation under false assumption. False assumptions always lead to failure," the stranger noted and without further notice got up and walked over to the balcony of the office, opening the door in spite of the security mechanisms put in place to prevent just that from happening and causing the councilor to stand up, who now aimed his gun at the teal salarian to keep him from leaving.

"Don't move," Valern called as the stranger did the exact opposite and strolled right through the door, leaning against the railing of the balcony, taking in the Presidium and looking back to Valern. "What will the choice be? Have to be aware of it's nature. Won't allow you to leave until I know," the STG agent insisted.

"Won't shoot me, have already established that," the stranger countered. "When time comes, you will be," the teal salarian muttered before looking over the balcony. He was waiting for something, that much was obvious. Then, just as sudden as he had gotten up, he climbed onto the railing. As he balanced on top of the thin metal rail, he cracked another smile at Valern, completely unaffected by the long fall he was just one mistake away from starting. "Enjoyed our conversation, Councilor. Suggest that you inform C-SEC to improve security of balcony exterior. Would hate to see you assassinated."

If he wanted to make a move, now was the time. The overload program or a gunshot weren't an option, both would cause the League of One member to fall to his death. If he wanted to stop him, he had to grab him. Even for a salarian Valern was fast, so the distance between them shouldn't be a problem. But before he could act, the teal salarian simply turned his back to him and took a casual step forward, dropping off the balcony in the process. The STG agent shot into action just as the stranger's head vanished beyond the metal railing, his naturally quick reflexes allowing him to grasp what was happening sooner than most other people. When he reached the edge, he looked down but instead of seeing the stranger fall to his death, Valern only saw him climb into the interior of a black skycar silently hovering just below his office. Within the span of a few seconds teal salarian looked up, threw him a mocking salute and closed the door of the vehicle, which then vanished into thin air. Yet another tactical cloak. As the faint noise of the car flying past him disappeared, Valern did the only other sensible thing he could think of right now.

Removing all evidence of this encounter.

Even if his duty demanded that he'd immediately relay this information to the Salarian Union, he knew that doing so would blow his and Cozek's cover stories and put everything they had worked for in jeopardy. Only a selected number of people had known that Idril had been an STG plant and even less people realised that Valern was more than 'Idril's' protégé. He could remove the audio of the recording to maintain his cover but doing that would raise the question as to what it was that he didn't want people to hear him say, creating a very similar problem. And even if he removed the audio, his visible lack of a reaction to a strange intruder appearing right in from of him would still put off a lot of people. Valern the councilor was supposed to be a career politician, career politicians didn't pull guns on potential assassins, they called for C-SEC to do that for them.

With a sigh, he brought up his omni-tool and began working on the security feed.

Some day all of his secrets would come crushing down on him but until that day came, he'd do his best to keep them secret.

* * *

 **Spring of 2155 CE, Thessia, Dormitories of the T'Lav University**

It was the only possible solution,no matter from which angle she looked at the problem, no matter how many practical tests she ran with the hopes of achieving another outcome, no matter how badly she didn't want it to be true or how much she refused to accept it, it simply was the horrifying reality she now lived in.

The tea machine was broken.

Deciding that the very human solution of 'hitting it till it works', wouldn't change anything either at this point, Liara accepted that she'd have to get through the next stack of papers without a beverage to keep her company and began to head back to her room for the fifth time that night. It wasn't the first time she was working through the night because she had gotten side-tracked from her duties as a faculty member by one of her side-projects, be they her own research or the sporadic and at times seemingly random tasks and questions General Arterius sent her way. Even though she no longer had the luxury of living in a turian military installation, if one could even apply the term luxury to the incredibly spartan quarters she had worked from, and being literal steps away from the primary source of new bits of knowledge, her expertise had still been required even after she had discovered that her 'ridiculous and unprovable' theory in regards to the end of prothean civilization had been correct. Whether being asked to review the findings of field teams or give her own theory on the countless of unique and fascinating but ultimately unrelated artifacts the turian, salarian and human agents had located across the galaxy during their search, the general still considered her expertise as a valuable asset he used whenever he felt the need to do so.

She appreciated it even if it made some of her days far too long for an average asari.

Fumbling with the opening mechanism to the room that was technically only her office but also served as her bedroom on at least half the nights of the month, the archeologist stepped into the dark room and knocked the door close with her heel, intending to drop the stack of papers onto her desk.

"Doctor T'Soni,"it came through the darkness.

"Goddess!" she shrieked in a rather embarrassing fashion before recognizing the flanging voice and calming down. She knew who it was and he would certainly not be a danger to her.

"Apologies, I didn't intend to frighten you," the turian spoke as she turned on the lights and realised that he was in fact not the older but the younger brother. Making assumptions on someone's identity based solely on their voice could create these kinds of mistakes if two people sounded almost the same. However even if she had been wrong about which Arterius it was, the fact that he was not dangerous to her remained.

"Agent Arterius, what are you doing here?" she asked, surprised that he had come here in person. In the day and age of nearly instantaneous communication, it was rare for any of the people she worked with to actually show up on Thessia. Walking past him and dropping the stack of paper, which she by some miracle had managed to hold on to, on her desk, she looked at the turian.

"Your room was open and I found waiting here preferable to standing in your hallway. I didn't want to frighten the rest of the university either," the turian clad in white armor explained. She could see that point. "Although they're probably awake now anyway."

"I meant what are you doing on Thessia," the young doctor clarified, still slightly flustered.

"Oh, of course," his mandibles twitched for a moment. "Didn't you get my message?" he asked, perplexed.

She hadn't.

Why?

A wave of her hand brought up her omni-tool and sure enough, there were several unread messages there. Most came from rather unimportant sources but the one sitting just between advertisement and a university memo hailed from an up to now unfamiliar contact. She hadn't even noticed its arrival in between all of her work. Mentally beating herself up for missing a potentially important message due to being focused on work, the asari offered an apologetic smile once she read its content.

"What is it that you want to show me?" she asked, causing the turian to pull a small, tubular object from one of the compartments of his armor.

"This," he said as he handed it to her, her first instinct being that its coloration, material and most importantly the state it was in indicated that it had to be prothean.

"Where did you get this?" she asked as she sat down at her desk, shoving books, already corrected papers and flowers that had been sent to her some time ago to the sides to make room for this much more interesting object.

"I procured it from a smuggler ring I've been tracking for some time," something told her that she didn't want to know in what state the previous owner of the greenish-black piece of metal was. "And from what I could gather, it might be useful to us, so I decided to bring it to you."

"Withholding prothean artifacts is a serious crime, Agent Arterius," she muttered idly while rotating the tube in her hands, spotting a small but noticeable indentation in its surface. She'd come back to it in a little bit

"Spectres are above the law, Doctor T'Soni," the turian reminded her. "The salarian I took it from thought it might be some kind of map," he further explained. "I hoped you could be more specific than him."

"An intact prothean star chart would be something incredibly rare," she spoke as her mind tried to remember how many of them had been found over the years only to come up with none. In the past it had been assumed that protheans had some other way knowing where they had to travel but knowing how their society had come to an end, Liara began to suspect that they might have intentionally destroyed all records of their worlds to delay their doom. "Did he happen to mention where he found it? Knowing its origins could help us to determine when it was created."

A short but painfully awkward silence followed as the turian averted his cold, blue eyes from her, looking into the distance, searching for something that would catch his attention instead.

"No," he replied as she looked at him, a realisation hitting her, "he wasn't exactly cooperative after I shot him."

In retrospective, she could've guessed that answer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offen-"

"You didn't," the turian ensured her before looking back at her. "So what can you tell me about the artifact?" he asked after another pause.

Completing her initial visual assessment of the artifact, which had mostly considered of being fascinated by the faint green lines running through its black surface, the archeologist once more waved her hand, this time at the device, to confirm what her gut was already telling her. Like all other examples of prothean technology, it emitted a small but still detectable amount of ionizing radiation. Being turian and as such having a natural tolerance towards lower levels of radiation, it was no surprise that Agent Arterius hadn't noticed this and as long as she didn't plan on carrying it with her for several days, she would be fine as well. Lacking any other readings that should raise her concerns, she put the device down and looked at the turian.

"It is definitely prothean. Now I can't say for sure if it's a map," she began only for the words of one of her own professors coming to her mind. Interrupting herself, her index finger slit into the small indentation she had previously been able to notice and lingered for a moment. "If an obvious solution to your problem presents itself, don't be afraid to use it," she muttered before gently pressing downwards.

"What do you mean by tha-" the turian was about to ask when a greenish projection consisting of countless of small dots appeared in front of Liara's face.

"Turn of the lights, please."

"That was fast," Saren argued before the darkness returned to the room, allowing her to observe the projection more clearly.

"This is amazing," she whispered, trying and failing to recognize if she was looking at stellar constellation or something else entirely. She knew she should've spent more time on astronomy.

"That's the Attican Traverse, isn't it?" the Spectre wondered, giving her a much needed clue. Now that she knew what she was looking at, it was easy to recognize the most distinctive shapes. She had been to some of these systems in the past, yet others she didn't recognize at all. The protheans really had explored much more of the galaxy than them.

"Your salarian was right," Liara said. "It is definitely a map," her mind began to drift. There had to be dozens of unexplored sites on this. This little tube asked so many questions she looked forward to answering. A sense of excitement washed over her.

It didn't last that long.

"Thank you, Doctor T'Soni," the turian said as he leaned against the desk. "With this we might find what we're looking for after all," he added before pressing the same indentation again, causing the map to vanish.

She also could've guessed that he wouldn't just leave the prothean map with her. The lack of tea was really getting to her, wasn't it?

"I'll make sure to get you a copy of this within the week," he promised as he held up the artifact for a final time. "Thank you for your time."

"We can make the copy right now," she countered. "It'll only take a few hours," a small chuckle escaped the Spectre's mouth. "What?"

"I think you still have work to do before that sun rises," he countered while stashing the tube back in one of his armor's compartments, nodding towards the slowly rising ball of light in the distance in the process.

"What wor-" of course, the papers. "Goddess," she placed her hands in her face as she realised that it was far later or more accuratly far earlier than she had initially realised. She always lost track of time when she worked, it was a bad habit.

"Enjoy your day, Doctor T'Soni," the turian offered on his way through the door, "and at least try to catch some sleep."

* * *

 **17\. June 2414 AD, Cronos Station**

"Not feeling it, are you?"

Lowering the SIS-10, a gun specifically designed to meet the needs of Section 13, he inspected the small set of holes in the human-shaped target opposite to him and after making sure the safety of the weapon was in place, reached for his SIS-8.

"Not, really, no," Daniel Morneau replied before firing of a series of shots into a target further down the range, managing to achieve an even tighter shot grouping in the process. The size of the rounds should've made it impossible but somehow he had been even more accurate than before. "It's just not the same as real bullets."

"Of course it isn't," the brunette specialist sighed as she walked up next to him, grabbing a hold of the newer pistol he had just discarded with the intention of one-upping him. "That's half the point of a mass accelerator," she added before three miniscule holes appeared in the center of the most distant target's head, the rounds simply going straight through the thin paper instead of shattering and unfolding their full destructive potential. "How long will you keep holding onto that old thing anyway?" his partner asked as she nodded towards the SIS-8 in his hands. "You already skipped out on the Phalanx, it's time you get with the times, old man. The future's not gonna wait for you to catch up."

"Old man? Last time I checked you were three months older than me," he snorted."Besides you make it sound like I'm the only one still walking around with one one of these," tapping the side of his weapon before removing the magazine, Morneau stored the gun in its holster and walked away from the otherwise empty shooting range and towards the table on which the last one of the guns they were supposed to test rested.

A lot of specialists still preferred the aged weapon over newer models, if not out of nostalgia then simply for the reason that it was still incredibly reliable and incredibly familiar. While it didn't quite have the punch of a mass accelerator, it was still a sturdy and precise gun. He'd bet his life on the fact that he could bludgeon someone to death with a SIS-8 and it would keep firing afterwards as if nothing had happened. The same couldn't be said over the more refined weapons Yo-yo had brought him here to look at. For all their advantages, mass accelerators were noticeably more sensitive than their purely mechanic human-made counterparts. The small internal computers responsible for shaving off the sand-grain sized rounds that gave the weapons their reputation for having 'unlimited ammunition' and 'unrivaled penetration power' didn't exactly respond well to blunt force trauma and while in theory offering a fantastic solution to ammunition shortages, the fact that most of the hand guns already needed to cool down after a dozen or so shots significantly longer than it took him to simply reload didn't do them any favours either.

"Come to think of it, you were still using one yourself some time ago," he countered after thinking back to their last mission, idly inspecting the SR-9, the mass accelerator rifle which was supposed to replace the current hybrid design serving as the HSA's standard issue assault rifle and was currently being introduced to selected army and marine units.

"Time's change, Morneau. You plan on using a SIS-8 till they stop giving you bullets for it?"

"Well, I stashed a lot of rounds over the years," he said in a halfway serious tone, scratching his chin in the process and looking at the slot in which different kinds of mods could be put into. With older human weapons you had to load different kind of bullet for everything, be they armor-piercing, incendiary or explosive, with this 'Valkyrie' you simply had to flick a button and you were good to go. It might not have been as sturdy as the SR-7 or SR-8 but it definitely had its advantages, versatility among them. He'd give the designers that much.

Could've picked a better name though.

"So you'll keep using it till it falls apart?" Yo-yo asked as he returned to range and steadied the rifle's buttstock against his shoulder, throwing a final look at her before taking aim.

"Sounds like a decent plan, doesn't it?" he offered before squeezing the trigger, the minimal recoil of the gun making it far easier for each of his shots to hit the center of his target.

"It really doesn't," if he had to assign a tone to skepticism, it would've been the one of that reply. "It sounds like an absolutely horrible plan."

"Your concerns have been noted," the specialist chuckled as he passed her the gun, the look he threw towards his last target offering a subtle challenge in itself. Picking up on his intentions, his partner delivered, the fact that her shots were going straight through his own hits speaking for both the rifle and the talents of its current handler. Lowering the weapon with a satisfied smile of her own, the brunette pressed the rifle back into his hands-

"Well it's your loss," she shrugged before a handwave brought up her omni-tool, most likely to let whoever had put her up to the task of testing these guns in the first place know that they were done. "You're the one missing out on some serious firepower."

"I think I've got stopping power covered," he countered, picking one of the shell casings off the ground and flinging it right through the center of their last paper targets, the faint purple glow emitting from his hands in the process indicating what he was referring to. "Besides, as long as you're around, I won't have to worry about firepower," he added before nodding towards the small holes in the target's head. "Now I believe there was some mention of a reward when you talked me into helping you with this?"

"Was there?" Young replied while typing away at her omni-tool with a sheepish smile.

"There was."

"Come on, it didn't even take that long," she argued.

"Still dragged me out here on my day off to get a second opinion," he countered.

"Isn't the fun we had reward enough?"

"Nope. You'll have to do better than that. I sacrificed a good chunk of what precious little free time HSAIS allows me to have so I could give you a hand. Fun just doesn't cut it."

"Don't pretend you had other plans. I know you, you never have other plans."

"Actu-"

"Morneau," a familiar voice spoke as the doors opened behind him, causing both of the specialists to turn into the direction.

"Good morning Alec," Yo-yo greeted as the the older man swiftly walked towards Morneau, a tablet in his hands and a somewhat worried expression on his face.

"Shepa-" he got out just before he caught the small computer flying towards him, "Alright, what's up?"

"Get your stuff, we're moving in ten," the specialist explained before looking at the other specialist currently occupying the firing range, placing a hand on her shoulder once she began walking. "Sorry, not you. I'm afraid you're sitting this one out."

"At least tell me what's going on," she frowned, too professional and too aware of how Section 13 worked to even try to talk her way into whatever it was that he and Shepard would be doing from here on out. While the other specialist gave a brief summary of why he was here, Morneau tried to make sense of what he was looking at. What the hell was a Cerberus research team doing that far into the Attican Traverse? There was nothing but backwater in that particular part of the galaxy. Furthermore why was Director Rei personally sending them to respond to their distress beacon? Reading further into the report and finally reaching the part where it mentioned that an entire platoon of marines had gone dark the moment they had made Planetfall to investigate the signal only somewhat answered this question. Search and rescue wasn't the kind of job Section 13 was sent to do. Recovering valuable sources of intel was one thing, evacuating at least a hundred people was a whole other story. That was the kind of work you sent N7 or ASOC to do. Come to think of it, what were that many Cerberus operatives doing in one place anyway? That wasn't how they usually did things. Furthermore he couldn't help but wonder why was Rei launching a rescue operation in the first place. Unless there was something seriously wrong with Shepard's intel, which he doubted, the marines had only touched down four hours ago. That alone seemed like an overreaction to him. What could cause Rei to overreact like this? The man was collected, even by Section 13's standards.

"Long story short, we've got a serious problem and Redford won get here until it's too late. It's a two-man job and if I can't have Redford, I'm at least taking Section 13's only biotic with me," he finished his explanation with a look to Morneau himself before making his way towards the door he had come through not a minute earlier. "Come on, our ride is already waiting for us," it echoed from the corridor outside of the firing range.

"You owe me one, don't you forget that," Morneau pointed at Yo-yo on his way towards the door, picking up his pace to catch up to the senior agent.

"I'm sure you'll remind me of it," she called just before the door closed behind him.

"So, you're going to tell me what's really going on now?" he began while handing the tablet back to Shepard. "Because as far as the official story goes, this isn't exactly our job."

"I would if I could," the man sighed as they marched through the corridors of Cronos Station, the closest thing HSAIS had to a headquarters. "This is above my paygrade, Morneau. I know just as much as you do. Whatever it is that Cerberus is really doing out there is locked behind more layers of classification than I've ever seen and in my experience, shit like this is what gets people killed."

He could agree with that sentiment.

"Flying blind," he figured, "already liking our odds."

Even if Section 13 operated on a need-to-know basis most of the times, neither of the two specialists were particularly happy about the distinctive lack of knowledge that surrounded this surprise-deployment. Not only was it strange that they were being sent on a search and rescue operation, it was also rather unusual that they were going in on such short notice. Normally days, weeks or even months went into the preparation of their missions, meticulous planning and detailed reconnaissance guaranteeing that they'd succeed but this time the complete opposite was the case. They didn't know the situation they'd be heading into and they didn't know what would be waiting for them once they got there.

"I'm serious, I fully expect this to go sideways. Pack like it's the end of the world," the older specialist instructed as they walked into the armory holding their gear. After pulling out the footlockers holding their armor, they always remained packed just in case they had to leave in a hurry, Shepard headed towards the heavier equipment immediately.

"That bad?" Morneau muttered as he began filling a backpack with everything he could possibly need for this kind of mission.

"I tried to access the related files to get a picture of what was going on but I couldn't get in. My security clearance wasn't high enough to get beyond the encryption," the man replied before grabbing an SR-8 of one of the weapons racks in front of him, "and that's only ever happened two other times. Something about this entire op just feels wrong," he finished before inspecting the sights of the weapon.

He saw Shepard's point.

To him it seemed as if Cerberus had gotten itself into something that could never reach the light of the day. The only reason he could think off that Director Rei would sent Section 13 to do a job regular special forces could do just as well as them was that all of this had to vanish deep inside HSAIS's sealed archives the moment it was taken care off, it had happened before. Whenever a problem needed to be solved without reasonable proof of it having existed in the first place ever reaching the public, people like Shepard and Morneau were sent. Besides one very public failure, the destruction of Illyria at the hands of Andrej Kamarov, the long dead Butcher of Elysium, not a single deployment of Section 13 had been made public knowledge. While their existence wasn't a secret, a quick extranet search brought up countless of articles and conspiracy theories on 'Section 13 of the HSAIS Bureau of Field Work', concrete knowledge of their missions was basically nonexistent. But even in cases like these the specialists involved had known exactly what was going on, they had to in order to get the job done.

So why wasn't this the case today? What was different from before?

"I'm getting that impression as well," he nodded before closing the backpack and throwing it over his shoulder. "Where is it that we're going anyway?"

"Some backwater called Akuze," Alec Shepard shrugged as he lifted both his footlocker and the bag of weapons he had collected in the last minute from the ground.

"Never heard of it."

"Yeah, me neither. You set?" he asked, waiting by the door.

"Let's get this done."

The two specialists left the armory and quickly made their way to one of Cronos Station's hangars, which true to HSA's design philosophy was located close by. Once they had covered the small distance between the two points and reached the docking bay in which the ship that would take them to the far-end of the Traverse in less than two days, a combination of well-placed primary relays and the top speeds the ship could reach shortening their travel time immensely, Morneau let out a small whistle the moment he laid eyes on the craft. Looking like a strange blend of human and turian technology, the frigate reminded him more of a fighter craft than it did of a spaceship.

Well, an extremely upscaled fighter craft.

"Didn't know the navy had cleared them for flight yet," so this was it, the collected efforts of years of cooperation. It certainly looked every bit as impressive as top-brass was making it out to be.

"They didn't."

"Spotty intelligence and an untested ship," Morneau chuckled. "Think we pissed someone off and now they're doing their hardest to get rid of us?"

"It's not untested. It flew here, didn't it?"

"Fair point," he admitted as he eyed the writing on the green hull of the craft while they walked past it on their way to the air lock. 'Ain Jalut'.

"Besides, the turian ones are working like a charm."

"Ones? They got both of their ships flying already?

"Normandy fell behind scheduel. Turns out building more than one of these things at a time is asking a lot of the navy's eggheads," the man explained. "Also, the Hierarchy has far more sophisticated shipyards than we do. I would've been worried if they hadn't beaten us to the punch. You don't want the turians to start slacking off."

"Specialists, right this way," one of the naval officers that had passed the rigorous procedure needed to be cleared for serving aboard one of the HSA's stealth ships greeted them. "You're being expected in the briefing room."

The airlock sealed behind them not a moment after they had stepped inside and before they had even cleared the CIC, a quick look over the crew members working at a breakneck speed told him that they were just about ready to take off. When the door to the briefing room, which oddly enough lacked the traditional projectors seen aboard other human vessels, closed behind them, the lights shut off and a blue figure appeared out of thin air. Apparently the budget of the Normandy-Class had included the same kind of hologram tech installed aboard Cronos Station.

Neat.

"Shepard, Morneau," the highest ranking member of Section 13 said as his bluish figure folded his hands behind his back. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions but before we get there, let me give you the whole story." If he planned on telling them the whole story anyway, why hadn't he put it into the official record?

"At 12:29 local time, the HSASV Agincourt and its wolfpack picked up an emergency beacon transmitting the position of a Cerberus research team deployed to Akuze, a planet in the same system they were supposed to observe for pirate activity," which he was sure was everything but a coincidence. "In accordance to protocol, the commander of the ship diverted from his observation duties to investigate the signal but the moment his ship entered orbit around Akuze, the transmission was cut off. After the Cerberus team failed to respond to their hails, a platoon led by one Captain Francis Hackett," the portrait of a middle-aged marine officer appeared in the air next to the director,"made Planetfall at 13:49 local time, touching down approximately two kilometers south of the last known location of the beacon," Rei paused for another moment. "They then went dark the moment their shuttles touched down on the Agincourt."

Again, that was most certainly not a coincidence.

"I thought we fixed the issue with our comms. How are they still being jammed?" Shepard asked.

"They aren't being jammed, at least not by traditional means. They're just unresponsive."

"That's one way to say they're dead," the older specialist muttered.

"And under other circumstances, I would agree with you," Rei nodded. "But nothing suggests that they encountered hostile resistance or fell victim to natural hazards. They simply stopped responding from one moment to another."

"Just like the Cerberus team," Morneau injected.

"Exactly," the man nodded. "This was their last transmission," he added before the portrait vanished and was replaced by a voice line.

"Agincourt, we just reached the dig site, the whole place is a ghost town," a disembodied voice echoed through the dark briefing room. "We've sent out a couple of UAVs to start an expended search pattern, but they aren't picking up any signs of life either. Just prefabs and ruins. I think we might be too late, over."

"The Agincourt has been trying to hail them ever since but given the development of the operation, the captain has delayed the deployment of further ground troops until the situation becomes clearer."

"Which is where we come in," Shepard figured as Rei's hologram nodded. Every fiber of his being was telling Morneau that this was the most obvious trap he had ever seen but as things were, the actual evidence seemed to point against that. A whole platoon of marines didn't just go down quietly from one moment to another. They went out fighting "Permission to speak freely, Sir?" the senior specialist suddenly added.

"You don't need my permission to speak, Shepard."

"Sir, search and rescue is hardly a job for Section 13, what's really going on? Why not sent N7 or ASOC or even another Cerberus strike team? What's really going on here?"

A long and silent pause followed before Rei locked eyes with the older specialist.

"I know this is an unusual assignment but as things are this is a real search and rescue operation," the director explained before his tone grew darker and surprisingly enough worried, "and the reason why I'm sending you is because I'm afraid of what you might find down there."

"Sir, what was Cerberus doing on Akuze?" Shepard added and a few moments later two buzzing sounds originated from their omni-tools, informing them that they had received a data-transfer.

"Finding answers."

* * *

 _Codex: Salarian Armed Forces_

 _The military of the Salarian Union is often called the most advanced military in the galaxy. While its ground forces number at a fraction of those of the Turian Hierarchy and its navy is smaller than that of the Asari Republics, many military experts consider the salarian military, or more specifically STG (see Entry Salarian Special Task Group) to be the most dangerous force in the galaxy. Instead of facing their enemies head on like turian, krogan or batarian doctrine demands, salarian commanders take the human principle of 'Maneuver Warfare' to its absolute extreme, relying on a strong air force, their naturally quick reflexes making salarians some of the deadliest pilots in the galaxy, a mobile army, supported by an enormous number of drones and combat mechs, and an advanced navy to outmaneuver their opposition at every turn._

 _Divided between the forces of the Union, to which the entirety of the Salarian Navy, the STG and the Salarian Naval Infantry belong, and the forces loyal to their dalatrasses, which are entirely planet-based but far more numerous than their naval counterparts, the salarian military experienced the biggest reduction of manpower in galactic history after the formal end of the Rachni War (See Entry 'Rachni War'). Abandoning the respective laws that allowed the Union to draft and the dalatrasses to levy every male salarian into military service, the Salarian Armed Forces were turned from a massive, conscription-based military into a small, well-equipped professional force relying on bleeding edge technology to make up for lost numbers. While only marginally bigger than the HSA's armed forces (See Entry Series 'Human Systems Alliance'), the real strength of the Salarian Armed Forces lies not in their numbers but in their ability to gather intelligence, conduct detailed reconnaissance and act on targets of opportunity with unparalleled speed and precision._

 _While widely considered a sleeping giant due to the size of its population, economy and most importantly its ability to gather intelligence, it has to be noted that the divide between the forces serving the Union and the forces serving their dalatrasses has proven troublesome in the past. A lack of communication caused by both different chains of commands and clashing officers has resulted in the two different branches of services preferring to work separated from each other, only joining forces during irregular exercises or when worlds of the Union are under direct attack by hostile forces._

 _Furthermore it should be noted that the Salarian Armed Forces have been the biggest contributor to the Council's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch for over a millennia, one out of every three agents hailing from the ranks of STG._

* * *

 **A/N: Chapter 40 and, as planned, the beginning of the final, and if I'm honest longest planned (as in I knew how Akuze was gonna go down from the moment I decided to give each of Shepard's possible backgrounds and origins a character) background chapter. Paragade or neutral or whatever you wanna call it, it's happening.**

 **Now for the sake of those who can't make sense of Semper Vigilo's timetable compared to canon I'll spell it out, a** **t the end of this chapter we're just seven months away from the beginning of Mass Effect 1, meaning that one of the few 'bigger' issues I saw in Semper Vigilo up to now, its long timeframe, is now finally behind us.** **Now I said it before, Akuze was pushed back for the sake of narrative pacing (I think given the last portion of Morneau's scene a lot of you already know what exactly is gonna be different from canon and why I insisted on delaying it up to now)**

 **But on the offchance that some of you don't see what's gonna go down yet, this is where I'll shut up about his portion.**

 **Just gonna have to wait, be glad I already decided to give you hints instead of ending it on a "where are we going?" "Akuze" cliffhanger.**

 **Sooo yeah.**

 **Other than that I finally got to do one of the things I've been wanting to do for a long time... give the League of One its FIRST EVER apperance. For me they were always something really interesting about the first game and I was really sad that beyond a small sidequest we never got to hear about the 12 (or as implied in the game and confirmed in Semper Vigilo) 13 salarians who played an entire galaxy.** **I mean just think about it... 13 guys screw over the entire galaxy and no one ever mentions it again... it's too good NOT to appear in my version of things (which by now has turned from a simple albeit original AlternateFirstContact Story to my personal vision of how Mass Effect should've gone down)**

 **Adding to the League of One, I'd like to point out how much fun I had writing this as of yet unnamed teal salarian... I don't know why but I just did. I like silly things, alright?**

 **Also, we got to see Shepard's N7 graduation and my (and I hope your) favorite turian also got to make his return, meeting up with Liara (for who I hope I hit the same kind of tone I gave her in her other scenes. For some reason this time it was really hard to hit the whole 'scientist who gets too excited about certain things' tone)**

 **I don't know if I said that but after Akuze (Chapter 41), the rest of Season 2 (which I think will be chapters 42, 43 and 44) is gonna be all about Saren. Those chapters are gonna be about how HE is going to end up for the beginning Season 3 (Mass Effect 1) and I think you'll really enjoy it. Originally Saren, much like Redford, wasn't supposed to take on so much of a live on his own but up to now, as strange as its sounds given his absense for the better part of Season 2's second half, he's basically been THE protagonist of Semper Vigilo. At least half of the plot points ever since chapter 11, which marked the point where I decided that Semper Vigilo HAS to be more than just an AlternateFirstContact Story, have revolved around him and a lot of them will come to their cumulation in these three chapters (which I plan to make as big and good as I can)**

 **So get hyped for Akuze, which I think is gonna be great, and after it get hyped for three consecutive chapters of Saren and Anderson (Whom I haven't forgotten about, even though it might seem like it)**

 **For the record we're at 323 reviews, 551 favorites and 652 follows.**

 **For everyone who's been here since the beginning, get ready to see a lot of things pay off in the near future.**

 **For everyone just finding me now, I'm only just getting started.**

 **See you around next time.**


	41. Let Go

**Chapter 41. Let Go**

* * *

 **16:21 Local Time, 19. June 2414 AD, Bellerophon System, Akuze**

Single-mindedness and compartmentalisation.

That was what kept both his and Shepard's head in the game right now.

Every specialist prepared for a mission in their own way, centering themselves to ensure that they would focus only on one thing, getting the job done. Some trained, others planned, a few read. Personally he had never been part of the reading crowd, at least not until recently. Instead of following their usual rituals, Shepard and Morneau had spent every waking minute on their trip to Akuze with trying to make sense of twenty five years worth of intel. Alien artifacts, cybernetically enhanced thralls, manipulated people, a billion year old ship wreckage, the biggest misconception in galactic history, a dead civilization and an enigmatic figure pulling all their strings, all of it had kept them company for the duration of their trip. The more they had read about what the directors of Section 13 and Cerberus had kept secret from the rest of the HSA, the more sense it started to make, the clearer the picture became.

Said picture was without the shadow of a doubt among the most terrifying things Daniel 'Magic' Morneau had ever heard about in the nearly twenty nine years he had spent wandering the earth, or rather the galaxy, and only the fact that it all still seemed somewhat surreal kept it from claiming the well deserved first place on that list.

"One minute, you really sure about this?" one of the Kodiak's pilots asked as the shuttle began to close in on their drop zone, the sea of green below them turning into individual tree canopies as they got closer to the ground. In a way the place reminded him of Terra Nova, both appeared very earth-like when viewed from the right distance but up close they just didn't measure up to the real deal. It was easy for humans who had never actually been on Earth, a group growing in numbers with passing every year and every new colony, to overlook the small differences but for him it had always been obvious. Whether it was the smell of the air, the colour of the sky, the temperature during day or the stars seen only outside of the megacity he had grown up in, every 'new Earth' he had set foot on hadn't managed to live up to the original. He would've pitied those who never experienced it for missing out on things like that if he didn't know about the darker side of his home from first hand experience. Between social issues like overcrowded cities, organized crime, poverty and the bureaucratic empire necessary to effectively govern eleven billion people, the twelve years he had spent on the planet hadn't been the best of his life. By the time he had exchanged foster care for Grissom Academy, he had seen about enough of 'the cradle of human civilization'.

"Yes, put us down as close to their last known location as you can," Alec Shepard, the senior specialist who had requested Morneau as a replacement for his actual partner, Grant Redford, who also happened to be Morneau's former supervisor, nodded while climbing to his feet. It was a bold move but they both had agreed that it was the best course of action, speed could give them an advantage the marines hadn't had. Walking towards the site of the emergency beacon hadn't helped the platoon they were looking for and as far as the Ain Jalut had been able to tell, the area was save to approach.

Which in itself was making him even more weary.

There were no signs of Captain Hackett's platoon or the Cerberus team the marines had been looking for before dropping of the radar. The only things they knew to be down there were abandoned prefabs, unused vehicles and a bigger structure of unknown origin east of the camp which was made of something the stealth frigate's scanners hadn't be able to penetrate. He knew that Cerberus had been looking for prothean ruins but the revelation that there was a large alien construct on Akuze's surface had still been surprising. The director's files had mentioned a lot of things but the complex located in between a square of black obelisks, which unlike the thing they surrounded looked distinctively prothean, hadn't been one of them.

Which again made him even more weary.

There was no reason for Rei to keep that particular detail a secret from them considering everything else he had given to them. If he hadn't mentioned it, he hadn't known about it and if he hadn't known about it, chances were that it was responsible for nearly a hundred and eighty people, marines and Cerberus operatives alike, going dark form one moment to the next without leaving even the smallest hint as to what had happened. There were situations which caused ground commanders to order complete radio silence but they were usually predated by some kind of hostile encounter, for example a small reconnaissance unit running into a much larger combat patrol. But even in these cases, whoever was in charge of the unit would give the chain of command some sort of indication as to what was going on before laying low. Since the platoon had simply stopped responding, the possibility of this blackout being intentional on their part was miniscule but since they were also positive that this wasn't the work of traditional jammers, to which HSA channels had previously been susceptible to, the possibility of anyone actively blocking their signals also seemed unlikely and natural interference had also been ruled out. As far as they could tell, the most logical answer to the situation they were in was that the marines had fallen victim to something that was capable of wiping out a combat-hardened infantry platoon faster than any of its members could explain what was going on.

And as if that alone wasn't bad enough, the same thing that had wiped the platoon out had also used Cerberus' emergency beacon to lure them to Akuze in the first place.

"Coming up on the landing zone," the pilot called as the roof of a white prefab building came into view, causing him to rise to his feet and take his position next to Shepard, who in turn opened the door of the shuttle. "Get ready to drop."

"You think it counts as exceptionally stupid if we know that it's a trap but do it anyway?" the younger specialist chuckled while the shuttle descended towards the prefab, turning to look at the other specialist who much like him was clad in the dark-grey armor HSAIS issued to Section 13.

"Only if it doesn't work," the man shrugged, jumping out of the Kodiak before it had completely centered itself over the building not a moment later. This had to be what working with him was like for Yo-yo, usually he'd be the one who'd do something like that.

"Well, here goes nothing," Morneau said to himself and took a step forward, following the older specialist through the door and landing next to him just as the shuttle took off, rolling to break his fall. "So, what's our play here?" he asked as the two scanned their surroundings, SR-8s at the ready. With little to no intel, they didn't exactly have a detailed plan to work with, so from here on out, they'd have to improvise. The first thing he noticed was the eery silence that had settled now that the Kodiak was gone. No people, no machines, not even local wildlife. Nothing besides Shepard's and his own feet hitting the roof below them with each step made any sort of noise.

"Search the camp and if it doesn't pan out,"the general lack of a reaction to their arrival made that a very likely scenario,"search the ruins," Shepard replied as they made their way towards one of the entry hatches built into the prefab. Normally used to connect several of the living units together to form larger complexes like barracks or administrative centers, they could also serve as a makeshift entrance as long as you knew how to open them manually.

"Ain Jalut, we've reached the target and we'll start searching the premise right now, how copy?" the senior specialist spoke into his radio while Morneau walked over to the edge of the roof, his attention drawn to something else entirely. "Ain Jalut, come in," Shepard repeated before sighing in frustration. Were their comms already down? It certainly seemed like it. If that was the case, they'd have to make sure to be on time, their extraction would arrive in exactly three hours, if they weren't around then, they'd probably be stuck on Akuze until they figured out what was jamming them.

Strangely enough, the prospect of being stranded on a mostly uncharted world that had already claimed a Cerberus field team and a marine platoon wasn't his main concern right about now.

"What the hell is that thing?" he muttered as he tried to make sense of the partially overgrown, greyish structure located a couple of hundred meters away from their current position. He wasn't an expert but what he was currently looking at through the scope of his rifle didn't exactly match the examples of prothean architecture he had seen up to now. The precursor race had left behind skyscrapers, pyramids and underground archives, all sharing a common design, on various planets throughout the galaxy, giving the current denizens of the Milky Way a solid idea as to what their cities and buildings had looked like. None of them came even close to resembling the mixture of arches, pathways and what appeared to be statues he was currently observing. This had to be the thing their scanners hadn't been able to make sense of and for some reason, it hadn't looked nearly this big from orbit. Located within a small valley, a grey tower covered in vines climbed upwards from the center of the structure, reaching the same height as the prothean obelisks surrounding it and dwarfing the several human vehicles and tents set up next to it. As he shifted his aim and kept an eye out for movement within the smaller encampment, he wondered why Cerberus hadn't told Harper and by extension Rei about the bigger ruin. An unknown alien structure seemed like the kind of thing you should mention to your superiors.

"Whatever it is, it's bad news," Shepard figured before the sound of the hatch coming loose caused Morneau to turn away from the alien ruin and take a peak into the distinctively less impressive human prefab. "After you, Magic," the older specialist offered with a wave of his hand. Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, Morneau lowered himself through the entrance, quickly looking around the empty room he had just entered before giving the all clear.

"Light's on, computer's on, hell I think they even have air conditioning running," he summarized as he started to look around just as Shepard joined him, the low but audible humming of a ventilator cooling the room to make up for the tropical climate outside replacing the previous lack of sound. "I guess conserving power wasn't their main concern."

"Seems like they didn't plan to leave," the other man offered while walking off to the opposite part of the room before trying to access one of the still running computer terminals. "Cerberus follows HSAIS protocols, they shouldn't have left anything behind. Their team might've been mostly scientific but I don't see them leaving any of this here."

"Yeah, Cerberus isn't sloppy," he nodded on his way to the door of the room, a spatter on one of the walls causing him to stop dead in his tracks. "I've got blood," he let Shepard know before taking a closer look at the first signs of what might have happened here. Alongside the dried patch of red he could make out a sizeable, dent in the interior wall of the prefab unit, which much like the rest of the structure was made of an alloy strong enough to survive in some of the harsher parts of human space. Whoever had made this dent had been very angry and whoever that blood belonged to was likely very dead by now.

"Doesn't look like there was much of a fight though," Shepard countered from the other portion of the prefab, "looks like they just up and left, really."

"Maybe an ambush?" he suggested before stepping towards the door, intending to investigate the rest of what looked like it had been the operation's headquarters. "Died before they could put up a fight?"

"Could be that, could also be a whole other load of things," the other specialist nodded to indicate his readiness, causing both of them to sweep into the adjacent hallway, "on second thought, it probably was exactly that though," the man added in a neutral tone, unphased by what the now opened doors had revealed to them.

"Well, that explains," Morneau paused as he looked at the five corpses lying at their feet, bullet wounds riddling their bodies, "something, I guess."

"What happened here?" Shepard wondered as they climbed over the corpses and moved through the blood covered hallway, passing by familiar shell casings that betrayed the fact that it had been human weapons that had killed these people. Between the smaller pistol calibers probably belonging to the strangely absent weapons of the Cerberus scientists, spent rounds of a far bigger and very familiar weapon had also been spread across the hallway. "It looks like infighting but why would they turn on each other?"

Due to the nature of their assignments, a special security clearance had to be awarded to every last operative Cerberus intended to recruit, ensuring that only the most trustworthy candidates were approved to join the black-op. As such the chances of a mole or some sort of IFS double agent sneaking into their ranks to sabotage their operations or learn their secrets was slim to none. It hadn't happened before and unless they relaxed their standards, it wouldn't happen any time soon either. Cerberus was basically impossible to infiltrate. Yet in spite of all these precautions, all the procedures they went through to prevent being betrayed from within, the scene Shepard and Morneau were currently walking through indicated that exactly that had occurred here.

"These guys ran away," Morneau figured while stepping over two of the dead, the fact that their backs were covered in several small entry wounds tipping him off and causing him to stop, "but these guys ran towards whatever the others were running away from?" he asked, inspecting the other three corpses who seemed to have died the exact opposite way than their comrades. Had they tried to fight off the attackers? It certainly was a possible scenario, but it still didn't explain who had killed them. There were a lot of questions he currently had no answers to, so the best thing he and Shepard could do right now was to keep looking. When he was about to keep advancing in pursuit of that goal, he caught something else. "Shepard, is that what I think it is?" he asked, spinning back the way he had come from and planting his feet next to the dried impression of a human foot covered in standard issue HSA armor.

"No real foot prints that way," the other man added, pointing the way they had come from before stepping past Morneau, preparing to open the door towards the other section of the prefab. "So either whoever shot them didn't feel to check if the other room was empty," he began while turning his head towards Morneau.

"Or the other two scientists died earlier than them," he finished the thought while picking up one of the SR-8 bullet casings and glancing back to the two deceased operatives who Shepard had been referring to. Why had they been shot with a different gun? There weren't enough shells here to suggest that the shooter had ran out of ammunition. A lot about this situation didn't make sense. Had the assailant killed the first two, gone out of his way to arm himself with a different gun and come back to finish the job? If the blood had been dry enough for him to walk through without leaving a trail, it had to have taken him at least couple of hours to do all of that. That just didn't seem like a feasible timeline to the specialist. "All set?" he asked before opening the next door, turning to cover the small stairway that led to the level below them the moment the doors opened up.

"All set," Shepard confirmed as he jumped through the door in front of him, lowering his weapon as soon as it became clear that much like the first one, it was empty. "Clear," he called from within the room, causing Morneau to step inside as well, taking care to keep an eye on the stairway. "Might just be our lucky day after all," a quick look behind him let Morneau know what the other specialist was talking about. It seemed that they had walked into some kind of surveillance room, probably used to monitor the camp's perimeter for suspicious activity. "Here's to hoping they didn't actually follow protocol on this one," Shepard added before getting to work on the computer terminal lodged between a dozen or so screens of rapidly changing security footage, some cameras showing empty rooms, others simply static. It wasn't much but it was as close to jackpot as they'd get.

"Anything?" he asked after nearly a minute had passed. At least one of the cameras should've captured something, simple probability dicated that much.

"Well, there's a lot of corrupted data."

"Sabotage or unintended damage?" he inquired, still remaining focused on the stairway.

"Could be either one really," a pause. "Alright, looks like the camp's proximity alert logged thirty five hits two days ago, time and approach matches the arrival of Captain Hackett's platoon. So we know that at least something was still working back then."

"And?" he asked when Shepard didn't go on.

"And that's it," the man sighed.

"What do you mean that's it?"

"Exactly what I said, Magic. That's it," the man turned to look behind himself, seeing Shepard stare at the terminal. "There's nothing else in the system. No alerts, no reports, no indication that anything went wrong," another pause followed before the specialist's tone shifted,"except for the cameras."

"What about them?"

"They've been on a loop for days. The last time they actually recorded something was two weeks ago."

"Someone made sure that their plan wasn't caught on tape," the specialist muttered,"this entire thing is getting better by the minute."

"You can say that again," Shepard replied. "I mean we're talking about messing with the entire CCTV system without anyone noticing. Unless they were sleeping on the clock," the man added as he tapped Morneau on his shoulder, letting him know that he was ready to keep moving,"someone should've noticed that something was off."

"Not if the right people were watching the feeds," Morneau countered as they began moving down the stairs, the clock until their extraction would check in on them running at the edge of his HUD, just barely inside his line of vision.

"You think the security officer was in on it?"

"No, I'm saying that half the camp was in on it. A small inside job doesn't wipe out a whole marine platoon before they can call for back up, a couple dozen motivated geniuses with the right kind of gear might just do the job."

"If that's true, then where the hell are the traitors? One guy leaving unnoticed is possible but a couple dozen? No way they could've made it off Akuze without the Agincourt and her wolfpack noticing."

"Well, we only searched one prefab, so they could still be hiding in the others," Morneau figured as they began clearing the next room, the body of a man wearing Cerberus fatigues leaned against the wall, a pistol in his hand and a hole in his skull. "But since they didn't blow us out of the sky, I'd guess that they ditched the camp."

"For the ruins?"

"Where else would they go? The jungle's not exactly the most hospitable place."

"Good point."

"I've got my moments," he shrugged upon clearing the last room of this particular prefab.

"That's a weapons rack," Shepard said as he walked over to the cabinet attached to the wall next to the building's exit. "Locked," he figured before throwing Morneau a look who upon realising the man's intention was engulfed by a purple light. Focusing the biotic energy in his hand, a ball of rapidly shifting mass effect fields tore apart the hinges of the small compartment, causing its metal cover to fall to the ground.

"Well we know that our mole didn't get his rifle from here," the younger specialist said as the purple light dispersed itself, his gaze focused on the completely filled weapons rack.

"He had to get it from somewhere," Shepard countered.

"Plenty of prefabs left," he offered in turn as they crossed the piece of open space between the larger, several story tall construct and the closest, much smaller living unit. "Maybe we should just drop an orbital strike on top of the ruin and call it a day," he added as they opened the next door, the superficial damage to its exterior being just another question he had no answers for at the moment.

"Scared of a bunch of Cerberus geeks?" the man chuckled as they walked through yet another hallway, this one mercifully empty of corpses and questions. He knew that Shepard was joking for the sake of easing the tension both of them were feeling but sadly it wasn't working. The prospect of one mole was bad enough, the idea of a majority of the camp's personal going rogue and coming up with a twisted way to make sure their treason remained undiscovered was worse. If it hadn't been for his bedtime literature these last few days, he might even have called it terrifying.

"Worried what they might come up with to keep us off their backs," he corrected. Their orders were to find survivors but if those survivors turned out to be hostile, this would turn into a search and destroy kind of mission sooner than later.

"Looks like a bomb exploded in here," Shepard stated as they entered the first of the two rooms belonging to this prefab, which by the looks of it had served as some sort of lab.

"Shit, guess we know what happened to some of the marines," Morneau added as the full scope of the massacre that had taken place within the room became evident. If his count was accurate at least twelve bodies were scattered over the laboratory, four of which were clad in the distinctive grey and black body armor issued to the HSA's marines, while the remainder of them once more belonged to Cerberus. The corpses alone weren't enough to support the idea that they had fought each other but the standard issue combat knife embedded in the throat of a Cerberus operatives slumped over the body of a marine gave a lot of weight to it. Judging by the state of both the room and the corpses, the fight had been swift but brutal. Every last one of the Cerberus operatives had been gunned down in one way or another but given the fact that the deceased marines, one of whom had taken a blow strong enough to actually dent his helmet, hadn't been recovered by their comrades, something told him that it had been the scientists who had won this fight. Kneeling down next to one of the marines and allowing his omni-tool to interface with the suit's internal computer, Morneau aimed to figure out just when the vitals of the soldiers had ended.

"He's been dead for nearly two days," he told Shepard as the other specialist once more tried his luck on one of the computer terminals, moving the deceased marine, the bullet wound at the back of his suggesting that his death had started this fight, slumped over the desk , both respect for the dead and the fear of booby traps causing him to be careful with the body.

"So what happened here?" Shepard asked as he began typing. "Part of their team goes rogue, murders the ones who don't wanna join them, one of the loyal ones manages to get the distress beacon on and when the marines show up they kill them? Why not just report it as a false alert?"

"Beats me," Morneau shrugged while inspecting one of the Cerberus operatives, trying to make sense of what had actually killed her. On the one hand the SR-8 bullet embedded just below her heart should've done the job but for some reason one of the marines, probably the one resting against the wall closest to the other body, had gone out of his way to break the woman's neck.

Why?

One would've been sufficient.

Before he could take a closer look at the body of the scientist, trying to determine if there was a way she could've survived what should've been a fatal injury, he heard the Section 13 agent who had accompanied him to this increasingly stranger mission call for him.

"I've got something, come take a look at this," the man spoke, taking a step to the side to reveal an audio file on the screen of the terminal. With the press of a button, a frightened voice no louder than a whisper filled the room.

"We were wrong, god we were wrong, so so wrong," the disembodied scientist explained, the sound of someone banging on the door causing Morneau to believe that this particular operative was now among the deceased. "It- it's not the direct physical contact or the implants that make you do it," he explained while the banging grew louder. His choice of words made the specialists mind reach for the compartment he had buried his newly acquired knowledge in. Was he talking about the Object Omnicrons Rei's files had mentioned? If that was the case, they were in for a load of trouble. "It's the artifact itself. It emits some kind of impulse. I don't know wha- what it is exactly but it's somehow related to infr-" a particular loud bang drowned out whatever the scientist was about to say," ltra- sonic noise. We took all the precautions the director suggested but we didn't account for sound," another loud bang, "if we had kno-" the man stuttered before getting a hold of himself. "If anyone finds this, don't make the same mistake we made. There is no save way to study Object Theta and while I can't be certain that the Omnicrons work in a similar fashion, we need to assume that they do. I don't know how many days it takes for them to get into your head but I'm afraid it's too late for me, I've been down there a dozen times and the voices are already calling for me. That's how you know it got you, the voi-" the sound of the door being opened in the background caused his voice to crack. "Destroy it, just des-" A gunshot interrupted the scientist.

"Clean this mess up," a voice instructed as several sets of footsteps became audible through the terminal's speakers.

"What should we do with the body?"

"Take him to the others, he might've died for the wrong cause but that doesn't mean we can't make use of him. He'll make a fine thrall."

Were they not aware that the recording was still running? No, that wasn't it. the scientist had to have done something to hide the recording, otherwise his murderers would've deleted it.

"Sir, he managed to set of the emergency beacon."

"Shit, alright, let me think," the first voice replied. "Keep it on. If we turn it off, they'll show up either way just to make sure. We'll deal with the marines when they land."

"Sir?"

"They've got no idea how many of us should be here, if we're lucky they won't know what's going on and leave without giving us any trouble."

"The rest is just ambient noise," Shepard said as he hit the stop button before slapping a small data-drive into the terminal and downloading its entire content. "The director has to know what happened here. Let's try the Ain Jalut again, if we're lucky we'll get a signal through."

"Wait, you want to make a run for it? What about the marines?" the younger specialist countered as his hand hovered over the radio. "They're still out there."

"The marines just became our secondary objective. We have to get this offworld," the older one argued as he stepped back from the terminal, intending to make his way to the door. "Besides, look around yourself, Magic. They split the platoon up and ambushed it in smaller groups. They're all dead."

"We don't know that," Morneau protested, grabbing a hold of Shepard's arm in the process.

For a moment the two grey-armored figures simply stared at each other through their darkened visors, their conversation inaudible to the outside. Before he had taken Redford's offer, he had been told that he'd have to cross lines for the sake of the greater good, do things no sane person would be proud off and sure enough, ever since he had entered field work, he had done a lot of questionable things. Assassinations, espionage and undercover work were all part of their job. Daniel Morneau had killed, manipulated and betrayed a number of people over the course of his intelligence service career for the sake of the greater good, only the advise that had been given to him back on Terra Nova, to make sure that he was on the right side of things when the chips were down, allowing him to still consider himself a good man. Potentially leaving behind thirty one marines didn't seem like the kind of thing a good man would do.

"We don't know that they're dead," he repeated.

"But we have to work under the assumption that they are," his companion insisted before freeing himself from the hold. "I like the idea of leaving them behind just as much as you do but this," he held up two identical data-drives, stuffing one of them into a pouch attached to Morneau's chest rig and grabbing a tight hold of him in the process,"is more important than any of us," Shepard added before letting go of Morneau and stepping out of the prefab. "Ain Jalut, please come in," he spoke after they began heading for the next prefab, creeping along the edge of the prefab base in the process. When his request remained unanswered, Shepard sighed. "Alright, guess we'll have to wai-"

"You really think they're gonna let your shuttle land?" a third voice caused both the specialists to freeze, turning their rifles towards the jungle it had come from. "Easy now," a man clad in marine corps armor spoke, most likely addressing the several soldiers hidden behind him and not the two specialists. However in spite of his calming words, the marines' weapons remained centered on him and Shepard. Considering the rank insignia attached to the collar of his armor, the figure in charge was most likely the missing Captain Francis Hackett, "What the hell is Section 13 doing here?" the marine officer added before finally placing his hands on the barrel of one of the guns, causing its owner to lower it.

"Looking for you, Captain Hackett," Shepard explained as they too lowered their guns. So much for secondary objective. No, that wasn't a fair line of thought, the man didn't deserve that. Just because Shepard had realised that the intel was more important than looking for potentially dead people, didn't mean that he was a hypocrite.

"Didn't think I was this important," Hackett spoke dryly, the slight limp and dried blood on his leg betraying that he had recently been injured. "Now that we realised we're on the same side," the man added, somewhat annoyed by the fact that one of his soldiers still aimed their weapon at them, "would you mind telling me why Cerberus tried to kill my unit?"

"I'm afraid that's classified," Morneau could already tell that the captain wouldn't like that particular answer.

"Of course it is," the man chuckled while a squad of marines, some of them injured, emerged from the jungle behind him. "Well, classified or not, you're just as stranded as we are. Unless you take down their jammer, they'll just blow your shuttle from the sky and hunt you down."

"Jammer?" he asked. "We didn't pick up any jamming signals."

"Because it's not one we're familiar with," Hackett explained while pointing towards the grey alien facility that had already caught Morneau's attention before. "It's something they dug up, causes a complete blackout. Nothing goes in, nothing comes out. No idea how it works but it definitely works," the officer said while tapping his radio. "Thing's been dead ever since they turned it on."

"What's jamming us might be the same thing responsible for compromising Cerberus," the younger specialist realised as he once more looked at the structure.

"Probably," Shepard nodded. "What happened here, Captain Hackett?"

"To be honest, I was hoping you'd fill in the blanks. Walk with me," the marine countered before once more heading into the jungle. After a moment of consideration, the specialists followed. "We were searching the camp when a bunch of scientists show up from the dig site, smile and tell me everything's fine,Then I turn my back on them for one moment and next thing I know one of them wants to kill me with a blow torch," he explained with an uneasy tone on their way through the thick vegetation surrounding the prefab base, a series of tents coming into view a few moments later. "and when I finally put him down, his robo-buddy jumps out of the ceiling and jams a steel bar in my leg. Then, while I'm trying not to bleed out, I start getting casualty reports from all my squad leaders."

"Robo-buddy?" Shepard inquired as they entered the camp under the suspicious glare of a sniper who only eased up when his superior waved his hand at him.

"See for yourself," Hackett shrugged, guiding them into one of the tents and taking off his helmet once they were inside. Kneeling down on the thin floor mat placed over the dirty soil below, the captain threw another look at the specialists, this one filled with a mixture of confusion and genuine fear. "I'm warning you though, I've seen a lot of shit in my time but," the man paused as he grabbed a hold of the black tarp lying on the ground in front of him, his steel blue eyes emptily gazing into the distance, "nothing like this."

"Show us," Shepard reassured him and after a brief pause, Hackett pulled the tarp away.

There, lying on another piece of tarp soaked in some kind of blue fluid, was a figure that only resembled a human in the most basic of features. If he hadn't already seen pictures of IFS personal, Terminus pirates or misguided turian military officers that had undergone the same kind of transformation, Daniel Morneau would've been at a loss to describe what he was looking at. It was a grotesque fusion of metal and flesh, a human full of cybernetics that should've killed him a long time ago. Between the artificial eyes, the few spots of missing hair, the fine blue lines running below the surface of his greyish-blue skin, the circular implant in his abdomen and the tubes connecting various parts of his body, which had been reduced to a muscled skeleton, the Cerberus scientist was quite literally the stuff nightmares were made off. Whatever this man had been in life was long gone, he had been turned into a husk of his former self, an empty shell molded into something that defied nature itself. Everything about him was wrong and he'd be lying if he said that it didn't terrify him.

'Put it in a box and don't let it rule you,' the disembodied voice of Specialist Grant Redford echoed in the back of his mind.

He inhaled exactly once and did just that.

"You know what this is, don't you?" Hackett muttered after their reaction, or rather lack thereof tipped him off. "Jesus Christ, of course you know what it is, you're Section 13."

"Yes, we do," Shepard finally spoke, turning to Hackett in the process. "How many of them are left?"

"Marines or enemies?"

"Both."

"I've got sixteen guys but not even half of them are in any shape to fight. They got us good," the man sighed. "As for hostiles, damned if I know. We killed a lot of these bastards but at least a dozen or so are still stalking the dig site. I don't know what they're doing but they've been hauling bodies inside ever since we escaped them."

"Understood. We'll need your platoon, Captain."

"What for?" Morneau had a suspicion for what they'd need the marines.

"You said it yourself, they probably won't let our shuttle land and unless we destroy their jamming tech, we'll be stuck," there it was. "I need you to assist us in assaulting the ruins, take out what's causing this blackout and kill every last one of these traitors in the process."

"You did catch the part where I said that not even half of them are good to fight, right?"

"Do you want to end up like this, Captain?" Shepard countered as he pointed at the corpse. "Because the way I see it, we probably will unless we get the hell of this rock."

He didn't have to do any of this. As Section 13 specialists, both he and Shepard could draft HSA military assets to assist them in completing their missions without any questions asked. The authority to do so, which had been granted to them during the Fringe Wars, still existed. Noé, who had given it to them, had no reason to revoke it and Goyle, in spite of disagreeing with some of her predecessors actions, had never even considered doing it either because no matter how much power it gave to Section 13, it got results. Chancellors of the HSA liked things that produced results, that was their one common denominator. But even though he didn't have to do it, Morneau knew why he was doing it. It was one thing to order someone to fight for you, it was a whole other thing to make them want to fight for you. The difference between why they'd accompany him and Shepard could mean the difference between success and defeat.

"You're right, we know what happened here," Shepard admitted, continuing his speech and breaking all kinds of protocols in the process. "And unless you we get the hell of this rock," he went on, making his way towards the exit of the tent, "it's gonna happen to the rest of the galaxy. So, can we count on you?"

A moment passed as the marine captain looked at his own reflection on Shepard's visor.

"Is that a serious question?" Captain Hackett finally said, folding his arms. "You bet your fancy classification that you can count on the corps."

"That's what I wanted to hear," Shepard nodded. "Get your men ready, we have to move quickly. The more time we give them to prepare, the harder this will get."

"Alright marines, time for some payback," Hackett called through the camp.

This was definitely better than simply telling them to go and shoot things. He had to give it to Shepard, the man could motivate people. After the marines had rallied to their commander, even those whom Hackett had described as 'in no shape to fight' joining their mission, the group of soldiers and spies quickly left the smaller jungle camp behind them, beginning their journey down the valley and towards the alien ruin. All things considered, they made good time, taking only twenty minutes to get close to the alien structure and arriving just as the sun began to set behind them, slowly vanishing with every step they took closer to the grey tower now resting in the shadow of one of the prothean obelisks. From up close the mazes and arches began to make more sense to Morneau, they weren't as random as they had appeared to be, instead of pointless obstructions they were balconies and walkways acting as pathways around the central tower, connecting various rooms and chambers surrounding it. But even though their purpose was now evident, one question about the ruin still remained unanswered.

What was it with these statues?

Without exceptions every last one of the visible figures displayed a slender humanoid being, its face covered by tentacles and its elongated hands tied to the armrests of the chair it was sitting on. Was it the image of the race that had built the tower or was it something else entirely? He couldn't shake the thought that they somewhat resembled the compromised Cebrerus operatives, although that notion was probably caused by the tentacles looking not all that different from the tubes he had seen on the corpse.

"Magic, you ready to live up to your name?" Shepard asked as the group slowed down at the edge of the piece of jungle they had used as cover while approaching the camp.

"You want me on point?"

"Depends, how good are your barriers?"

"Not good as my offense," he admitted, "but they'll hold long enough for you to make a break for cover."

"I once worked with turian cabals who could project their barriers on my squad, think you can do the same thing?" Hackett injected. "Would keep you from getting shot right away."

"Maybe for one of you," Morneau considered the thought before deciding that it wasn't the best course of action. Shielding one of them would do no good, making sure that they couldn't be shot at in the first place was a far better course of action. "but me stopping the initial salvo with a barrier is gonna be a lot more efficient. Don't worry about me, Captain."

"Just trying to keep you from getting shot, Specialist," the man shrugged. "I'm not seeing any guards. Either they think we're still in the camp or they want us to walk right in," the officer finally spoke as Morneau himself observed the camp through the scope of his rifle. Built just in front of the entry to the alien structure, it looked just as deserted as the prefab base but if what Hackett had told them, that meant just about nothing.

"Because doing what our enemy wants is such a splendid idea," another one of the marines offered. "Just great."

"Now's not the time for second thoughts, Gerrad," Captain Hackett offered. "We'll go in fast and hard, check the tents on your way to the entrance and stay close to this guy," he nodded towards Morneau himself. "Once we make it past the killzone, it's search and destroy. Find what's jamming us, take it out, shoot everyone that gets in your way and go home. Sounds good?" he turned to Shepard.

"Best plan we'll be able to come up with," the man shrugged before readying his rifle and placing a hand on Morneau's shoulder. "Ready?"

"Let's do this," a familiar feeling rushed through his body as biotic energy began to manifest itself around him, extending and fortifying the protective barrier already engulfing him.

"Go," Shepard nodded before the mixed force sprang into action.

Leaving the concealment of the jungle and swiftly advancing towards the camp across the open field, the marines and Shepard close on his trail, his eyes darted between the tents and the higher levels of tower. Why weren't they being shot at? Even from down here he could see several ideal positions from which they could be pinned down. The majority of their opponents might have been scientists but they had to have some basic understanding of taking advantage of their position. The only reason for them to put up no resistance was that the marines and the specialists were playing right into their hand.

It said a lot of things about this day that not getting shot at was the thing putting him off.

They kept pushing towards the entrance to clear the open space currently putting all of them in danger and when they reached the camp several of the captain's comrades broke formation and swept through the improvised shelters placed in front of the ruin while the rest of them followed Morneau's lead, his reinforced barrier still untouched. Currently no one was shooting at them but he still knew better than to drop it now within the completely exposed entry path.

"Maybe they ran?" a marine wondered as they left the narrow tunnel behind them and stepped into a much more open courtyard, last rays of sunlight shining through the gaps in the ceiling above them, giving the entire setting a dark-orange tint. Walking towards a thin, damaged bridge that seemed to connect the entrance to the rest of the ruin, Morneau couldn't help but stare at the deep drop below them. The maze of walkways and arches continued deep below the ground, far deeper than the size of the structure indicated. How big was this thing? Or more accurately, how deep?

"Can't blame them, this place gives me the creeps," another said as they passed over the bridge and saw another one of the statues which looked even stranger from up close.

"Watch your step, thing looks like it's about to fall apart," a third marine added after the sound of a piece of the bridge breaking off and hitting one of the walkways below them echoed through the ruin.

"I swear to god, Gerrad, if I die because you broke the damn bridg-"

"Zip it and listen for activity," Hackett's voice silenced both of them as Morneau finally decided to once more reduce his barriers. They were too spread out now, it didn't make sense for him to exhaust himself by maintaining it. He might have been human, which gave him a certain edge over turians and batarians in regards to how long it took for biotic activity to take its toll on him, but just like every non-asari, he too felt the effects of prolonged action. Their bodies simply weren't adapted to the powers they had and while human endurance went a long way to make up for that lack of adaptation, he too would drop once he reached a certain point. That was the downside of his abilities, if he overused them, his body would suffer the consequences. As the purple glow disappeared, the group began making its way to the center of the structure, figuring that the tower was the most likely source of the signal that kept them from reaching their ships in orbit.

"Hold up, do you hear that?" one finally spoke up after they had moved deeper into the structure, passing even more of the statues in the process. It seemed that the builders of this facility had taken a particular liking to whoever it was that they displayed over and over again. Morneau focused, trying to pick up what the marine was referring to. At first it was faint, a metallic echo coming from somewhere in the distance but once he got a hold of the sound it grew clearer.

"Sounds like it's coming from below us," he said after finally managing to locate the sound.

"There it is again," Hackett added when the noise repeated itself. "Think it's the jammer?"

"Only one way to find out," Shepard reasoned before making his way to the stairway the sound was coming from, carefully beginning his descend one foot at a time and causing the rest of the human force to follow him, their night vision gear kicking in once the light became too sparse. While it could've been a dozen other things, the sound was the only sign of activity within the entire ruin. Even if it could be a trap, heading towards it was the best chance they had at finding the jammer and getting off the world in one piece. Unless the magically stumbled upon the solution for all their problems, they'd have to take the risk.

"Jesus, what the hell is that?" another soldier whispered behind Morneau as the metallic sound once more reached them on the stairway itself. He couldn't blame the marine for being unnerved, considering what the unit had gone through in the last days, it was a surprise that they were holding things together as well as they did. Some of them where shaking and others only moved because the rest of their unit was doing the same thing, but they did their job nonetheless. He respected that. Professional soldiers or not, overcoming the kind of terror at least half of the marines were feeling right now was admirable in itself.

"Keep it together, Pelagia," Captain Hackett replied mere moments before an unearthly scream rang through the stairway. "We'll get through this," he ensured his men.

"I've got activity," his fellow specialist suddenly injected before stopping the marine officer." Stay low and stay ten seconds behind us."

"Copy that."

"Magic, on me."

That was his cue.

Leaving the last step of the surprisingly long stairway behind him, he silently followed Shepard's every step right until the specialist pressed himself against a wall beyond which a bluish light shone, its glow reaching far into the tall ceiling of the ruin's subterran level. Unable to risk a peak himself, he had to rely on the few shadows he could make out. Between human silhouettes, some carrying guns and others unarmed, he could see long, sharp spikes with what appeared to be human figures impaled on them. Tracking a pair of two shades carrying a third, limp shadow, he watched them drop the presumably lifeless body onto a small bump in the floor. A moment passed and he began to connect the pieces is his head. Then, just as he figured it out, his eyes widened underneath his helmet. Shooting from the small bump, another long spike went straight through the corpse, carrying it high into the air and producing the same metallic sound that had led them here in the first place.

Put it in a box and don't let it rule you.

"They did not see the truth," a voice spoke as footsteps echoed through the chamber. "But there is still hope for all of you. Embrace the gifts the artifact bestowed on us, be part of its purpose, be part of something bigger than all of us."

"Listen to yourself, Doctor, this isn't you," another pleaded fearfully.

"Why can't you see it? It's been right in front of us this entire time. For your own sake, open your eyes," the first responded while two shades made a move for one of the four kneeling figures," and see!" it called right before whoever they were trying to grab decided to fight back

"Get your hands of me you god damn traitors son of a-," the figure began, connecting exactly one punch before a gunshot caused Morneau to tense up ever so slightly, only his training keeping him from jumping around the corner and putting an end to this horror show.

"You will all serve his plan, dead or alive. It matters not to the Harbinger," the voice instructed before Shepard took a peak around the corner and made a move for the next piece of cover.

"Hackett, move up, get your men in position," the specialist whispered before Morneau repeated his move, catching a glimpse of the blue light's source, a spiral artifact placed in the center of the chamber, a dozen or so black cords which radiated the same kind of light running towards it from various parts of the room. Standing around the spiral, which seemed to be made of the same purple alloy he had seen in the reports Director Rei had sent them, he could see humans in various states reaching from completely normal to fully 'transformed', their attention completely focused on the artifact. Reaching the next piece of cover just as the three remaining survivors started to convulse upon being forced to touch the artifact, Morneau again forced himself not to act. As far as he could tell, they were beyond saving now anyway.

"I guess that's Object Theta," he figured upon coming to a stop next to the other specialist

"Most likely." Shepard muttered. "You got any heavy ordnance, Hackett?"

"A couple of grenades and two missiles," the marine replied.

"I want that place covered with frags," the other specialist said before handing him a grenade. "Follow my lead and fire the missiles on my mark."

"Copy that," a few moments passed during which Morneau could've sworn he heard an unnatural growl somewhere close to them. But before he could give the sound any more attention, he saw Shepard rise from his cover. He mirrored the movement and let go of the disk-shaped grenade just a second after him. Alerted by the sound of something landing next to their feet, the rogue operatives didn't even get the chance to go for cover before the grenades of the specialists and the marines, who with some delay had followed Shepard's lead, tore them to pieces.

"Mark!" a shout came mere seconds after the first assault. Before the dust had even settled, two streaks shot through the smoke and hit the center of the spiral. The first didn't do much of anything but the second seemed to hit just the right spot, breaking the artifact apart and causing its blue glow to vanish for a moment before exploding in a bright, surprisingly powerful blast.

"Holy shit," one of the marines whistled as pieces of debris began raining on them.

"Try the Ain Jalut right now," Shepard ordered.

"Ain Jalut, this is ground team. We found the marines and need immediate evac at the alien ruin east of the camp, how copy?"

"Good copy, ground team. Birds are on their way," it came back to him.

Daniel Morneau was relieved. In spite of everything, all the pieces had fallen into their favour. Their enemy had been so obsessed with the artifact that they hadn't even seen their defeat coming. The mission had turned from incredibly risky to textbook within a single moment. They had recovered critical intel, found the marines and stopped the rogue operatives from doing whatever it was that they had been doing with the spiral.

It was too good to be true.

He should've seen it coming.

There it was again, the growling he had heard before. Where was it coming from?

"Alright," one of the marines, Pelagia if he wasn't mistaken, exclaimed. "Can we please get out of this fucking baseme-"

Daniel Morneau had always had quick reflexes, a trait only honed by the training required to become a Section 13 specialist. As such he was the first to comprehend what was happening and the first to react to it. Centering his sights on the creature that had just dropped from the ceiling and was now quite literally tearing the marine to pieces with its sharpened talons, he squeezed his trigger moments before Shepard did the same thing. Rounds smashed into the back of this husk of a human right until it stopped slashing. But even though they had reacted quickly, the damage had been done.

The marine was dead.

"Corpsman!" Hackett roared before trying to reach his comrade only to be pulled back by Shepard mere moments before more of the creatures dropped from the ceiling, a quick glance upwards combined with the night vision filter of his HUD allowing Morneau to see them pour from what appeared to be air ducts. How could they forget to account for the rest of the missing staff? They had killed maybe fifteen rogue operatives, according to Rei there had been nearly a hundred and fifty of them on site.

"We have to get out of here!" Shepard roared all the while pressing a button on the watch integrated into his left armguard, it's bluish glow turning red almost instantly, indicating that he had just activated the watch's most important function, sending a prepared distress message to the closest non-local Section 13 asset. When the captain realised what the specialist meant, he looked up.

"Contact right above us! Back to the stairs, get back to the stairs god dammit!" the captain ordered before bursts of rifle fire drowned out every other word that left his mouth. At first the SR-8s did their job, taking down the husks closest to them and managing to keep them at a distance but once the first guns ran dry, things went down hill quickly. One marine was jumped by an entire pack of the monsters and a muffled detonation of a grenade followed after one of the creatures had managed to shove his sharp claw through the softer parts of the soldiers armor. As a result of the marine choosing the way he wanted to go, taking as many of his killers with him as possible, blood spurted everywhere. Nearly simultaneously with him taking down his third target, two more of Hackett's men died, one having his throat cut open by the dying swing of a particular fast opponent and the other being mutilated by two husks that had gotten a hold of him. Despite the captain's best efforts and steady aim, they simply tore the screaming soldier apart, pieces of the hands he used to shield his face from their blows flying towards him.

Put it in a box and don't let it rule you.

Morneau glanced behind them between the mechanical process of reloading his rifle. They were almost by the stairway. Not that it meant anything, there were too many of them. More marines died with every second and the husks got closer.

At this rate they wouldn't make it.

But he wasn't gonna go out without a good fight.

Letting go of his rifle as the first of the creatures managed to reach him, he pushed his forearm between the husk's mouth and his own face, pressing his elbow into the creature's neck and pulling his SIS-8 from its holster, firing two shots into the circular implant located in the abdomen of the husk. Unsatisfied with the result, mostly because the thing was still trying to kill him, he pushed the creature back and delivered a biotically fueled punch to its chin, snapping its head back and causing it to drop dead.

Apparently he had hit something important.

"This isn't working, Specialist," Hackett grunted as his gun clicked empty just as his first foot touched the lowest step of the stairway. Devoid of any more ammunition, the marine officer reached for his Phalanx, the mass-accelerator pistol that had replaced the weapon Morneau himself was currently using to put down more of the mindless beasts rushing towards them without any regard for their own safety. "That intel, is it really as important as he says it is?" he asked Morneau as Shepard himself slapped a new magazine into his weapon and kept firing.

They had taken everything, recordings, reports, scientific findings. They didn't know what Rei would be able to do with it but given everything he had seen today, it might've been the most important knowledge in the galaxy.

"Yes."

"Then get the hell out of here," the marine instructed while helping one of his few remaining soldiers up the stairs, only the narrower space they were now in allowing them to keep the husks at bay for now.

"We're not leaving y-," Morneau was about to protest when Shepard pulled him backwards.

"Yes we are," the specialist insisted in a dark tone before nodding towards Hackett, still holding onto Morneau. "Give them hell, Captain."

"What the fuck are you doing? Let go of me," Morneau argued.

"We can't save everyone," the man explained before shoving him up the stairs. "We have to leave right now!"

"What are you waiting for, go!" Hackett shouted from below moments before his gun overheated and he had to resort to his knife for the time being. "Go, goddamnit, go!"

First he looked at the remaining marines, they were the reason they were here in the first place. Then he looked at the gun in his hand. It was about to be empty, he only had one more magazine left. Finally his gaze wandered to the husks. Hackett and his men were good, they'd buy them a minute or so but they couldn't stop that, none of them could stop that. But some of them could buy enough time for the rest of them to prevent it from happening somewhere else.

This was the part of his job that made him wonder just when he'd no longer be able to be on the right side of things when it came down. Every time he thought he found the line he wouldn't cross, something happened to make him do it. After a moment of hesitation that he realised could've potentially cost him his life, he followed Shepard up the stairs. Somewhere along the way to the top the gunfire below them stopped, another explosion predating the sound of the horde coming after them.

"Ain Jalut," Shepard spoke between sharp breaths as they cleared the final level of stairs in record time. "Hostiles are right behind us, we need an armed extraction. Where the hell are you?"

"Three minutes out, over," came the reply as they rushed through the corridors of the alien ruin.

"We don't have three minutes!" Shepard replied and a quick look behind them confirmed that. The first of many husks had just reached the end of the stairs. These things were fast, faster than either him or Shepard. Sure, they had a head start but that would only serve them so long. By the time the Kodiaks reached them, they'd be dead. As they approached the bridge ahead of the entrance, time slowed down for Morneau even though his mind began racing.

Could they take the rest of the husks? He was almost out of ammunition but he still had his biotics to fall back on. He might still stand a chance.

Had Hackett and his men taken out enough of them? The explosion had been small but the stairway was narrow. No way to know for sure how many had been caught in the blast.

There couldn't be that many left of them, could there? A hundred and fifty of Cerberus science division had been deployed here. He had taken out what? Ten husks? There might only be a few more of them. Another look behind him revealed 'a few' to be at least another two dozen.

Without numbers or ammunition, they wouldn't stand a chance.

If only he had picked up the damn mass accelerator, then he wouldn't be having this problem right about now.

A final question rang through Morneau's mind as his first foot touched the bridge.

Should he let Shepard pass him and try to buy him more time to escape? Between the two, he had far less to live for then the older specialist. Daniel Morneau had no real attachments outside of Section 13. The Grissom Academy cadets he had befriended? They had no idea where he was or what he was doing. The girl from his last shore leave? He'd never call her, he never called, it was better that way. He hadn't had parents for as long as he could remember, he had no family, well at least none that had given enough of a shit about him to have him removed from foster care and he no kids to look after.

Shepard had all of that.

The man needed to come back home.

The choice was obvious.

This was it.

Seconds before he was about to stop and make his stand on the bridge, he felt a sudden weightlessness, only countless of hours of training and sheer luck allowing him to simultaneously leap forward, grab a hold of the portion of the bridge that hadn't fallen into the abyss below him and manage to lock hands with Shepard who was now dangling one wrong twitch away from certain death. Contrary to the impression that action movies and similar works of fiction gave, it was incredibly difficult to even hold your own bodyweight, further increased by the armor supposed to protect your life, with one hand while holding onto your friend with the other. In fact it wasn't just incredibly difficult, it was downright impossible and they both would've already fallen to their death if not for Morneau's 'natural' ability to reduce the mass of objects. Gripping Shepard's wrist as tight as humanly possible and extending a purple bubble around him, he looked up at the lone piece of rock on which both their lives depended on.

It didn't exactly look like it would last much longer.

"Can you reach for anything?" he grunted while trying his best not to move. One wrong twist and they were goners. "Because this thing isn't gonna hold much longer," he added before the sound of a body impacting with the ground below them caused him to assure himself that he was in fact still holding onto Shepard. The blue smear of what used to be one of these husks splattered against a walkway below them answered the question for him. As did the next one trying to leap over the gap, hitting the wall below them instead and as did the one after that which only barely missed his mark, almost embedding his claws in Shepard's legs.

"I got nothing."

"Try climbing me, I can hold it," he suggested as anther husk fell to its death next to him.

"Won't work," Shepard replied as Morneau felt his grip on the stone loosen. They had to come up with something right now, otherwise they'd fall to their death, either because he lost his hold or because one of the suicidal cybernetics actually hit them.

"Maybe you ca-"

"Morneau," the man's voice was remarkably calm.

"What?"

"You have to let go of me," no way he was doing that.

"The hell I will."

"The mission comes first. You need to let go, you need to get the intel to the director."

"Save the preaching for later, Shepard."

"You can't save everyone, Morneau. Finally get that into your head," he had already used that excuse for leaving behind the marines. He wasn't going to use it now.

"Not everyone, just you, you stubborn bastard," he groaned before focusing on the rock above him. "I gotta try."

'Just pull yourself up,' he told himself. 'It's not that hard. You can do this.'

"Sorry, not this time," Shepard practically whispered just before Morneau felt the weight that was pulling him down vanish, looking down just in time to see the man who's armguard he was still holding onto fall into the darkness below.

Put it in a box and don't let it rule you.

Letting go of the modular piece of armor and pulling himself up, Daniel Morneau made sure that none of the husks had made the jump after him and ran out of the alien ruins, practically falling into a Kodiak.

"Where are the survivors? You said you had the marines. You're it?" a crew member asked while trying to help him to his feet.

"Yeah," he muttered, waving away the offered hand. "I'm it."

* * *

 **Five Hours Later, 19. June 2414 AD, HSASV Ain Jalut**

"You plan on getting out of your armor anytime soon? The way I see it, you could probably use a check up."

"I'm fine, Sir," he replied dismissive.

"I told you not to call me that," the familiar voice reminded him.

"I'm said I'm fine, Redford."

"Yeah and the medics might even buy it," the blonde man said before sitting down onto the crate opposite to him, leaning his back against the wall. "But I know you better than that, Morneau. I read the report, I saw the helmet footage. I know what happened and there's no way you're fine right now," a moment passed. "Listen, this isn't on you, don't-."

"-let it rule me?" he knew that he had no right to sound this hostile towards Redford, Morneau might've lost a colleague in Shepard but Redford, Redford had just lost his closest friend.

"Exactly," there was sympathy in his tone.

"They're all dead. Shepard, Hackett, the marines, even Cerberus," he muttered,looking away from the spot of ship deck he had been staring holes into for the past three hours and focusing on the man opposite to him instead. "Everyone else died and I walked away. Why?"

"Sometimes that's how it goes in our line of work."

"That simple, huh?"

"Nothing's simple about our line of work," Redford offered a small smile. "I know this won't mean anything to you right now," he went on,"but you're about the last person who's to blame for all of this."

"Then who is?"

"How about Cerberus who didn't think twice about tinkering with something they don't fully understand? How about this Harbinger twat these lunatics keep going on about? How about the directors who didn't bother to tell any of us about this shit until yesterday?" the man counted before lowering his head. There it was, the first sign of actual sadness. "Or how about me, the guy who wasn't around when my partner needed me most?"

"This isn't on y-"

"No, no, no, that's not how this works, Morneau," Redford interrupted him with a dark chuckle. "If you get to blame yourself, so do I. Last time I checked you didn't patent bloody self-pity," and there was the hurt he had been expecting, the reason why he had somewhat hoped to avoid this conversation. Taking an audible breath and visibly calming down, Redford rose from his improvised seat and walked over to him. "Alright. There are two ways you can deal with this. Interested?"

"All ears."

"Either you let this destroy you," he offered him a hand,"or you make sure that their deaths meant something and keep fighting who's responsible for this. If it's the former, fine,"the man shrugged. "In that case Shepard died for nothing and I choose the wrong guy after all," he looked at the hand.

He would fight for the things Shepard died for.

He would earn this.

"But if it's the later, if you still got that fire in you," he said just before Morneau grabbed a hold of the hand,"then you and I are gonna see this through."

"To the end?" he asked.

"To the end," Redford pulled him up.

* * *

 _Codex: Earth_

 _'The Blue Marble', 'The cradle of mankind's civilization', 'that dump humans call home'. All these phrases used to describe Earth, the third planet of the Sol System and home to humanity, are accurate in one way or another. On the one hand Earth is a world with an incredibly diverse eco system, the biggest human population in the galaxy and the economic center of the HSA and on the other hand it is a world impacted by the stages all societies experience at one point or another. Even though advanced technology managed to heal the wounds industrial pollution and exploitation inflicted on the planet before mankind discovered mass effect technology, the scars of history are as visible on Earth as they are on the home worlds of the other species which reached a population of over ten billion individuals before achieving space flight, Palaven and Sur'Kesh._

 _Home to some of the most densely populated cities in the galaxy, overpopulation and poverty still remain an issue in spite of the swift technological progress that occurred once the United Nations, the predecessor government of the Human Systems Alliance, settled worlds outside of the solar system and enabled mass emigration from their home to quickly grow the colonies Terra Nova, Arcadia and Horizon. While public services have been created to ensure that starvation and crime don't ravage the poorest individuals of its society, social problems unheard of in other human colonies still remain relevant on Earth, its massive population presenting a unique challenge to the HSA._

 _Given the size and importance of Earth, it should be noted that unlike most other planets within human space, the home of humanity is not defended by a Colonial Watch (See Entry: Human System Alliance Army Colonial Watches) but instead has its own defense force made up of millions of HSA army and marine regulars trained to hold Earth at any cost. The only other planets which share this exception are the three first extra-solar colonies of mankind, Terra Nova, Arcadia and Horizon. Furthermore the HSA Navy's Home Fleet stands guard to ensure that Earth, Mars, Luna and the Charon Relay remain protected._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well... this happened. Paragade... I knew it was gonna be tough for me to write but I did it. (also I told one dude I'd get it out on sunday and by the point I write this A/N: it's still sunday...)**

 **I'm not gonna lie to you, killing of one of the first characters I created for this story wasn't easy (which you might have noticed because instead of gibbing him to pieces, I gave him the good old disney death) but since I had it written in my mind that Akuze needed to be different from the other two backgrounds in the fact that it's a complete and utter failure for its character instead of being their most defining victory, so it just had to happen like this. Besides my strange desire to give Morneau a victory by compeletly crushing him (idk why, I actually really like him as a character.. it just fits well with where his arc is going to go eventually that it all starts with what he's gonna consider his biggest failure), I also wanted Akuze to be meaningful because as you'll soon see.**

 **Now, I know some of you already saw this coming, but nonetheless I hope that Alec Shepard's death and the scene that followed afterwards were as impactful as I wanted to be. This is what will drive the lone survivor. Instead of turning into the utter edgelord "hurp durp everyone I know is dead so I get to be a dick and you all have to accept it", the fact that people died for him (and that he had the right person say the right thing to him immediatly afterwards) is going to be his biggest chip but also his biggest motivator. Sure, he is a lone survivor and as such I will touch on the mental impact this kind of event has on a human but before you get any ideas, this doesn't break him.**

 **This makes him, what defines him.**

 **I feel like growing through your pain is a much better message and topic than letting emotional trauma get the better of you (there are so many characters out there who turn into total dicks because people close to them died and I'm sick of hearing about them. That's a shitty motivation.)** **Now of course this chatper still means a lot of things, it changed Morneau and the most important character tropes that will accompany him over the course of Semper Vigilo are now on the table for you the readers to see.**

 **I think this is the first time a charcter has an entire chapter soley dedicated to his POV.**

 **That's a first.**

 **I think...**

 **Also rip to Francis Hackett, the guy that only exists because I screwed my timeline early on and didn't realise that Steven Hackett would already have to be way older by that point... For someone who wasn't planned on existing, you were a good supporting character that went out like a champ. (he deserved that much after positivly influencing Saren)**

 **Also also... for those that didn't catch the statue link or didn't catch the one liner in ME 3 that explains it, yeah... they just walked around an Inusannon ruin (yet another thing I will pick up alongside the League of One!) I actually have teased their existance in Semper Vigilo since a long time, I just never outright said they'd show up.**

 **Anyway, review and let me know what you think.**

 **For the Record we're at 330 reviews, 562 favorites and 661 follows.**

 **Also for the record, local time is 23:56, so nailed the sunday)**

 **See you around next time.**


	42. Empty Condolences

**Chapter 42. Empty Condolences**

* * *

 **Two Days Later, 2155 CE, Citadel, Spectre Office**

"Cover story flimsy," Valern's hologram mumbled. Even though he was only a few minutes away, the salarian wasn't physically present. It would raise a lot questions if he were to be seen entering the Spectre Office. Councilors summoned the agents of the council if they required their talents, they didn't come looking for them within one of the several command centers they maintained across the Citadel. "Thresher maws would leave visible disruption of local terrain."

"It's not like we'll let people take a stroll around Akuze anytime soon," Harper countered.

"Still, could use improving."

"It will have to do for now," the human retorted, the unnatural shape and color of his eyes hidden by his holographic depiction. In the early stages of their joint-operation, he had been mistrusting of Cerberus' director. Back then physical contact had been considered the trigger for the artifacts' influence and since Harper had come into contact with one, it seemed unlikely that he had managed to remain unaffected. Only time and the medical reports indicating that the man hadn't been affected beyond the very visible change to his eyes had caused the turian Spectre to finally put his trust in him. After taking a sip from the beverage he was so font of, Harper continued. "Besides, the public is our smallest problem right now."

"Agreed," Saren's brother replied while presumably looking at the frozen image of the spiral-like relict responsible for this disaster. "If the artifacts really work in a similar fashion to this technology, they may already have caused irreversible damage."

"You think we've been compromised?" Director Rei asked calmly, which in itself was surprising considering that besides Desolas and Harper, he was the one most likely to be affected by this newly discovered effect. He was one of the members of their operation that had spent significant time around the artifacts, potentially getting exposed to the same signals and sounds that 'Object Theta' had used to turn the Cerberus agents on two separate occasions.

"Us? Unlikely. As far as our analysis suggests, the signal needs time to get a firm hold of someone," the general shook his head, "and just like your surviving operative, neither of us were around the artifacts long enough for the effects to manifest themselves," a moment passed before Desolas went on, his tone now somewhat more somber. "But the people who took a room full of these things to Khar'shan?"

"Spirits, the batarians are sitting on a ticking bomb," Saren finished his brother's line of thought. "They probably don't even know what these things are really capable of. We should warn them."

"Warning Hegemony about the artifacts would risk exposing ourselves to the galaxy," Valern injected.

"Not only that, it'd also be pointless," Desolas muttered."Compromised or not, they're batarians, they won't listen to us. If we tell them, they'll probably think that we're trying to get them to hand over valuable tech and start tinkering with the artifacts even more just to spite us."

While he had little love left for the batarian people, he couldn't help but feel sorry for them. If the artifacts worked exactly like the spiral and the Hegemony wasn't aware of their real danger, it was already too late. Hundreds of high ranking batarians could've already been swayed to the Harbinger's plot and if that was the case, they were not only beyond saving but a danger to the rest of the galaxy as well. A hundred and fifty turned Cerberus operatives on one planet were a localized threat, that could easily be contained. The same couldn't be said about half the Hegemony's leadership being compromised. That was a devastating scenario.

They'd have to keep an even closer eye on the pariah state from here on out, just in case the Harbinger decided to tell his new pawns to start another war.

"And dig their own grave even deeper while they're at it," Rei sighed. "Putting the artifacts aside, I'm afraid that the Leviathan might've already sealed their faith. If an orb or a spiral can do this, then I don't want to know what might be hiding in that wreckage."" he said as his hologram was replaced by the image of one of the creatures that the human forces had encountered on Akuze. He could see why the humans had decided to call them husks, Haliat and his pirates had looked like twisted cybernetic experiments but at least they had still been somewhat alive. These things were a different story, they were shells of their former selves, reanimated corpses turned into killing machines.

"Ship ancient and heavily damaged, might be harmless," the salarian reasoned.

"Or it might hold something far worse entirely," the human argued. "If this incident taught us one thing, it's that we know far too little about these artifacts to work under the assumption that they're harmless. From here on out, even the air around them is dangerous until proven otherwise."

"Point taken," Valern nodded before placing a hand in front of his face. "Maybe time to bring in Asari Republics has arrived?"

"Which republics? The ones that hate my people and will second guess anything we have to say, the one's who couldn't care less about what the council tells them or the ones that are too small to make a real difference?" Harper spoke up in return, repeating his position on the subject matter. While both the human and turian governments and portions of STG had known about their investigation for years, asari authorities had completely been left out of the picture until now. The lack of a centralized government to confront made it difficult for them to find the right point of contact. The Primarch of Palaven, STG's command and the HSA's heads of government were all offices that Saren's allies could trust to keep their secret until the right time had come, the same couldn't be said about the individual states that formed the basis of asari society. If one republic got wind of the other one knowing something they didn't, favours and ancient debts would be called in and before they could put a stop to it, the extranet would be flooded with their knowledge. Those were the drawbacks of a society as free as the asari's, secrets didn't stay secret for very long.

"Not talking about republics themselves, talking about military. Individual matriarchs unreliable, follow interests of their followers, not the interests of Asari Repulbics. However Republican Navy different. Used to keeping secrets, even from own government. Kept discovery of the Citadel hidden for years," he breathed in for a short second to recover from the fast pace at which the words left his mouth. "Trustworthy ally."

"If ships like the Leviathan start showing up al over the galaxy, we'll need the asari," Desolas nodded after a few moments. "The Destiny Ascension is the most powerful ship in the galaxy, fighting a war without it would be foolish. Unless there is any opposition, I'll reach out to an old contact of mine and see what I can do," he stopped briefly, waiting for someone to speak up. When no reply came, he went on with a nod. "Good. I'll make the necessary preparations and inform you on further developments as they happen."

"General, do you still think that we can beat these things in a conventional fashion?" Harper once more spoke up just as his brother had finished his sentence and this time Saren found himself agreeing. Between the Leviathan of Dis, these 'husks', which seemed to be reanimated corpses, and the artifacts' newly discovered abilities, he too had come to question if his brother's plan would be the complete success they needed it to be. An enemy who could turn their own dead into weapons wasn't exactly the kind of foe you'd want to fight in a war of attrition. For every soldier they lost, their foe gained one and even the battles they won would give their enemy something to use against them.

"I think that unless we find another way, fighting them with everything we have is the best and only option we can prepare for," his brother replied as his own holographic depiction turned to face the human.

"If Akuze proved anything, it's that we still don't know enough to really prepare for the Harbinger's endgame," Harper said in return. "This phenomenon the artifacts use to," he paused his explanation, trying to find the right word, "indoctrinate people into switching sides, it needs to be studied. We need to find a way to defend ourselves against it and we need to find a way to reliably detect it. If we don't, our armies may not even get to the frontlines of your war without sleeper agents tearing them apart from within."

"Data suggests that electromagnetic waves and different sounds are partially responsible for effect, shielding ourselves against them difficult but possible," Valern was the first to answer. "However can't account for other possible causes until more in depth study of its function. Detection also problematic."

"Even if we had access to the artifacts, Director," his brother replied on the basis of the salarian's brief assessment. "Studying them is out of the question. The fate of your field team proves that it's too dangerous."

"What's the alternative, staying out of their way? What happens if there's another incursion? Are we just going to ignore it?"

"Until we have the certainty that we won't be compromised, our only option is to stay as far away from them as possible," Desolas repeated.

"Good people died to give us that knowledge. The least we can do is make their deaths count."

"And we will," Desolas sighed,"by making sure that we don't repeat the same mistakes they made."

"The mistakes weren't theirs, they were ours," the human muttered in return. "If we had studied the other artifacts instead of blowing them up, we would've been able to prevent this."

"Jack, the general is right. If these things can sway us by simply being in the same room, destroying them is the only thing we can do," the other human offered.

"Destroying the artifacts might win battles but knowing how they work?" Harper countered,"Figuring out what makes them and their creator tick? That's how we'll win your war, General Arterius."

"To vanquish a foe requires more than just brute force," Saren began to recall a proverb that had been drilled into the minds of most turians at some point in their lives,"to vanquish a foe requires understanding-"

"Planing and cunning," his brother interrupted. "and on any other day, I'd agree with you. But if we make ourselves vulnerable by trying to understand our foe, the only victory that will be gained from it will belong to him," the older turian went on. "I understand that this recent display of our foe's abilities has all of us on edge but we can't allow ourselves to be compromised. We're the only thing standing between the galaxy and these monsters. If we fall, if we're 'indoctrinated' to the Harbinger's will," he quoted Harper,"then there won't be any hope for any one."

While that might've sufficed to calm down Harper, Saren found himself unsatisfied with the answer. Harper was right, they had to do something. Drawing battle lines and digging trenches would only get them so far.

"When we started this, I promised myself to shine a torch into the shadow the Harbinger is hiding in," Saren replied, recalling the day all of this had began after one of his closest friends had died on some nameless patch of dirt, chasing a rogue, crazed Blackwatch captain compromised by the same artifact that had brought their group together. "From the shadows, we preserve the light," he repeated the words imprinted on the sigil of the legion his brother was in charge of and he himself had been trained in. "How are we supposed to preserve the light, if we're scared of stepping into the shadows?" If the following silence was any indication, his fellow conspirators hadn't expected him of all people to oppose his brother. Desolas and him had always formed a united front. Even when Saren had gone to hunt for clues himself, the growing worry that they wouldn't be able to win against the Harbinger driving him to use his status as a Spectre to investigate privately and recover prothean artifacts and intelligence on his own, they had stood together on every occasion.

"If we study the artifacts, we wouldn't step into the shadows, we'd step into the Harbinger's trap," his brother disagreed before looking at his omni-tool. "I realise that some of you don't agree with the way I plan to fight this threat but I also trust that all of you know better than to meddle with something we don't understand. I will contact you individually once I managed to reach my asari contact," he paused again, looking at Saren himself now, his voice growing darker, the faintest hint of something the younger turian would most closely describe as a mixture of fear and determination. "Until then, I suggest that we go our separate ways, sort things out on our own homefronts and start making preparations for a further escalation of the Harbinger's effort. He showed us another piece of his plan on Akuze and unless I'm mistaken, it won't be long until subterfuge and secrecy are replaced by brute force," and just like that the holograms started to disappear, one after the other vanishing into thin air until only a lone blue projection remained, its continued presence stopping Saren from disconnecting himself.

"Was there anything else?" he asked, while looking at the hologram.

"I get the feeling that you and I seem to have reached a similar conclusion, Agent Arterius," the human replied before pulling on the cigarette in his hand, its tip glowing a lighter shade of blue for a few seconds.

"And what would that be, Director Harper?"

"That your brother's strategy will not succeed on its own and that he's no longer capable of seeing beyond his own way of doing things," his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at that, not because he didn't like what the human had to say but because a part of him felt like it wasn't his place to question Desolas. His brother was one of the most accomplished commanders of the Hierarchy, experienced on every level of command. If anyone would lead them to victory, it would be him.

Right?

While Desolas didn't talk about it, Saren knew that his encounter with Haliat had changed his brother in a way he didn't think Desolas could be changed. It had shown him something that genuinely terrified him, something that he couldn't conquer through his own strength. He could see how that might lead to his brother's resolve outweighing his reason. When faced with the impossible, Blackwatch had taught both of them to simply keep fighting. Saren's time as a Spectre had shown him that there were different ways to fight an enemy but Desolas was a soldier through and through. When faced with an enemy intend on destroying him, his brother's natural reaction was to make it as hard as possible for the enemy to achieve that and focus on one thing and one thing alone, winning the fight. It was this mindset that had made him the exemplary soldier and general he was today.

But was it also clouding his judgment? Was it responsible for him openly questioning Desolas? Was his resolve to defeat the Harbinger head on leading him on a path that would result in a catastrophe? Surprised by the sudden doubt he was feeling, Saren remained silent, taking a moment to consider Harper's words. No matter how much he disliked the notion, the possibility of Desolas focusing his efforts on the wrong solution existed.

"Even if I can't deny that there is some truth in what you say, the artifacts are too dangerous. Whatever you think you need to do with them, Director, don't," he finally spoke. Even if his brother's judgment was clouded, exposing themselves to the Harbinger's influence would do them no favours. He might not agree with his methods but there was no doubt in the dangers this 'indoctrination' presented.

"I am not talking about the artifacts, Agent Arterius."

In retrospective, it shouldn't have surprised Saren. Humans might've been crazy but they weren't suicidal, his time with Anderson taught him that there were things even they considered too risky to attempt.

"Then what is it that you're talking about?" he asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Do you recall why your brother contacted Doctor T'Soni?" Harper asked, dipping the tip of his cigarette into the small tray at his side. "He wanted someone who could see things from a different perspective, someone willing to try an angle we had previously ignored, overlooked or dismissed. Maybe it's time that we follow her example."

"Meaning?"

"We've been focused on the things right in front of us, searching for relicts of the past and digging through ancient ruins in the hopes of finding answers," the director began, "yet we've ignored some of the implications our discoveries had. Take the coordinates you recovered, we never really followed up on them."

"The ones in the Perseus Veil?" Saren remembered. "We checked them, there was nothing there."

"That's not entirely true, we only searched in front of the Veil, we didn't actually travel beyond it," the human countered.

"The only thing behind the Veil are geth."

"Precisely this attidude kept us from finding whatever indoctrinated Had'dah," the human's reply caused Saren to recall his encounter with the batarian entrepreneur. It had been his and Anderson's first mission. "You said it yourself, if we're too scared to step into the shade, how can we hope to achieve anything?" Harper figured before exhaling a small cloud of smoke and looking at something just out of view, the faint glint in his eyes suggesting that it was the sun Saren knew to be visible from his office. "The geth are the only lead we never followed up on and as of right now, they're the only one we have left."

"Ignoring that they tend to shoot anyone who trespasses into the Veil," Saren countered briefly, certain that he didn't need to add that their isolation had come at the prize of billions of quarian lives, "the geth cut themselves off from the galaxy nearly three hundred years ago. What makes you think they'll want to talk to you?"

"The fact that their behaviour is changing," Harper shrugged before a beeping originated from Saren's omni-tool. Opening the file, the first question the turian asked himself was how exactly the director had gotten his hands on a classified quarian reconnaissance report. Endangered species or not, the quarians still held onto a lot of the knowledge that had been necessary to create the geth, cyber security included. "Forward observers of the Patrol Fleet are reporting the same thing across the board, geth scouts are leaving their territory and pushing into the Attican Traverse. Open the document and see for yourself." He recognized some of these worlds mentioned in it from their own data base, most of them had been scheduled for expeditions until the incident on Akuze had placed everything on a hold and at least half of them had only been marked because of the map he had found. "And as far as we can tell, they're looking for the same thing we're looking for."

That assumption was more than just reasonable.

"Director, trying to contact the geth is just as likely to get you killed as studying one of the artifacts."

"So is doing nothing," the man retorted in a way Saren had to agree with. "Besides, talking to the geth is only one of the ways we can figure out what they're up to." Sometimes Saren wondered why both the humans who directly worked with him always had to be so cryptic. It certainly wasn't related to their species, Anderson was never like this. Did they simply enjoy people asking them questions?

"What do you have in mind?"

"We aren't the only ones interested in the geth. The quarians are following their every step," he explained. "I intend to use that."

"You want to spy on the quarians?"

"I want you to have a talk with one of them," another beep. Now Saren was looking at the picture of a quarian, an attached file letting him know that this was the commander of the Migrant Fleet's operation in the Attican Traverse. How exactly did Harper have all of this? Was the HSA actively spying on the quarians? Now that he thought about it, they most likely were. The Migrant Fleet, home to the last survivors of a species, tended to be treated with justified suspicion wherever it went. The captains of the armada had the nasty habit of strip mining uninhabited worlds in their path, even if they were claimed by other sovereign nations or corporations. It made sense for the humans to keep an eye on them, especially if their scouts were now moving through what was largely considered the HSA's primary room of expansion. He just hoped that the Migrant Fleet's only interest in the Traverse were the geth, the last thing they needed were overeager quarian captains trying to dodge the human navy on their hunt for resources or bullying smaller independent colonies under the HSA's protection into giving them supplies.

"Why me? Why not one of your people?" Saren asked after closing the file. He got that Harper had decided to have this talk because his earlier actions had shown that he too had some doubt in the plan of his brother but that still didn't explain why he wouldn't just send a human operative to complete the task.

"On their bad days the quarians are only slightly more talkative than the geth. The way I see it, a Spectre has the highest chance of getting them to share what they know about the geth."

"And a Spectre can also chase after whatever it is that they tell him," Saren reasoned. This definitely beat talking to geth or trying to study a piece of alien tech that might turn him into a traitor.

"Exactly."

He hesitated for a moment, which in itself was unusual since Saren had gotten a reputation for taking on every mission, no matter the odds of success. It wasn't the logistics of the assignment that were causing him to consider declining, it was the idea of going behind Desolas' back. Even if he wasn't betraying him, he would still act because he didn't completely trust in him.

A sigh escaped his mouth, breaking the silence that had settled in the room while Harper had waited for an answer. Blackwatch had taught him that the more a hunter knew about his prey, the more likely he was to succeed in his pursuit. Studying the artifacts wasn't an option, the worlds discovered through the map he had unlocked with the help of Doctor T'Soni had fallen out of the picture as well, the risk of finding more of the spirals and fueling the Harbinger's campaign in the process was simply too big and beyond that, they didn't have a whole lot of other leads to follow.

The only way they could learn more about their prey, if one could even consider calling their enemy that given that he had played them at every corner, was by chasing the other hunter they knew to be on its trail, the geth.

"I'll have to make preparations," the turian Spectre finally nodded. If it was between the galaxy and sticking to his brother, there was only one choice he could make, no matter how it made him feel.

"Inform me if you require support."

"Thank you but that won't be necessary," Saren finished while looking at Anderson's contact details."I've got all the support I'll need right here."

* * *

 **26\. June 2414 AD, Benning** **, Park Cemetery**

Just a couple more steps.

She could do this.

For something almost completely empty, the coffin was very heavy, far heavier than it ever should've been. Since the HSA had been 'unable' to recover her father's body, wherever it lay, the only things inside the wooden object were a badge, a flag and whatever commendations the man had earned without his family's knowledge over the course of his career.

When Emily had first gotten the news, she hadn't entirely believed it, thinking that someone, somewhere had made a mistake and notified the wrong next of kin as a result. Her dad dying? Never. He might've worked in a dangerous line of work but her father always came back home, it was one of the few consistencies she had grown to rely on in the twenty six years of her life. After she had gotten over the initial phase of denial, Emily had done what she knew she shouldn't have done, locked her own emotions of loss away just like she had done when she had lost soldiers during past missions. It was far from healthy but it had gotten her all the way to Benning and it was also what was currently allowing her to finish the grueling long way towards the still empty hole in the earth in front of her.

There we go, just one more.

That's it.

Letting go of the coffin and returning to her previous position with the rest of the people attending the funeral, she once more pushed down the grief trying to get the better of her and sat down next to her mother, who much like her had taken refuge in the mindset that allowed them to do the things they did. As her eyes remained fixated on the wooden box which was supposed to hold her father but didn't for a reason she'd never know, Emily really went into herself for the first time in days, intending to confront her feelings, something she had intentionally been avoiding up to now.

For her the single worst thing was not knowing why, when or how her dad had died. As an N7, she understood the need to keep the details of whatever operation had resulted in his death a secret but as a daughter she couldn't help but feel cheated. She and her mother deserved to know what had happened, they had a right to get the assurance that his death hadn't been something like a random accident. Secret agent or not, they deserved something akin to closure. Emily had always known that the life her dad had chosen didn't leave a lot of room for what she and her mother wanted or deserved but even then, she felt something other than grief surfacing now that she was actually thinking about his death.

Anger.

She felt angry that she'd never know what had happened, angry that a thousand regulations and protocols were keeping the people who could her what had happened from doing so, angry that in spite of everything he had done for them, everything he had sacrificed for them, most people would never know about her dad's life and his ultimate fate and angry about the HSA being completely content with it staying that way. It didn't seem fair. With everything they had done for the HSA, at least she and her mother deserved some answers, even if it was just the how and why.

The faint noise of someone walking up to the empty podium in front of her snapped Emily out of what she now recognized to be the second phase of grief. Watching as the tall, blonde man made his way towards the coffin, brushing his fingers along its edge as he went past it, she also briefly glanced back to the crowd that was attending the service and spotted several familiar faces, none other than Chancellor Goyle among them. It made sense for her to be here, not only because of what her father had done during his life time, it still felt strange to say it like this, but also because she and her dad had spent years working together on the Citadel. Even if whoever got wind of this gathering would interpret this as nothing but a formal visit, Emily knew that Goyle was here not because her office required her to be but because she wanted to pay her final respects to a now gone friend.

Alerted by the sound of someone clearing his throat, she returned her attention to the podium, her uncle standing behind it, the rare absence of his smile once more grounding this entire ordeal in reality.

"A husband, a father, a friend," he spoke, beginning his eulogy for her father."Alec was all of those things but he was also so much more than that. All of us came here today because in one way or another Alec changed our lives for the better. Wherever he went and whatever he did, he approched it with a commitment and a passion I've rarely seen elsewhere. But it wasn't just how he approached what he did, it was also why he did those things that set him apart from most other people. Until I met Alec, I didn't think that someone could be driven solely by a desire to do good, that someone could put themselves out there every day simply because they believed it was the right thing to do. I always figured that people needed a personal stake to take a risk, even if that stake was something as simple as having a purpose in life," the man paused, glancing into the distance just as the noon sun hit his face. He had long since stopped looking at the small piece of paper in front of him, now speaking from the heart instead. "Meeting Alec changed that. He showed me that the only reason you need to do what's right, the only incentive you need to take action, is the conviction to step up for someone who can't step up for themselves and to make sure that you're on the right side of things when the chips are on the table. For that, I'll always be thankful," she didn't recall a time when she had ever seen this particular side of Grant Redford. It was strange to see him this somber.

"He may no longer be with us but as long as we keep the things he treasured close to our heart, as long as we honor his memory by standing up for the things he believed in, he'll never be truly gone. He will keep living through all of us because we will carry his legacy into the future," she wasn't entirely sure when she had locked eyes with him but by now it was obvious that this final part of his speech had been meant for her. "A mutual friend of Alec and mine once told us that the best test of character anyone can be put through is the one no one else will ever bare witness to and that we only show our true colours when we're faced with the possibility of making a choice no one will ever be able to judge us for," he spoke as if he was remembering something that had only happened yesterday. "And I can personally attest to the fact that Alec always stuck to his principles, no matter the situation," was it strange that Emily began to suspect that her uncle might've known her father better than she had? "He was a man of integrity and action and he leaves behind an example we should all strive towards."

After that the man once more walked back to his place and the same procedure she had seen happen to some of her former comrades began to play out according to protocol. Even though her father wasn't being buried for what he had been, a Section 13 specialist, he still received the same kind of military funeral any member of the armed forces or HSAIS received upon dying in the line of duty. Emily never really had expected to see things from the perspective of the families belonging to the soldiers she hadn't been able to bring back home and frankly, this was a role reversal she had hoped to never to experience herself. As a soldier deployed in a high risk combat role, she had gone through loss often enough to know what it felt like, marines she had served with for years had died right next to her on Elysium and N7 operatives who had gone through the very same torment she had to earn that place had been claimed by seemingly random bullets moments after following her orders. All these experiences had left a mark on her and in the past, the gesture of putting a small patch of dirt onto a coffing had always been accompanied by a certain sense of failure and a sad acceptance of reality. Yet this time it was different, this time the act felt just as empty as the coffin below her feet.

The difference closure could make was really as significant as she had suspected it would be.

Walking away so the person next in line continued, Emily wasn't really sure when exactly she lost track of time.

"Lieutenant Commander Shepard?" a voice tore her form her thoughts as she found herself waiting for the funeral crowd to disperse itself. Turning on her heel to meet whoever it was that desired to talk to her, she was surprised to find Chancellor Goyle, a women who during their last encounter had honored her for her actions during the Skyllian Blitz, in front of her. She had seen her during the service and she knew that her dad had developed a rather odd friendship with her while working security on the Citadel but that still didn't explain what she wanted from her.

"Ma'am?" she asked, uncertain where this would go.

"Please, today it's just Anita," the woman replied. "I'd like to extend my condolences to you and your mother," she added.

Of course, condolences. She should've guessed that Goyle would want to extend those, this was after all still the funeral of her father.

No matter how often she told herself that, it still sounded strange.

"Thank you Ma'a-" Emily caught herself. "Anita," she corrected.

"I know you must have a lot of questions," the chancellor said, "and I am sorry that you won't get a lot of answers but," she hesitated for a moment, probably deciding whether or not she should continue, "I think you should know that your father's death wasn't in vain," Emily wondered if all the condolences letters she had written after Elysium had sounded as empty as that sentence. Thinking that Goyle had finished what she wanted to say, the marine turned N7 was about to walk away to keep herself from displaying anger at what was obviously meant as a sincere gesture only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulders. "But there is something else you should know about it," Goyle added before quickly letting go of here, probably sensing that she wasn't in the mood for talking or physical contact.

Was it that obvious that she was shutting herself out?

Probably.

"Section 13 informed me that Alec died fighting something," she began only to once more hesitate, although this time for a very different reason. Emily didn't consider herself an expert at reading people, far from it really, but if she had to put a name to what was stopping Goyle from talking right now, the closest she could manage would probably be fear, "terrible and they believe that the thing that killed him may soon be on our doorstep again. I know this is hardly the appropriate time for something like this," the woman explained before looking around herself as if to check if anyone was eavesdropping on them, if that was even possible given the security detail that had arrived with her, "but I know that Alec would want me to tell you what I can currently tell you."

"And what would that be?" on the list of strange conversations she had had after getting the news that her dad had died, this one was swiftly climbing to the top.

"That you're on the list of people who could be called upon to defend us from it," Goyle replied before slowly stepping backwards. Given what she had just said, Shepard didn't even bother to ask what that was supposed to mean. She knew that she wouldn't get an answer. "Again, I am so sorry for your lost."

"Thank you, Anita," she repeated.

Confusing conversation or not, it still felt empty.

* * *

 **Three Hours Later, Shepard Residence**

Shutting the door of the room she had spent most of her childhood after moving away from Arcturus in behind her, Emily briefly glanced at the ship models on top of her old wardrobe before dropping down on her old bed, comfortable with the increasing darkness setting in the room now that the day was coming to an end. She had built most of them with her dad and over time the hobby he had somewhat forced on her in the beginning had grown on her, a fact supported by the dozens of miniatures spread over her room which, like just about anything in her parents' house, now too reminded her of the fact that her dad was still dead. Coming into here might not have been such a good idea after all now that she thought about it. After yet again forcing down the grief trying to claw its way out of her heart, she sighed. If Goyle had spoken the truth, if it had meant something, she could accept that she had lost her father. Knowing that it had mattered was a kind of closure, right? If he had truly died to stop something terrible, it had been worth it.

But what if it hadn't meant something? Thinking back to the other portion of what the chancellor had told her, she now actually tried to make sense of it. If her dad had died fighting it but it could come back soon enough for her to face it again, had his death really made a difference or had he just been taken from her for no reason? That, in her mind, largely depended on what 'it' was even supposed to be. Goyle had told her much more than Emily had ever expected to hear from anyone but even then the woman had been incredibly vague. She had a basic grasp of what situations could cause Section 13 to be deployed and as such her mind began racing, trying to find the most likely answers to her questions.

Had he died during an undercover operation against the IFS? If yes, what had gone wrong? Had his cover been blown because of a mistake or because of a coincidence?

No, that was unlikely.

Had he been killed trying to prevent some kind of batarian attack? If yes, why would they attempt breaking the cease fire? Should she cut her leave short to be ready when the next attack came? Check in with her unit to see if they knew more?

Maybe she should-

No, Emily shook her head as she thought back to the conversation. Neither of these things would trigger the kind of reaction she had seen in Goyle, the batarians and the IFS were familiar threats and definitely not something that would scare a seasoned politician like the chancellor . It had to be something else, something new she could soon meet herself. What wasn't she thinking about?

Another sigh.

This was pointless, Emily knew exactly what she wasn't thinking about but instead of finally allowing herself to grief, something her mother had done once they had gotten back home, she was distracting herself with senseless thoughts about imaginary scenarios, avoiding the one thing she didn't want to think about in the process. Right now it didn't matter what Goyle had been trying to tell her. The only thing that mattered right now was her finally coming to terms with the reality she'd have to live in from now on, no matter how depressing that would be. Dancing around the issue would get her no where and if her parents had taught her one thing, it was that the best way to solve your problems was to confront them, no matter how uncomfortable that might be.

"Your mother's asleep, thought I'd check up on you," she heard from the now once more opened door. She hadn't even heard him enter. Had he been incredibly quiet or had she been too deep in her thoughts? A combination of both was the most likely answer. "Mind if I come in?"

"Knock yourself out," she muttered and not a moment later her uncle stepped inside.

"How are you holding up?" he asked as the ship miniatures captured his attention as well. Emily briefly considering to give him the answer she knew would get her some space but decided against it. She had just decided to face them so the only thing left to do for her was to actually go through with it. "Given the circumstances, I mean."

"Barely," she finally admitted to both herself and Redford as the latter inspected one of the models, intend on giving her all the time in the world to answer. "It's just like," she began only to realise that she really didn't know exactly how to put what she was feeling into words. "All of this feels so," once more she failed, instead sittung up on the bed and looking at her uncle.

"Surreal?" the older man offered while blowing the dust off from one of the miniaturized frigates she and her dad had constructed some years ago.

"Yes," Emily sighed as she watched the dust glint in what little light remained in the room, finally allowing the same grief she had been fighting at every turn to surface. As expected, it was both crushing and reliving at the same time. "

"Yeah, I get that. One moment he's still there and the next-"

"He isn't," she finished. "And even though you know exactly what's going on, you still ask yourself where he went and think that he'll be back any moment now," she added. "Growing up, I never thought about my dad not coming back, you know? I was always sure that I'll see him again, no matter where he went or how long he was gone, I knew he'd come home eventually and when he finally did, I just acted like he hadn't even been in danger."

"I remember that," the man replied before sitting down next to her. "Honestly, I felt the exact same."

"You did?"

"I worked with Alec for the better part of three decades and I always figured that I'd buy it before him," Grant shrugged before dropping back onto the bed as well, his considerably heavier weight causing it to squeak. "and in those years I don't recall a time when we went out and I thought he wasn't gonna make it back in one piece."

"Really? What about his last mission?" she blurted out the first question entering her mind. "Did you feel like that right until it happened?" Only now did she realise that it probably hadn't been the most sensitive thing to ask. Her uncle and her dad had been like brothers and this was probably just as hard or maybe even harder on him than it was on her. The only real difference between their situations was that he somehow managed to be a far more decent person than her right about now. "Sor-"

"Don't be," he cut her off. "I wasn't there, so no," he added a few moments later. "Listen, I can't begin to imagine how hard this is on you and your mother, not knowing how it happened. So whatever it is that you need, just say the word."

"Do you know?"

"Hmm?"

"Know how it happened," she elaborated.

The look he gave her told her what she already suspected.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"No, I get it, you can't talk about it," she sighed before feeling the previous anger make itself known again. This time it was accompanied by a question that had probably been lingering in her mind for quite some time now. "What I don't get is why you'd do something like that to yourself or your family."

"What do you mean?" her uncle asked from his position on the slightly too small bed, evidently confused.

"Everything," she explained without actually explaining anything. "Section 13, the secrecy, it just seems so," she hesitated, unsure of what it actually was that she was trying to say. "No one, not even me, will ever know what my dad did for us. Sure, some people are going to keep telling me that his death mattered, that it all meant something, but I'll never really know if it did, you know? From here on out, I'll always have this voice in the back of my head that's telling me that it didn't and that people are lying to me so I feel better about him being gone."

"I would never lie to you, Emily," did he sound hurt? She didn't mean to hurt him.

"I wasn't talking about you," she swiftly replied and soon enough a silence began to settle in the room, neither the marine nor her uncle brave enough to speak up for the time being. Devoid of anything else occupying her mind, Emily Shepard rose from her bed and walked over to the models, picking up a miniscule dreadnought, the same kind of vessel her mother would be in the process of commanding right about now if she hadn't taken personal leave to attend her husband's funeral, who was just another HSAIS agent to most people outside of her direct family and a completely average person to everyone who had ever walked past him on the street. It seemed strange to her that someone could change the lives of so many people without anyone ever knowing. While she hadn't signed up for the recognition, she had always taken pride in the fact that she committed herself to a greater good. Her dad hadn't even been able to take pride in what he did, a thousand regulations kept him from disclosing even the smallest detail of his job.

How had he done it?

"It's not a good life, if you break it down. You live in the dark, you fight in the dark, you prepare yourself to die in the dark and somewhere along the way you just get used to it being this way and accept that the light's not yours to have," Grant finally spoke up while looking at the ceiling, appearing almost disconnected for a moment. "But the good and the light in Alec's life never came from his work, it came from you and your mother." She remained silent at that. "For the longest time, Alec didn't think he'd ever settle down. He always told me that family life and retirement wasn't for him, that he'd bore himself to death," the man chuckled. "But all of that changed when he met your mother and your mother had you. Two days changed his entire outlook on life. They gave him a reason to make sure he never lost himself in the dark."

"I thought you said he taught you to be on the right side of things?" she recalled his speech and the contradiction to it he had just revealed. "How does that fit into the picture?"

"No matter how good of a person you are, if you do this long enough, the line gets blurry," her uncle explained. "But after you were born, your dad always saw clearly. He might've almost missed your first day, but it changed him, gave him the best reason to stay himself no matter what happened."

"Wait a minute," she looked back to him, surprised that this was the thing she focused on at a time like this. The grieving human mind truly was a strange thing. "He almost missed what?"

"Seriously?" the man asked as he lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Alec never told you that he almost missed your birth?"

"Apparently not," she replied, raising an eyebrow and being amused at her uncle's confused face. It was a strange way to cope but since it made her feel better, she'd take a little humor.

"Well in that case," the man said while sitting up, his tone distinctively more upbeat than before. "You better kick back because that one's a really, really long story."

* * *

 **Two Hours Later, Benning** **, Park Cemetery**

"I'll just be a moment, alright?" he said before letting go of his wife's hand.

"Take all the time you need," she assured him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Normally they should've already been back in their hotel but after making sure that things had been in order in the Shepard residence, the final resting spot of Alec had called him through the dark of the night, demanding his presence and like an obedient soldier, he had answered its call. Stepping over the green lawn and walking through the warm summer night, he briefly glanced up to the white moon offering him what little light he needed to make his journey towards the fresh, only temporarily marked grave.

"They gave you a good spot," he observed as he stuffed his hands into the pocket and glanced up towards the tip of the tree under which his partner's badge would spent the better half of an eternity resting. As the words of his niece came back to him, he began to think. So this what was in store for him when it happened, a small grave somewhere in the countryside of his home planet and no one being any wiser of the sacrifices he and his peers had made for the sake of people who didn't even know they existed. It was only fair, really. A life spent fighting in the dark was rewarded with anonymity in death. If they wanted recognition, they would've chosen a different path. He could live with them not knowing and so could the rest of Section 13. Just like the engraving of the badge buried underneath him read, they were one thing and one thing only. They were the watchers, the silent vigil of the HSA that stood guard no matter the time and circumstance. For them, anonymity was the biggest reward they could ask for. If no one else knew what they had done for them, it meant that they had succeeded at keeping them out of harm's way.

"Bit shady but I guess that's only fitting for people like us," he chuckled. Usually Redford wasn't one to laugh at his own jokes but given the day he had endured up to now, he'd allow himself to do it just this once. "At least you're not gonna get soaked when it rains," he figured before returning his attention to the small marker currently waiting to be replaced with a more permanent headstone. "I know you hate speeches, so I kept mine nice and short, hope it was somewhat bearable."

He realised that he was talking to no one but right about now, he didn't care that his partner's body was probably a smudge somewhere on Akuze's surface.

"I still remember the day we met and god damn did I hate your guts back then. Always thought you were full of shit," it had only been logical back then, the two of them had been as different as night and day. Unlike Redford, Shepard had already been a part of HSAIS by the time both of them had begun their training and very much unlike Redford, Shepard had always managed to be idealistic about what they did, even during the Fringe Wars that had shaped their friendship. No matter what side of humanity they saw, be it the destruction of Illyria at the hands of Andrej Kamarov or the Siege of Horizon, he didn't recall a time where Shepard had ever paused to question if what they did really mattered. To his partner the answer had always been obvious.

"I wasn't there when you needed me most and I'll always be sorry for that," Redford muttered, finding his voice to be uncharacteristically quiet, "and I know that it's not true but I still feel like I let you down," he glanced at the engraved name visible in the moon light, tracing the letters with his eyes and noticing that they had at least given the correct date to Alec's family. "When these things really show up," he placed a hand on the marker, the cold feeling of the metal sending a small chill through his hand, "I'll make sure that they get what's coming for them. No matter how much they try to fight it, no matter how many Akuzes they pull on us, when this is over, this will have meant something."

He knew that a promise to a dead man's empty grave was probably pretty meaningless but he would live up to it, even if it was the last thing he ever did. It still seemed unreal that he was the one making these promises and not the other way around. Redford had always pictured that Alec would be the one to bury him and swear vengeance on his killers. Why was it that people he was certain would outlive him by decades kept dying before him? First Grissom, then the last director and now Alec. At this point, he probably should start assuming that his enemies would outlive him and see what the universe did with it. If the trend continued, doing that would save him a lot of time but if his luck also held true, it would cost him his job somewhere down the line. Maybe he should only start doing that when he had a solid retirement plan.

Another smile at his own joke.

He couldn't allow this to become a habit.

Shaking his head exactly once to clear his mind, Redford returned his attention to reality.

"Never thought I'd be the one to say this, mate, but I guess there's no such thing as a guarantee with what we do after all," he began before pulling his hand away from the marker and once more stuffing it in his suit's pockets, turning his head upwards to look at the stars in the process. The view really put things into perspective. While he had no idea what he was actually looking, he'd liked to think that he could see a good portion of the HSA from here. It really put things into perspective, one person fighting for all of that simply because they believed that it was the right thing to do. "I'll see you on the other side," he assured his partner's grave before glancing back at Tela. "Just don't be pissed if I take my sweet time getting there."

* * *

 **2155 CE, Citadel, Embassy Area**

"So to summarize, you want to kidnap a quarian scientist?" the human repeated the core message of Saren's briefing.

"Kidnap is such a harsh word, I just want to have a chat with him," the turian corrected with a shrug.

"A chat about the geth," his friend folded his hands and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, a chat about the geth."

"And this isn't a council operation but a private gig, correct?"

"Correct."

"Saren," Anderson sighed while running a hand through his short, dark hair. "I know something's off. Save us both the time and just tell me what's been going on with you."

This was the problem with secrets, the longer one kept them, the harder it became to share them. It wasn't the first time that the human Spectre had asked a question like this, Saren was aware that Anderson knew him good enough to notice that his calm exterior hid an inner turmoil caused by his and Harper's talk and the actions he had chosen to take because of it. The turian knew that he had to do something to give them an edge but the fact that he'd betray his brother's trust in the process wouldn't just vanish because of it. But it wasn't just his personal dilemma that Anderson was sensing, it was also the reason behind it that was starting to eat away at Saren. No matter how much faith he had in his brother, the talk with Harper had planted one more certainty in the turian's mind.

At the rate they were going, they wouldn't win and from here on out it was up to him to change that, even if the odds of him being successful were only marginally higher than those of his brother being victorious.

"You're right, something's going on," he finally spoke as another certainty became apparent. If he wanted to give them a fighing chance, he'd needed help and besides his brother and his old unit, Anderson was the one person he trusted to be able to extend that help to him. "And unless we get that quarian to talk to us, we won't be able to stop it."

They should've had this talk a long time ago.

* * *

 _Codex: The Migrant Fleet_

 _Formed in the closing hours of the Geth War, the Migrant Fleet, the single biggest collection of space ships in the known galaxy, became the home of the survivors of the quarian species after their exodus from Rannoch and, following their expulsion from the ranks of the Citadel Council's associates, has since roamed the galaxy, it's only goal being to survive in a galaxy no longer willing to deal with them. The fifty thousand ships of the armada are divided between the Patrol Fleet, the Heavy Fleet, the Civilian Fleet and the Special Projects Division and serve as the homes of the roughly seven teen million quarians living under the rule Admiralty Board, a government operating under martial law but acknowledging and working with the remnants of the quarian civilian government, the Conclave._

 _Diplomatic ties between the Migrant Fleet and the rest of the galaxy are sparse, either the stigma the creation of the geth brought upon the quarians or the unwillingness to tolerate ruthless quarian strip mining operations within their territory leading Council forces to 'discourage' the Patrol Fleet from venturing too deep into their sphere of influence, using different methods, for example intimidation or bribery, and varying degrees of offensive action, ranging from simple blocking maneuvers to disabling engine systems and firing warning shots at the weaker ships of the flotilla, to prevent the main body of the fleet from traveling through their space. Though highly controversial with most humanitarian organisations, the practice is mostly rooted in the Migrant Fleet's habit of 'overstaying their welcome' by causing permanent economic and ecological damage to the worlds they mine and attracting pirates, raiders and in rare instances slavers to the systems they journey through._

 _While out of touch with the major players of the galaxy, the Migrant Fleet, much like the HSA maintains close ties to a series of independent colonies, the tradition of the Pilgrimage, the act of young quarians leaving their home ships in the hopes of bringing something useful back to the fleet in order to prove their worth as adults, helping them to establish good relations with both large corporate worlds looking to make a profit and smaller, fiercely anti-council colonies seeking an alliance with the largest, non-batarian entity existing outside of the Citadel Council._

 _It should be noted that, even though popular with a sizeable portion of non-council worlds, there also exists a number of independent worlds weary of the militant captains of the Heavy Fleet, pointing to past instances of the fleet strong arming them into giving up supplies or mining rights. As such, the administrations of these planets frequently pay mercenaries to keep quarian scouting and scavenging parties away from their sovereign space and at times have resorted to ordering outright offensive action against the civilian parts of the quarian fleet in hopes of permanently removing what they consider to be a thorn in their side._

* * *

 **A/N:** **So... yeah... chapter 42 took me three weeks to get done... that happened. Originally I wanted this out on friday ( I was kind of busy up to last week, social life, trips and application stuff taking up a lot of my time) but somehow it ended up on sunday (I blame a friend's birthday and Stellaris for that one, sorry mates.)**

 **Now... this chapter is bascially all talk and setup jumping over several setpieces, which is kind of the complete opposite to the last one which was basically the largest setpiece the story ever had. But it also deals with the fallout of the last chapter, giving our protagonist Shepard the other half to the dynamic she's gonna have with the lone survivor background.**

 **It also gives Redford, who's narrative role I still really haven't 100% defined (he's not a protagonist or on the level of the backgrounds but he's definitely a main character) the drive that will explain his role from here on out (he is gonna stick around for the plot of the games which is almost upon us, I like him far too much to just sideline him from here on out and I already planned his entire story arc so yeah, he's gonna stick)**

 **Aaand!...**

 **It also shows why I delayed Akuze this much and why I said it would be the kick off to what happens in SV's version of the actual Mass Effect plot. Akuze** **sends Saren off to begin his role in the things to come and it also gives Anderson the reason to be where he will be once ME 1 begins ( which should be Chapter 45, to which I probably won't be getting before 2018 since i'm going on yet another trip (this one's all pleasure) at the end of next week.) I know this all sounds vague and there's probably gonna be alot of speculation what's gonna happen with the two now that I said it but you're just gonna have to wait and see.**

 **So, for a chapter that I delayed this much, it's probably one of the most significant ones up to date. Even if not a single gun is fired or a single guy is punched. (yes, I am aware that I have a lot of detailed action for what's bascially turning into an e-book ;) )**

 **Now to the codex (actually wrote this one down so I wouldn't forget it)**

 **Before anyone crucifies me, I took the fact that quarians aren't allt hat nice to a lot of planets fromt he Mass Effect comic prequel of Andromeda. Those guys aren't exactly the green party if you catch my drift. Furthermore I was also sick of every story making the quarians completely innocent angles abused by the galaxy. Read that shit more than enough. Not on my watch, you hear me? In Semper Vigilo NO SPECIES is without sin.**

 **Oh, btw, Semper Vigilo turned one year a few weeks ago. That's.. really humbling. Never thought we'd get to the point where we're at right now with this many people (full disclosure, never thought I'd crack 100 follows.)**

 **Speaking of follows.**

 **For the record, we're at 337 reviews, 574 favorites and 679 follows.**

 **Review and let me know what you think**

 **Also before I forget it, on the offchance that I don't get another chapter out before the day rolls around, I wish every last one of you happy and peaceful holidays.**

 **See you around next time.**


	43. The Word That Ends The World

**Chapter 43.** **The Word That Ends The World**

* * *

 **2155 CE, Citadel, Spectre Office**

"Are you going to say something?" he asked while closing his omni-tool. Anderson had remained completely silent for nearly two minutes by now, his expression unaltered in spite of everything he had just shown to him. While he knew that it wasn't the case, a part of Saren briefly wondered if he had just broken the other Spectre by unveiling every little detail years of investigation had uncovered in less than five minutes.

"You could've told me," the human finally said while shaking his head. "No, you should've told me," Anderson corrected himself while something akin to anger became visible on his face."People need to know what's coming for them."

"They can't," this was exactly what he suspected would happen. Anderson was a good Spectre and an even better soldier but he had never been entirely able to do the one thing that made a Spectre excellent, turn off his morale compass when necessary. "Not yet," the turian explained. "Not before we know what we're up against."

"Saren, if this is as bad as you say," the human gave him a look to which the turian only replied with a firm nod, "then we need to tell everyone and mobilize everything we got, not chase after some quarian just because he might be able to give you a shot at chatting up the geth."

"Mobilize what exactly? An army that doesn't know who or what it's fighting? What kind of plan is that?" he retorted and much to his surprise, Anderson didn't directly have a reply at the ready. "How are we supposed to win like that?" he added darkly, a feeling he had become estranged to over the course of his life resurfacing in the process. It was the emotion capable of bringing out both the best and worst in people, the emotion capable of making or breaking a person in a single moment, the one emotion he had never allowed himself to get the better of him up to now.

Fear.

"I know that you feel like telling people is the right thing to do and if you must, I won't stop you, David," he spoke, "but still, please listen to me. This," he added while bringing up the coordinates Harper had sent him to locate the quarian, the orange glow reflecting of the white surface of his armor, "might be the last chance we have to even the odds, the last chance to save the galaxy," his eyes met Anderson's,"and if we throw it away for the sake of doing what's morally right, there won't be a galaxy left to save when we're done," the turian paused briefly, trying to make sense of his friend's expression but coming up empty handed. He had known the man for years but he had never seen him like this and, for a brief moment, he asked himself if he had misjudged his friend, if going to him had been a mistake and if it would destroy everything he, his brother and the others had worked for all those years.

"I need to know if you're with me," he finally asked and when he was done, the longest couple of seconds in his life began. Watching Anderson turn on his heel and walk away shattered something within him, at least until he realised where the human was going. Coming to a stop not five steps to his left, far away from the entrance he had expected him to use, the human instead opened a crate Saren hadn't even seen when they had first entered the office. As Anderson reached inside and pulled out a familiar looking rifle, the modified Phaeston the turian Spectre had gifted to him after his Spectre induction, Saren's mandibles clicked into a smile.

"Of course I am," Anderson nodded, the unknown expression on his face replaced by that of grim determination personified. "But you have to promise me something, Saren."

"Anything."

"Don't ever keep something like this from me ever again, alright?" the former N7 said before attaching the Phaeston to the back of his armor.

"Alright."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean that you have to carry the weight of the world by yourself. In the long run, that shit isn't healthy," he went on while nodding towards the door. "Alright, enough heart to heart. Let's catch ourselves a geth."

"We're not going to catch a geth, we're goi-"

"-to talk to a quarian, I know. Believe it or not, occasionally I do listen to your briefings," the human shrugged on his way out of the Spectre office. "But don't you agree, that talking to a quarian doesn't sound nearly as impressive as catching a geth?" Anderson added with a brief laugh.

"Can't argue with that," the turian chuckled before they made their way to the docking bay.

He should've done this earlier.

* * *

 **One Week Later, Attican Traverse,** **Lestral**

Their plan had been simple, get to the coordinates, ask the right kind of questions, find the quarians, ask them right kind of questions and figure out how they could help him and Anderson. The first step had worked like a charm, mostly because Harper had gotten them a very fast ride to the coordinates, ensuring that they arrived in time to intercept the quarian scouting party. Once they had set foot on the planet, which only real significance for the region was the fact that it supplied one of the larger fuel depots of the region, all they had to do was hunker down and wait for their target to arrive.

Simple enough.

Or so it had seemed.

"You just had to ask him, didn't you?" the turian muttered as a mass accelerator punctured the thin metal next to his head, a miniscule round tearing through the air and embedding itself in the wall opposite to him.

"He looked like he might know," the human replied after dropping back into cover, the screaming of a pirate indicating that he had hit his target.

If Saren had to pinpoint the exact moment that had led to him and Anderson getting into a rather average gunfight with a band of pirates, it probably would've been the second step of their plan.

"The only thing I wanted to know was if they knew when they'd show up. How was I supposed to know they'd start shooting at us?" Anderson called in return as Saren rose from behind the counter and managed to sent a single Carnifex shot down range before once more being forced back into cover, a hail of gunfire draining his kinetic barriers. It was probably for the best that his shot had missed, even though they were Spectres and above the law, the last thing they needed were local authorities getting involved. While far less attentive than the likes of C-SEC, he suspected that the security forces of the colony would be drawn to them sooner than later. Explaining a few injured pirates was far easier than explaining a bunch of dead ones. "What's their deal anyway?" the human added.

"They think we're competition," he explained while biotically throwing a turian, who had turned to a life of crime instead of staying in council space, through the window of the bar they were currently destroying, the nasty sound of glass shattering almost immediately being followed by the turian climbing back inside, insisting on finshing the fight he had started. "Pirates don't like competition."

From a certain point of view, it was a good thing that they were currently fighting this group, it meant that they were on the right track. While the armada wasn't exactly the first choice of slavers, pirates and raiders followed the Migrant Fleet like a hungry predator followed it's prey, waiting for a chance to strike at a lone ship that had parted waits with the rest of the fleet and hopefully getting their hands on some valuable tech, or sometimes the ship itself, in the process. Where there were pirates, there usually were quarians.

"Well and I don't like being shot at," the human retorted before yet another burst of his modified rifle roared through the luckily mostly empty bar. As strange as it sounded, Saren was really glad that just about every innocent civilian in this region was used to spontaneous violence erupting in the middle of their day. It meant that they knew how to get out of the way quickly when the bullets started flying and it made their job a lot less messy.

"Than you probably picked the wrong profession," he called in between his own shots. "Last time I checked, getting shot at is part of our job descript-," his remark was cut short when a round, likely a phasic one, managed to pass through his barriers and bounce off of his armor, shaving a portion of the white top layer off his shoulder and revealing the dark metal below it. Briefly glancing at the spot and being thankful for the fact that just about nothing was as resilient as Blackwatch armor, Saren paused for a moment. Although their training and equipment was far superior to anything the pirates could muster, they were gambling with their lives by trying to keep the damage to a minimum. Even if his intention was still to end this with as little bloodshed as possible, the turian now realised that he had to end this right now. If they kept going at the pace they were currently at, their approach would get them killed and getting killed wasn't a step of his plan.

"Spirits, I've had about enough of this," he cursed before rising from his cover and summoning his biotic powers. Pushing his hands forward as soon as he felt the energy around him reach its climax, Saren unleashed a wave of rapidly shifting mass effect fields onto their enemies, its force throwing them away from the two Spectres and more importantly out of their cover. As he was about to dispatch the first of the now exposed pirates to give the others an example as to what happened to those that got into his way, the turian realised that his display of power had managed to achieve more than what he had hoped for. Instead of keeping up the pressure, as he had expected them to, the pirates decided to cut their losses and make a run for it, stumbling out of the bar and into the rain outside.

This had gone better than expected.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?" Anderson asked, himself lacking biotic abilities. "Would've saved us a lot of time."

"I wanted to exhaust," he paused as he looked at the now completely destroyed bar, "less destructive options first," His past investigations had taught him a thing or two about the region and besides outright murder, the surest way to draw someone's attention in this part of the Attican Traverse was to damage the wrong person's property. "We should get out of here, find the quarians," he said.

"Before they do?" Anderson replied after nodding towards the direction the pirates had fled into.

"They won't kill the quarians but they might scare them off," Saren explained while stepping over a broken chair, out of the bar and into the rain that seemed to be a constant occurrence in this part of Lestral, paying almost no mind to the batarian who had already returned to the bar to finish his drink that had somehow survived the onslaught. Things like these were simply part of the day for people living on independent colonies at the absolute frontier of Citadel space. Devoid of any formal security beyond whatever colonial militias or corporate security forces the worlds mustered, planets like this one were even more lawless and dangerous than the worst parts of the Terminus Systems. "We should follow them, see if they already found the quarians," the turian reasoned while tracking the distant shapes of several figures running away from the bar.

"I've got a better idea," his friend replied not a moment later before collapsing his rifle and once more stashing it on the back of his armor. "Why don't we follow him?" he suggested as Saren looked the way he was pointing, almost instantly spotting the hooded, environmental suit wearing figure he was referring to. There, standing underneath the shielding roof of one of the prefabs that made up the majority of this mining settlement, was a quarian, the tainted glass of his mask looking directly at them, his arms folded in front of his chest in a way that allowed everyone to see the heavy pistol he was carrying just below the partially soaked cloak hanging from his shoulders.

"The last time you asked for directions, people started shooting at us," Saren reminded him.

"The last time I asked for directions, it wasn't a quarian," the human pointed out while making his way across the street, leaving visible foot prints in the mud below his boots. Although Saren knew that this town solely existed to support the large mining site already visible in the distance, he still asked himself who'd live in a place like this. They had seen the planet on their approach from orbit, oceans, forests, mountains and plains covered it's vast, unclaimed surface and in his opinion, all of them where better places to settle than the swamp he was currently in. Whatever it was that they were pulling from the ground at the mining site was obviously worth it.

"Chances are he's not a part of the group we're looking for. For all we know he's a pilgrim," the longer serving Spectre countered. While a lot of the adolescent quarians traveled through places more welcoming than this one, he knew that several of the more militarized clans that had grown influential within the Migrant Fleet's armed service expected their children to venture into the rougher parts of the galaxy, hoping to 'forge' them for the struggles ahead of them and have them understand with what kind of people they might have to deal with later down the line. The Council might've liked to ignore it but the fact remained that the Migrant Fleet was a major player outside of its sphere of influence and as such, it was always useful for future leaders to know just how the world they lived in worked.

"To me it looks like he's wearing heavy duty armor," Anderson responded, causing Saren to take a second, much closer look at the pieces of the quarian's suit he could see and sure enough, there, just below the cloak, he could make out the heavy armor plates the quarian military liked to add to the already resilient suits they handed out to their soldiers to reduce the chance of them dying through the effects of a suit rupture, the single worst thing that could happen to any quarian now that their immune systems were basically non-existent. Besides their lack of numbers, their fragile biology was the sole other reason why the Migrant Fleet's marines preferred more indirect ways of achieving their goals. Armor, weaponry, training and motivation all meant nothing if a shot that turians, batarians or humans could just walk off could lead to a potentially deadly bacterial infection that would put them out of the fight for months at a time. For that very reason quarians, even more so than anyone else, liked to avoid getting shot at. "When was the last time you saw a pilgrim with heavy duty armor?"

"Out here, actually," he replied dryly. It wasn't exactly as much of an exception as Anderson believed it to be.

"Well, either way there's only one way to know," Anderson spoke with a shrug. "Where's the harm in asking?"

"That sounds suspiciously like what you said before the pirates tried to kill us," Saren recalled again, causing Anderson to throw an annoyed glare towards him. "But sure, go ahead. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"Hey, you!" Anderson called without ever acknowledging his concerns but the quarian remained silent and unmoving, the reflection of the two approaching Spectres' clearly visible on his dark-purple mask and only the two faintly glowing orbs behind it indicating that there was someone alive beneath the suit. This was what unnerved Saren about the quarians, one could never tell what they were up to. Exclusion from most of the galaxy meant that just about no one that wasn't a quarian could understand their body language and unless they were crazy or full of medication, watching their faces for some hint as to what they were thinking wasn't an option. "Got a minute?"

"That depends," the stranger replied in an especially thick version of the unique accent all quarians he had met seemed to share. Now that he thought about it, it really wasn't surprising that they all spoke the same. Three hundred years of living onboard tightly packed space ships was probably one of the best ways to force a species into adopting a singular culture consisting of elements of whatever groups had managed to survive the Geth War.

"On what?" the quarian replied, his arms still folded. For someone being approached by two heavily armed and heavily armored people who had just been involved in a fire fight, he was surprisingly calm. That either meant that Anderson was right or that this particular pilgrim had been here long enough to get used to everday life, which wasn't even that much of a stretch given that some pilgrimages took years to complete, especially in these parts of the galaxy. After all, it was hard to find something useful to bring back to the fleet if there was hardly anything around to begin with.

"On who's asking."

"Just two travelers," Saren offered. "We're looking for one of your people."

"To do what exactly?" the quarian replied, still entirely at ease.

"To ask questions."

"You don't look like the kind of people who ask questions," the stranger spoke dryly. "At least not the kind of questions you walk away from," he added while nodding his head towards the bar they had just come from.

"We're looking for Kenn'Mal," Anderson said in turn.

"Why?"

"As I said we just want to tal-"

"Cut the crap," the quarian interrupted him. "Spectres never just want to talk," he countered and upon seeing the hint of surprise on Anderson's face, let out a small chuckle before nodding towards Saren, "Didn't think I'd recognize the 'Hero of the Citadel?" he asked. "Please. Turians might all look the same to me, but anyone with two eyes and access to the extranet knows what Saren Arterius looks like." That was the problem with Spectres being public personas. No matter where he went, someone always recognized him. It might've helped him with intimidating people in the past, after all he had built quite the reputation over his career, but in cases like this, cases where he wanted to stay anonymous, it did the polar opposite. "Now what do two Spectres want from my captain?" the stranger, now revealed to be some kind of forward observer of the scouting party, demanded, unfolding his arms and letting his hands dangle close to his own weapon. It wasn't exactly a subtle threat. "The answer better be good," he added, still completely unimpressed with the people in front of him, which was a rather odd attitude to have given that he knew who they were. Either this quarian was very confident or very stupid. Those were the only two reasons he'd even consider fighting two Spectres.

"His help," Saren explained after a moment of consideration.

"With what?"

"We know that you're tracking the geth and we need your captain to tell us everything he knows about what they're doing in the Traverse," the turian replied and unless he was mistaken, the small glowing orbs behind the mask widened ever so slightly. The quarian clearly hadn't expected him to say that. Right about now the stranger was probably asking himself how the Spectre had known about the assignment of his ship, which was a justified question given how tight-lipped the Migrant Fleet was about operations like this due to groups like the one he and Anderson had just run into. It was rare for people outside of the fleet to come this close to things the quarians wanted to keep a secret.

"How did you-" the quarian was about to ask before shaking his head. "We're not doing this here," he interrupted himself while his head turned towards a couple of rather shady looking town inhabitants that had begun to listen in on their conversation with particular interest. It wasn't exactly a secret that quarian ships, as old as some of them might've been, were filled with tech that could produce a small fortune if sold to the right people and both the Spectres and the quarian scout could tell that people were starting to smell that fortune right about now. "Follow me," he instructed before quickly vanishing behind the prefab, not even turning back to check if they were actually doing what he had told them to do.

"That was easy," the turian muttered. "Almost too easy."

"Trap or not, we should get going right now," Anderson replied as he subtly nodded towards another group of people looking far more dangerous than the band of unorganized pirates they had just taken care of. Instead of carrying outdated weapons and mismatched pieces of damaged armor, the mixture of turians, humans and salarians was clad in modern body armor and evidently had access to a rather advanced armory. If he had to take a guess, these people were mercenaries hired by a company or a colony to keep the Migrant Fleet out of their system and away from their resources. It wasn't exactly rare for groups like this one to track quarian scouts and 'take care' of them before they could report their findings back to the fleet itself. After all the strategy had proven itself in the past, nothing was as sure to keep the quarians away form a place as their scouts never returning from it.

They could become a problem really soon.

"Yes we should," Saren nodded before they followed the quarian behind the building and found him standing next to an old all-terrain vehicle, its large wheels and green hull covered in a thin layer of brown dirt which was slowly being washed away by the warm drizzle falling from the sky above them. The stranger briefly looked around himself before waving his omni-tool at the door of the vehicle, the faint sound of its locks opening themselves almost immediately being followed by him jumping into the driver's seat and removing a panel beneath the steering wheel.

"What are you waiting for? Get in," he called just before the engine of the vehicle turned on and roared through the backend of the town.

"Stop the thieves!" a voice echoed from behind them.

"I don't have all day," the quarian added as the first gunshot hit the dirt just between Saren and Anderson. Sharing a look, the two Spectres too climbed into what was definitely not the quarian's all terrain vehicle and not a moment later, began to race off into the swamp, leaving behind a very angry and very dangerous town.

It seemed that this day was getting worse every time Anderson decided to ask a stranger a question.

"Did you really have to steal this thing?" Anderson complained as the quarian simply kept his foot on the gas, pushing the vehicle to its absolute limit and paying no further mind to the worrying sounds its engine was starting to make the longer he put this kind of strain on it. In a way it was already a miracle that this thing was driving as quickly as it was, given the muddy terrain below them. At least they had stolen a vehicle that lived up to its name.

"Yes."

"Why not call your captain or use what got you here in the first place? You just pissed off half the town just to steal this thing," the human Spectre groaned as a brief look behind them allowed Saren to see several military-grade transports, which were much more suited for traversing the swamp than their own, steadily catching up to them. "Why?"

"Because I didn't plan on having passengers," the quarian replied dryly, glancing at them through the rearview mirror and paying no mind to their pursuers. "Besides, the guy who owned this thing didn't need it as much as we did. Otherwise he would've invested in a better lock," he added before pulling a small, brown box from his belt, pressing a button at its side and placing it in front of the steering wheel, the projection of another quarian appearing from it. "Zenn, I'm on my way back but I've got some company."

"We can tell," a female quarian voice replied momentarily, "they are hard to miss. Just lure them into the deadzone, the mines should take care of them."

Wait a minute.

Mines?

"Not talking about the boats behind me, Zenn. I've got two Spectres with me. They want to talk to the captain."

"Keelah, why would you bring Spectres with you? What were you thinking, Reegar?"

"They know about our mission, Zenn. I had to do something."

A short pause.

"Understood. Bring them in. I'll inform the captain"

"That was the plan," the quarian, apparently named Reegar, sighed while pressing another button on the brown device. "Alright, you better hold onto something," he said as the box projected a grid across the windshield of the car, which now acted much like the HUD of his helmet would, and highlighting a pathway through a field of red dots, which, now that he thought about it, were probably the aforementioned mines.

In a way he had to give the quarians credit, hiding the explosives below the muddy swamp waters to cover their landing site was a smart move. They were almost impossible to see and if the first explosion that had just sounded to their left was anything to go by, they were also powerful enough to take care of anyone trying to get to close to their ship. But that was where the credit ended because as solid of a tactical decision as these mines were, Saren couldn't help but ask himself what happened to the people who unknowingly got too close to their ship, those who traveled through these swamps without having any harmful intentions in mind. He had seen the food that was served in the town they had just left and just about all of it was caught by fishers traveling through these swamps. Some of them were bound to be caught in this 'deadzone' sooner or later. These weren't the same kind of mines the Hierarchy used, these mines couldn't distinguish between their targets, they weren't 'smart'. If they were, there would've been no need for the quarian to dodge them as closely as he was currently doing.

"Jesus!" Anderson exclaimed with a strange mixture of worry and excitement as one of the boats blew up right next to them, shrapnel of the explosion embedding itself in the hull of their own vehicle, one of the sharp metal shards having been stopped just shy of penetrating the human's legs, only luck keeping him from suffering a similar fate to the now dead mercenaries that had tried to stop their all-terrain vehicle.

"Just one more right behind us," Reegar muttered to himself as Saren realised that their paths would soon cross with one of the red points they had avoided up to now. The Spectre realised what their driver was doing but that didn't mean that he liked it. Bracing himself for the inevitable last second turn, the turian wondered why he always got into life-threatening car chases the moment he got into the same vehicle as Anderson and why his friend never seemed to be nearly as bothered by them as Saren himself. Somehow, he suspected that Anderson enjoyed these moments far more than he should. "Come on you Bosh'tet, just a little bit closer," the quarian whispered just before jerking the steering wheel as far to the right as he possibly could, causing their ride to break away to the side at the last possible moment, the force of the following explosion nearly throwing him, Anderson and Reegar out of their seats and into the swamp.

"Spirits," Saren groaned as the vehicle came to a stop a few moments later, the sudden stop causing a wave of muddy swamp water to wash over them from behind. "Please tell me it's over," he added while Reegar and Anderson already climbed out of the all-terrain vehicle.

"Yes, we're here," the quarian said just before Saren spotted a dark shape in between the trees in front of them. Groaning again as he got up, mostly because of the unpleasant sensation of his spine popping back into place, the turian too climbed out of the truck and dropped into the ankle-deep swamp below him, thankful for the fact that his armor was completely sealed. The last thing he needed now were wet feet."Come on, the captain is already waiting," Reegar added before moving a few of the tree branches out of the way to open up a path. "Welcome to our home base." Saren had expected a lot of things upon hearing those words but this wasn't one of them. Built into the muddy soil right next to what looked like a repurposed salarian corvette, he found a piece of home far away from Council Space.

"This is a turian installation," he said as he eyed the several story tall building and the large dish attached to its roof, the faint memory of a history lesson surfacing.

"A forward observatory to be precise," Reegar injected, giving him the much needed reminder. "Your people built hundreds of them shortly after the Geth War, waiting for the big invasion tthat never came," the hostile undertone in the accented voice already told Saren what would come next."It's a funny story, really. You turians were so worried about the geth coming from beyond the Veil to destroy the Council that you didn't even spare a second thought to your fellow dextros trying to fight off starvation. You had the biggest emergency stockpiles in the galaxy and you didn't even open one of them for us. Some peacekeepers you are, watching hundreds of thousands die without even blinking an eye," the quarian muttered while turning to Anderson, "If I were you, I wouldn't put too much faith in the oh-so glorious turians. Trust me, when it comes down to it, they'll let you down the moment the Council tells them to."

Something about the quarian's speech had stung and he knew exactly what it was, the point he had. The Geth War hadn't been the proudest hour of his people, even if they had done exactly what was expected of them, following orders. While they liked not to think about it, every turian in one way or another knew that the Hierarchy could've ended the Geth War and by extension the quarian genocide if they had intervened the moment it had become evident that the quarians' creations were in open rebellion and that the sporadic fighting that had broken out across quarian space wasn't a 'system malfunction' but rather a fullblown war between the quarian military and the geth, a number of which had already been modified for military use.

"Are you going to give us a history lesson or are you going to introduce us to your captain?" Anderson simply retorted.

"Can't teach the unwilling," Reegar shrugged. "Right this way," he waved his hand towards the large, halfway opened blast door of the observatory. "I'm back, Zenn" the quarian called upon entering and not a moment later, Saren and Anderson found at least a dozen guns pointed at them from a walkway over their heads, "Oh, yes," Reegar added. "This is the point where I ask you to hand over your weapons."

"What's the meaning of this?" the turian Spectre asked, his voice turning ice cold as his mind raced through his possible options.

"A safety percussion," a new voice added as a quarian wearing a normal version of their enviromental suit stepped into view. "Disarm them," he ordered Reegar.

"You're Captain Kenn'Mal?" Anderson figured.

"Yes."

"Captain, before you take this any further, think this through. We only came here to talk," the human reasoned. "There's no need for violence."

"There won't be any violence on my part, Spectre. As I've said, this is merely a safety percussion," the quarian officer countered as the marine who had just helped them escape pulled the Carnifex off of Saren's armor, inspecting the gun for a brief moment before tossing it to the other end of the room, only briefly muttering that it was 'nothing persona' before repeating the process on Anderson. "I can't have agents of the Council interfere with my operation," he reasoned before turning to Saren. "I am sure you understand, Agent Arterius."

"We're not hear to interfere with your operation," he began. "We're-"

"- here to talk, I know," the quarian interrupted him. "So talk."

"You're using our installation to track the geth, we need to know what you learned about them ever since you started."

"Your installation?" the quarian chuckled. "Your people abandoned this place for centuries until mine found it and fixed it," he said while walking towards them, nodding his head at the makeshift repairs that had been done to the interior of the base. "Can you really still call it yours after all of that?"

"I don't have time for philosophical questions," the turian replied. Right about now, he didn't care if the quarians wanted to keep this place. In his mind, they could have every last outpost the Hierarchy had ever built if they gave him what he needed. "I need you to tell my what you know about the geth."

"Why?" the captain retorted. "Is the Council finally planning to do something about them? If that's the case, I am sorry to be the one to tell you that you're too late. The geth surpassed the rest of the galaxy centuries ago. You won't be able to stop them now."

"They're doing something in the Traverse, we need to know what," he said in return, sharing a look with Anderson, who if his face was anything to go by was far from happy with the current situation. "For all of our sakes, please just tell us what you know," he practically begged.

"He sounds legitimately concerned, Sir. Maybe we should tell them, even if it's just gets them out of our way without making a mess," the quarian from earlier said as he hung his wet cloak over one of the disabled consoles. If he hadn't just walked them right into a trap, Saren might've appreciated what he was trying to do.

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it, Corporal Reegar. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Sir."

"What is your intention with the geth?" the captain asked after shutting down his subordinate. "What will you do if I tell you what you want to know?"

Saren paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

"The geth hold the answer to a question I need answered. I was hoping that your intel will spare me the trip," he admitted, "but if it comes to it, I'll use what you tell me to figure out a way to ask them myself."

That reply ushered in the single most silent silence Saren had ever experienced in his entire life.

"You want to talk to the geth?" the captain spoke with complete disbelief.

"If it comes down to it," he confirmed.

"The geth?" the captain muttered. "The same geth who are known to shoot on sight?"

"Yes," he repeated.

"Have you lost your mind, Spectre?" the quarian asked, this time completely sincere.

"I realise that this plan sounds dangerous."

"Try suicidal," Reegar injected.

"But if you knew the stakes, you'd understand why I'm willing to do this," Saren finished. "Please, Captain Kenn'Mal, we need this information."

There was another pause, this one clearly one of consideration. If it weren't for the suit, he might've been able to tell what was going through the mind of the officer but as things were, the only thing Saren could observe was him slowly but surely walking closer towards them. Even if he didn't want things to go this way, Saren readied himself to lash out in case the quarian made the one decision the turian hoped he wouldn't. They might've gotten the drop on them but between Anderson, a human N7 who still had access to blade knife Saren knew to be hidden just below his gauntlet, and himself, a biotic Blackwatch operative, they could fight their way out of this if the need arose. High ground or not, quarians weren't exactly well suited for the kind of fight Spectres excelled in.

"Do you want to die? Is that it?" the captain asked as he came to a halt just in front of Anderson. "Because I can make that easier for you. There are a lot of deadly predators in this swamp, all I'd have to do is throw you in it at night and be done with it," he said in a low tone. "Would spare you the trip."

"Why don't you give it a try?" Anderson replied as he moved his face closer to the yellow face plate of the quarian, causing Saren to ready himself, putting a finish on the plan he had been outlining since the very moment they had walked into this trap. First he'd throw a shockwave at the ones above them, causing them to lose their balance and their line of fire. Then he'd close in on Reegar and get himself a weapon, he might've looked strong for a quarian but the turian was more than certain that he could take him in hand to hand combat, even if he had to resort to his biotics to finish it. After that, they'd have to see how many reinforcements the quarians still had and then they'd have to figure out how to retrieve the data they had collected and the-

A laughter broke his focus.

"Who am I to deny you the right to walk into your death?" the quarian chuckled. "Lower your weapons," he instructed. "You're already aiming at dead men."

"Does this mean you'll give us what we need?"

"Me?" he asked. "No," he shook his head. "As the scientific officer of this mission, I have other matters to attend to," the quarian they had been looking for dismissed, "but Specialist Zenn will take care of you. Take them to her, Corporal," the captain instructed before simply walking away from the two Spectres as if he hadn't just threatened them. "Make sure they get what they want."

"Yes, Sir," the quarian in red once more said before following his superior's orders. "Alright, come with me," he went on before coming to a halt, "I promise you, there won't be an ambush this time," he chuckled.

"You think this is funny, don't you?" Anderson said all the while picking his weapon of the ground under the suspicious eyes of one of the quarian riflemen.

"I think we'll be laughing about this if we ever meet again," the quarian scout reasoned while climbing up a ladder to one of the other levels of the previously turian base. "Watch the third rung, it's kind of loose," he added while skipping that particular part of the ladder. "Where are you, Zenn?" he called just as Saren himself managed to climb the ladder, feeling another rung bend under the combined weight of his own body and his armor. This place really was a mess, was it possible that the Hierarchy had built it but never actually gotten around to man it? It was certainly the impression he was getting the longer he stayed in the base.

"Right here," a voice came back to them from beyond the corner up ahead, the faint humming of machinery becoming clearer the closer they got to the source of the voice. "Just a moment," it added as Anderson, Saren and Reegar entered the smaller room, which looked like it had served as some kind of information hub before the Hierarchy had abandoned the place. Terminals and screens were lining the walls and a mess of cables all lead towards a central holo desk he recognized to be an outdated piece of turian military equipment, having long since been replaced by a far more modern variant. "This is the Saren Arterius?" she asked as she mustered the turian with a brief glance before looking back to Reegar. "I thought he'd be older," she observed.

He wasn't sure what to make of that statement.

"The captain wants you to give them a copy of our data on the geth."

"All of it?" she questioned with a hint of doubt.

"All of it," the other quarian nodded.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Orders are orders, Zenn, it doesn't matter what I think about them," Reegar sighed. "Give them a copy of our data."

"Fine," the quarian woman said as she nodded towards the holo desk. "Let me get this out of the way immediately, we probably don't have nearly as much as you think we have, so don't get your hopes up," she explained while pulling a new-looking data drive from an adapter that had been attached to the much older desk. "When this place was built, the geth weren't nearly as sophisticated as they are now. That made things difficult."

"Meaning?" Saren inquired as he caught the data drive being flung towards him half heartly.

"You know how geth work?" she asked and before even giving them a chance to reply went on. "The more geth programs there are, the smarter they get and the smarter they get, the harder it becomes to track them. When this base was first set up, there weren't nearly as many geth programs as there are today. It wasn't built for the kind of tracking it's currently doing. I guess you see why that might be a problem?"

"How much intel are we talking?" Anderson injected as he leaned against the holo table.

"It's not a lot but what little we have, is still interesting," Zenn replied. "We've got a few coordinates and one major anomaly. That's what we've collected up to now."

"An anomaly?" the human asked again.

"A repetitive message ," the quarian explained before sighing upon seeing Anderson's confused expression. "In case you were wondering why this is strange, "she spoke with a hind of sarcasm, "Geth don't require repetition. They're not like us, they don't forget things, it's not how they work. They don't need reminders every now and again," she went on. "Hence, it's an anomaly."

"Alright and what are they repeating?" Anderson replied.

"I have no idea, it has no meaning. Or at least it shouldn't have one, at least not to the geth. Hence, a major anomaly."

"Care to elaborate on that?" Anderson asked again, causing the quarian to sigh.

"Geth communication is based around Khelish numerals. We use words, they use numbers and to bridge that gap, our scientists made sure that every set of numbers the geth use can be translated into Khelish," Zenn spoke, before turning towards one of her screens, intending to continue whatever work they had interrupted her in. "But in their repetitive message, they aren't using numbers which we can translate, they're repeating a word and it's not a quarian one."

"Geth can learn things, right? Is it such a stretch for them to make up a language to stop you from eavesdropping on them?" Anderson replied, causing the quarian to stop in the middle of her task.

"That's not how the geth work," she sighed agai."Sentient AI or not, their base code will always be Khelish and they can't help but think and communicate in Khelish numerals. It's a part of them they can't change, no matter how many of them exist. They can't rewrite themselves to such an extreme degree," she paused. "But somehow they managed to do just that, which is more than just freighting. If I were you, I'd think twice about doing what I think you're about to do with this intel."

"What's the word they're saying?" Saren asked. Dangerous anomaly or not, they had to do this. Since the quarians obviously didn't have what they needed, this was their last, best shot. If he had to find a way to talk to the geth to save the galaxy, he'd do exactly that.

"Nazara," Zenn replied. "As I said, it means nothing," yet to him it sounded strangely like a name.

"And what about the coordinates?" Anderson once more asked, likely to the annoyance of the quarian woman.

"They're way points."

"To what?"

"A single location all the geth in the region seem to be converging on," she shrugged. "It's no groundbreaking anomaly but we still managed to pick it up. But I still don't see how either of these things make your plan any less suicidal."

Probably because it didn't. Neither the anomaly, nor way points answered the question as to why the geth were picking apart the Attican Traverse for the same kind of clues they themselves had been chasing all these years or what had happened to the thing that had influenced Had'dah. As things were, he and Anderson would really have to go face to face with the synthetic pariah of the galaxy.

"Anything else we should know?" Saren muttered while considering their options. This hadn't gone like either him or Harper had hoped it would. The quarians hadn't given them answers, just more questions.

"Only one thing really," Zenn replied. "These geth are different from the rest. While they're a lot of them roaming around the Traverse, they are both" for a moment the quarian looked as if she couldn't find the right word, "dumber and smarter than they should be," that made next to no sense. "Collectively it's almost like they're not connected with the majority of their collective consciousness but if that were the case, they shouldn't be nearly as smart as they are appear to be. Something about them is just all wrong, like they're fundamentally different from what they should be."

"Kind of like the anomaly?" Saren remembered to which the quarian nodded. "Great."

This was not at all how he had hoped this day would go.

* * *

 **Seven Hours Later, HSASV Budapest**

After pretty much walking away empty-handed from Lestral, he and Anderson had called for their ride, a human cruiser flying under the flag of Cerberus, and subsequently set course for the last hint they had, the way points of the geth. While the eventual goal was still to find a way to ask them what was going on, both Spectres knew that jumping head first into the rally point the geth were converging on would be both suicidal and pointless. Getting killed by overeagerly flying into what might as well be an enemy armada would not only get them nothing, it would also be quite embarrassing. Right now, the best thing they could do was stealthily trail the movements of the geth in an attempt to get a better grasp of what they were doing all the while trying to figure out just how they could get around the small, pesky detail that the synthetics would likely shoot them on sight, a problem Harper was apparently 'working on' if the brief conversation the two had shared earlier was anything to go by.

At least his brother had been more successful. According to his message, Desolas had been able to link up with his old asari contact without much trouble.

Saren let out a sigh as he stared at the small ration bar in his hand, its familar bland taste doing very little to distract him from the fact that he hadn't even gotten close to achieving what he had set out to achieve without Desolas' approval. They had gotten nothing on Lestral. No that wasn't entirely accurate. They had gotten less than nothing on Lestral, the meeting with the quarians had only raised even more questions and there would come a point in the near future where there wouldn't be enough time left to answer them, where the fight with the Harbinger would've begun on terms that made their victory not only unlikely but outright impossible.

He couldn't let that happen.

Placing the mostly unconsumed ration bar back in the compartment of his armor he had retrieved it from, Saren glanced at the bunk the ship's captain had provided him with and ever so briefly considered falling asleep right then and there, an idea that died the moment his omni-tool vibrated, an unknown contact demanding his attention, expecting him to take a call originating from the opposite end of the galaxy. Quantum entanglement really was a useful technology. Checking to see if his communication scramblers were in place, he wouldn't want to give away his position after all, the Spectre gave in to his natural curiosity and waved his hand to answer the call.

"Hello, Agent Arterius," a voice itself scrambled to the point of no recognition began to speak. "It as come to my attention that you are looking into a matter I myself have taken a interest in."

"Who is this?" he already had his suspicions.

"I can be a great many number of things, Agent Arterius, even your worst enemy, but at the moment I'd like to think of us as allies pursuing a common goal," the deep voice explained, the short breaks and simple demeanor with which it spoke quite unlike anything he had ever heard before. Even with scramblers, one could usually tell to what species they were speaking, the rapid pace of salarians or cold monotone of elcor being particularly clear examples of voice scramblers failing to hide entire identity of the person using them. In this situation this wasn't the case. "My agents have already found what you're looking for and as such I know how to find that which you call Nazara," how did the voice know about something he had only heard a few hours ago?

The only real explanation he could come up with was only reinforcing his earlier suspicions.

"Who told you about the geth?" the Spectre muttered while closing the door of the room he had been provided with. The last thing he needed was someone walking in and scaring off what was likely either a high-ranking agent of the galaxy's most notorious information dealer or, even more likely, the Shadow Broker himself.

"Even the Migrant Fleet is not out of my reach," the arrogance in his tone was clear even through the scramblers.

He thought carefully about his next move.

The Shadow Broker had a truly unique relationship to the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel. On the one hand, he was a wanted fugitive in the entirety of Council space, assassinations and acts of terror causing the Citadel Council to give all of its agents the order to shoot on sight should they ever encounter him. By all means, he was one of the biggest enemies the civilized part of the galaxy had ever seen. But on the other hand, beyond the veil of moral superiority and principles, the Council knew very well that almost half of its best agents regularly dealt with the Broker to various extends, using his vast network to stop other threats to the Citadel's security in exchange for their own assistance, a practice the Citadel Council ignored as long as it worked but cracked down on the moment a Spectre fell out of their grace.

Saren himself had always avoided going to the Broker, a mixture of a sense of honor, a concept most Spectres abandoned at one point or another, a rather rigid set of personal rules he used to keep himself on track and the worry of what the Broker would have him do in exchange for giving him the desired knowledge keeping the turian away from any dealings with the enigmatic figure. He had always figured that there'd always be another way to save the day, even if people like Tela Vasir, who had done far more than just 'basic favours' for the Shadow Broker, claimed the opposite. He had never understood how desperate one would have to be to come up with the idea of asking a sworn enemy of the Citadel Council to help protect the very same institution that had placed a 'shoot-on-sight' order on him. It simply felt like a leap of logic he could never bring himself to make.

At least until now.

No matter how he spun it, no matter how sick it made him, how much it went against his code or how much it contradicted everything he believed in, this really was the only viable option he had left. They couldn't study the artifacts, their lead on the quarians had turned out empty and talking to the geth was basically suicide. For all intents and purposes, his options were all but exhausted, yet here the Shadow Broker was, presenting an easy solution to him at just the right moment. He suspected that this was exactly how Vasir and others had fallen into his service.

"Where is it?" Saren muttered with the same icy voice he found himself using far more often these days. Was this what it felt like to sell pieces of himself for the greater good?

He didn't like it.

"I will sent you the coordinates momentarily," the Shadow Broker spoke.

"What's in it for you?" he was almost hesitant to ask but he simply had to know.

"At the moment? Nothing," the Broker explained as the coordinates to a planet at the very edge of the Attican Traverse, already brushing against the Perseus Veil, appeared on his omni-tool.

"If you think I'll become your personal hitman for this," he began only for a dark, incredibly alien chuckle to cut him short.

"I expect no such thing," the Broker explained in an almost uncharacteristically arrogant way. What little he knew of other Spectres dealings with the figure had suggested that he rarely if ever let his emotions slip, leading some to believe that they weren't even talking to a living being to begin with. "Consider this an investment into my own business. What you're pursuing is as dangerous to me as it is to you. The only thing I expect from you, is that you stop it." He really wanted to ask how the Broker knew but something told him he'd never get the answer to that. "May I extend a suggestion to you, Agent Arterius?"

"What is it?" there it was again, that cold tone he kept noticing.

"The nature of what Nazara is likely to be," he didn't like the sound of that,"could require the assistance of your asari acquaintance," his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at that. "I suggest that you tell Doctor T'Soni to meet you on the Citadel, her abilities will become," the Broker paused for a few seconds, "useful in the near future."

"How do you know about her?" the turian Spectre asked.

"I will be watching you, Agent Arterius," that wasn't an answer.

With that the transmission ended and soon enough Saren found himself standing on the bridge of the Cerberus vessel.

"What do you mean 'turn it around'?" Anderson asked as he and the captain of the Budapest stared at him, the bluish glow of the mass relay they were about to journey through illuminating the bridge around them.

"I just got another lead, a solid one," he explained. "But we have to get back to the Citadel before we pursue it."

"I don't understand this, why the change of heart?" the captain, an older human with skin slightly less dark than Anderson's asked as he ran a hand through his short, graying hair.

"And where did you get this lead?" the human Spectre asked.

He considered it for a moment before Anderson's words from earlier this week echoed back into his mind.

"It's from the Shadow Broker. He just contacted me and told me that he knows where to find Nazara," he said, causing the older human to become visibly disgruntled. Even if it was hardly relevant to their cooperation, he knew that the human intelligence service and Cerberus in particular had been trying to get to the Shadow Broker for years now. It was no surprise that the man didn't like hearing that name onboard of his vessel. "But it's still a solid lead."

"Saren, how do you even know that it was the real Broker?" Anderson asked.

"I just do."

"This could be an ambush," the human captain, who had been distinctly less reluctant about flying into territory crawling with geth, added and he couldn't deny that the thought of it being another trap had crossed his mind. After all, the Broker would gain a lot from taking out even a single Spectre. But in his mind the risk was worth the reward. Even if it was a trap, the figure still knew something about Nazara. If it took springing his ambush to get a shot at that piece on intel, he'd do it. Spirits, if he was entirely honest with himself he knew that this point there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to find some way to stop the Harbinger.

"If you don't want to risk your crew on this operation, Captain, I will respect that but I still need you to bring me back to the Citadel. We can't afford ignoring this and if I have to do it myself, I will," the turian reasoned.

"No, we've been down this road before," Anderson sighed. "You're done doing things on your own, Saren. We're in this together," the human Spectre said before turning to the captain. "Sir, I vote in favour of this new approach," he said to the older man.

"You don't need to vote on anything, son. It's neither your nor my call. The director was clear on one thing," the man nodded towards Saren. "He's the one in charge," a pause. "Helmsman, bring us back to the Citadel."

He deeply hoped that he wouldn't regret this.

* * *

 **2155 CE** **, Thessia,** **Dormitories of the T'Lav University**

She was certain that there was no noise more terrible than the vibration of an omni-tool at night. No matter what the goddess had created in her alleged infinite wisdom, nothing came even close to the horrendous sound that had interrupted her already far too short sleeping hours. Fumbling in the dark, trying to find the device she knew to be somewhere on her nightstand, Liara only now recognized that this wasn't the sound of her regular omni-tool but the one General Arterius had given to her in case she ever needed to be contacted directly and at short notice.

That realisation woke her up fast enough.

Briefly struggling to adapt to the orange glow of the omni-tool shining far too brightly for comfort, she accepted the call in spite of her eyes still being in pain and found the familiar face of the younger Arterius, the Spectre, appear in front of her.

"I'm awake, what do you need me to do?" she spoke, almost tripping over her own words, the prospect of working on yet another exciting piece of technology causing her to be far too excited considering the overarching reason she and the turian were even working together to begin with.

"Doctor T'Soni I-" the turian spoke only to quickly avert his eyes, his mandibles twitching rather oddly in response. "Spirits, I apologize I didn't mean t-"

"Oh, no. Don't. There's nothing to apologize for. It's fine," she realised what was going on, pulling her blanket up to her chin. In her excitement, she had forgotten that her sleeping habits, while completely normal in the mono-gendered society of the asari, could be rather distracting for other species. "It's fine," she repeated.

The turian cleared his throat before once more turning his head.

"Doctor T'soni," he began again. "I need your help with something."

"Another artifact?" she asked. "Are you already on Thessia?" she knew she shouldn't sound this excited but she just couldn't help herself in cases like this one. "When will you be here?"

"I am afraid it might be a bit more complicated than last time," the turian replied as the twitching of his mandibles ceased, "and far more dangerous."

That last part served to quell her mood. Liara had always been rather adventurous and her mother had insisted on her sharpening her biotic abilities to the point where they could save her life but she still wasn't the kind of person who ran towards danger. It took a special kind of person to put themselves in the kind of situations people like Saren Arterius activitly looked for and she wasn't one of them. But even then, she had known exactly what she had gotten herself into when she had said yes to Saren's brother back when he had first approached her. Back then she had made a promise to herself and now she intended to live up to it.

Maybe it was time for her to become a different kind of person.

"What do you need me to do?" she repeated her earlier question far more awake and far more serious than before.

"Can you meet me on the Citadel?"

* * *

 _Codex: The Shadow Broker_

 _Known only by his alias, the Shadow Broker is the galaxy's most notorious information broker and one of the most wanted individuals in the galaxy. Having made his first appearance some time after the Geth War, the Broker was at first believed to be a salarian, then a turian and finally when he had outlived both the natural life spans of these two species, an asari or krogan with a background in the intelligence service community, capable of heavily influencing the course of galactic politics into his favour through the use of a vast network of agents, mercenaries and companies all acting at his ultimate direction._

 _Wanted on accounts of murder, espionage and terrorism, the Shadow Broker's role in galactic history is a rather strange one, mostly because at times, his or her actions directly contradicted themselves, a fact that led many to believe that the Shadow Broker wasn't just a single individual but a rather a group of people all assuming the identity of the Broker whenever it worked in their favour._

 _It should be noted that due to the timing of his appearance, several experts have voiced the theory that the Shadow Broker may in fact be an AI that, upon witnessing the Geth War and the Council's reaction to it, namely the Artificial Intelligence Ban (See Entry 'Artificial Intelligence Ban'), disguised itself as a real person to escape termination._

 _Furthermore it should be noted that leading intelligence agencies such as the Turian Naval Intelligence (TNI) and the Special Task Group (STG) have voiced the hypothesis that the original Shadow Broker has in fact been dead for centuries and that a series of successors, assuming the mantle either through murdering their predecessor or simply outliving him, have long since taken over his operation._

* * *

 **A/N:  
**

 **Chapter 43!**

 **Literally my christmas present to you! That's what you call timing!**

 **Yeah.. I really thought I'd get this out earlier... but lately my expecations have been anything but accurate.**

 **So.. I finally dropped the N-bomb (Nazara, for those of you who don't know who or what that is, don't look it up, it'll make the rest of this arc a lot better) in Semper Vigilo, indicating that we really are getting close tothe first REAL Reaper moment of thisstory. Up to now it's all been talking around it but soon, really soon, it's gonna happen. The pay of to what's basically been one year of me foreshadowing the shit out of things.**

 **Also.. I don't know why but no matter what happens, I just can't keep Saren and Anderson's scenes completely serious... they always get a little lethal weapon-y (is that a word? I'll make it a word) but I think that's fine. It's half their charm really. At this point these two guys are so good that they can be a bit joking when shit hits the fan.**

 **Also also... first real appearance of the quarians. A bit of talking and two perspectives of the same geth war. As I've said a thousand times, I'm not a fan of making the quarians compeltely innocent and good (hence the nasty minefield), but as this chapter probably shows... I also know that something utterly fucking terrible happened to them and the rest of the galaxy basically just watched it happen.** **Hence... the attidute reegar (hello there canon character making a bit of an early apperance) gave Saren.**

 **Also also also... I finally managed to get the Shadow Broker back into things, even though I rarely use him, something about his character just speaks to me. Until Lair of the Shadow Broker, the guy was basically THE god damn Chessmaster of the Mass Effect universe and to me, (in case a lot of Semper Vigilo's plots didn't let oyu know) spies and subterfuge and all taht shit are really interesting.**

 **That's basically all I have to say really.**

 **Let me know what you think.**

 **Happy Holidays mates.**

 **For the Record we're at 352 reviews, 580 favorites and 685 follows.**

 **See you around next time**


	44. The Bigger Picture

**Chapter 44.** **The Bigger Picture**

* * *

 **2155 CE, Citadel**

"This is a bad idea," Anderson said as he sidestepped a keeper, the mysterious insectoid race that acted as the caretakers of the Citadel.

Even though the scientific community of the galaxy had tried to make sense of them for over two thousand years now, there was surprisingly little that they actually knew about the creatures. While they could be safely ignored, the small, green creatures had a tendency to dissolve themselves in a self-produced acid at the first sign of foreign interference which made it all but impossible to study them in detail. Furthermore, as if spontaneous suicides alone weren't bad enough, there was also the fact that the exact source of the keepers remained undiscovered. The best guess scientists could make was that some sort of facility deep within the otherwise inaccessible core of the Citadel somehow monitored their numbers and produced replacements when necessary, perhaps using the foreign technology all keepers seemed to carry in the process.

"So you've been saying ever since we got here," the turian replied.

"Because it is. We still don't know if we're walking into an ambush and you want to bring a civilian with you? What if it really is a trap? What if something happens to her? This is reckless, Saren. "

"So was bringing Sanders to Camala," he countered, remembering the first official mission he and Anderson had completed. "But you still agreed to do it and it all worked out in the end."

"That was different. Sanders wasn't a civilian," Anderson insisted. "She could've handled herself if things had gone sideways."

"We sent her to stare down a krogan battlemaster, Anderson," he recalled as the human's face grimaced ever so slightly at the memory, "Civilian or not, it wouldn't have made a difference to Skarr," he reasoned. "Besides, the doctor is a biotic. If we really are walking into a trap, she'll be fine as long as she keeps her head down and lets us handle things."

"Alright," the human sighed. "I'll be sure to come back to that statement when this inevitably blows up in our faces."

"I expect nothing less."

"So who's this doctor anyway?" the human asked while the wandered through the Presidium of the Citadel.

"The daughter of Councilor Benezia," the turian replied before his fellow Spectre broke into a chuckle.

"Yeah right, good one," Saren turned to look at Anderson, tilting his head ever so slightly to indicate that he didn't get just what was so funny about this. "Wait, you're serious, aren't you?" Anderson finally realised.

"Yes."

"Jesus," his friend seemed to use this phrase rather often in recent times.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I really like this job, Saren."

"And?"

"And I wasn't planning on retiring early."

"What do you mean?"

"If this goes south, which given our track record it probably will," Anderson said with a frown," the last person we want to put in the line of fire is the daughter of the asari councilor. That's a one way ticket straight into forced retirement."

"Just one more reason to make sure that it doesn't go wrong then," the turian merely replied.

He saw where his friend was coming from but besides the obvious reason of Liara T'Soni already being somewhat used to working with him, there was also the fact that she was one of the few scientists who had proven useful in all of this and, more importantly, one of the few scientist he trusted to not be overwhelmed by whatever they'd find at the Shadow Broker's coordinates, be it Nazara or an ambush. While she sometimes got far too excited for her own good, Saren knew that she, more than most people, had a firm grasp on the actual stakes of the matter. After all, she had dedicated her life to finding the truth behind the protheans' disappearance, witnessing first hand what the extinction of an entire race at the hands of the Harbinger looked like. If someone truly understood what they were in for should they fail to find a way to stop their foe, it was Doctor T'Soni.

"Very reassuring," the human spoke dryly. "Is that her?" he added, causing Saren to look the way Anderson himself was facing. Briefly scanning the crowd for the familiar face of the asari, he didn't have to look all that long until finding the archeologists, the luggage she was carrying with her, most of which he simply assumed to be of scientific origin, making it all the more easy to spot her.

"Yes."

"Slightly less reassuring," Anderson corrected himself.

"It'll be fine," Saren insisted.

Under different circumstances he would've agreed that this was a bad idea but the fact remained that Doctor T'Soni was an asari and as the evolution of her species would have it, every last asari was biotic and almost all of them inherently had better control over their abilities than even the most experienced biotics of other species could even dream of ever achieving through years of training. Saren might've been an exceptionally powerful biotic by turian standards but compared to asari who had invested even as little as a few years into improving their natural abilities, he was almost painfully average, which was of course to be expected considering that unlike everyone else, asari were meant to be biotics. It was the path that their evolution had chosen and while they couldn't run as fast as turians, go on for as long as humans or come even close to the average reaction time of salarians, their biotic abilities were simply unmatched.

"Did I mention the possibility of us walking into an ambush or was that just in my head?" He understood Anderson's skepticism. On the grand scale of things his people were still complete strangers to most things Saren and every other turian had grown up accepting as mere facts of everyday life. To the N7 biotics were still a completely new discovery, something he had never thought possible until it had suddenly been thrown in his face. It only made sense that he wouldn't put as much faith in them as Saren, who had the added benefit of being a biotic himself.

"Trust me," he replied just as the archeologist spotted them. "She'll be fine."

"You're right, what's the worst that could happen?" the human Spectre said in a comical tone as if he was tempting the universe itself. "Except of course all of us getting captured by the Shadow Broker."

"To be fair, we've been through worse than that," he offered as the asari began to approach them. "Remember Alkath?" he added with a chuckle.

"I'd rather not."

"We got out just fine back then, even though you-"

"I said I'd rather not," the human interrupted him. "Heads up. Here she comes."

"Agent Arterius," the asari greeted in an upbeat tone before turning to Anderson. "You didn't mention we'd have company. "

"Given the situation, I found it appropriate to bring backup," the turian nodded. "This is David Anderson," he said as the asari and human shook hands.

"A pleasure to meet you, Doctor T'Soni," the human replied politely and unenthusiastic at the same time.

"The pleasure is all mine, Agent Anderson," a brief pause. "I haven't met many humans. I look forward to learning more about your people."

"Don't get your hopes up. We're not all that special," the other Spectre shrugged after letting go of her hand.

"I see my delivery reached you in time," Saren injected upon spotting the one piece of T'Soni's luggage that appeared familiar to him, glad to have found something to interrupt the uncomfortable silence that was slowly manifesting itself within the group of three. He might've put a lot of trust into biotics, especially those of asari, but that didn't mean that he was foolish enough to rely solely on them. He knew from personal experience that phasic rounds made short work of both kinetic and biotic barriers. For that reason alone, nothing could replace a good set of armor.

"Yes it did," the asari replied. "Although I have to admit that I am far from familiar with it. I never really had a need for armor before today," Anderson shot him a brief look that almost screamed 'I told you so'.

"You'll have enough time to become familiar with it while we travel to our destination," Saren offered in return. "Besides, it looks far more complicated that it actually is," the turian offered in addition in hopes of further reassuring the doctor. "I'm sure you've dealt with more complicated matters before." If the short smile she gave was an indication, his reassurance had worked. "Pleasantries aside, we should get going. Our shuttle is already waiting," he finally added.

"Of course, I'll just grab my belongings and then we," the asari began as she made a move for one of her bags only to be beaten to the punch by Anderson.

"Please, let me," the human said before walking into the direction of the docking bay, carrying two of the heavier looking bags towards the shuttle which was waiting to take them to the cruiser that would serve as their method of transportation for the next week. It might've seemed more complicated than just letting the cruiser dock on the Citadel but given its allegiance to a group that technically didn't exist, splitting their journey into two pieces was actually easier, mostly because it raised less questions.

"I don't think he likes me," the asari next to Saren commented while picking up the case in which her armor was currently stored in.

"It's not you, it's the situation," the turian replied. "He doesn't like the thought of bringing you along for what could be an ambush," while he had told Doctor T'Soni about the dangers of their mission, he got the feeling that his reminder hit her much harder than she left on, the brief change of her facial expression giving him the impression that a part kept forgetting that there was a very real chance of this being a trap. "I know this sounds unlikely but he'll come around eventually. He always does," Saren added in another attempt to reassure the scientist.

"Does he-"

"Know that there's a good chance we'll be facing a galactic apocalypse any time now?" a nod was the only reply he got as they kept following the human who still choose to seclude himself from them."Yes. I told him some time ago. The stakes are probably the only reason he's going along with this idea in the first place."

"Can I ask you a question?" Doctor T'Soni spoke in return, deciding not to reply to what he had said about Anderson.

"Of course," the turian replied almost immediately. If he was asking her to put her life on the line, the least he could do was answer her questions.

"What happens if we find what we're looking for? What do we do when we know what Nazara actually is?" the asari asked, letting loose a question he himself hadn't thought about up to now.

"Find out how it's connected to the Harbinger," he said, voicing the first thought that crossed his mind.

"And then?"

"Find out how we can use it to stop his plan and ultimately how we can use it to kill him," he replied in an icy tone, which judging by Liara T'Soni's expression, was far from pleasant to hear for someone who had lived the rather sheltered life up to now. The archeologists might've been far older than Saren himself but there was no doubt in his mind that just about all of those years had been spent far away from the things that people like him and Anderson, who'd be lucky to ever reach her age in the first place, saw on a regular basis. "I know that this is far from what you signed up for when my brother contacted you but it's what has to be done," he added.

"I understand," the asari reassured him after a brief moment of hesitation, now appearing distinctively less enthusiastic. He felt sorry for crushing that spark of scientific curiosity that always seemed to accompany Doctor T'Soni but right now, his only priority was finding a way to win against an increasingly superior foe.

Needlessly to say, the rest of their walk was spent in silence.

* * *

 **Eight Days Later, Afelaph System,** **SHL-401,** **HSASV Budapest**

"Anything ?" Saren asked as he once more stood on the bridge, inspecting the brownish-red orb currently occupying the majority of viewing screens around him.

"No, we're still not picking up any signals from either the planet or its moons," the human naval officer replied. "As far as we can tell, there's nothing down there." While that sounded suspiciously similar to the report of the human mission on Akuze, the event that had sent him on this journey, it also decreased the odds of this being an ambush substantially. If they really were alone out here, which seemed likely given that they had been scanning for some sort of life signs for the last two hours and hadn't been fired at once, it meant that the Broker had been sincere in his 'favour' and that he really wanted Saren to succeed. The turian wasn't sure how to feel about that just yet.

"Understood," the Spectre nodded. "What about the recon pass over the coordinates?"

"Inconclusive."

"Inconclusive?"

"We found," the man paused for a moment while looking at the planet, "something down there," he said before pressing a series of buttons that caused one of the bigger screens to zoom in on the exact coordinates the Shadow Broker had sent Saren,"but we've got no idea what it is," the man explained while Saren himself looked at the vague lines visible through the thick dust clouds between the reconnaissance probe and whatever it had discovered. "If we hadn't known where to look, we never would've found it. It appears to be some kind of structure but since it's reflecting all of our scans like a mirror, we can't be sure of its exact nature."

"Is the landing party ready?" he asked, well aware of the increasing similarities to Akuze. Just like back then, they were looking at an unknown structure capable of somehow deflecting all of their scans and just like back then, the planet seemed to be completely lifeless. His instincts were telling him that this was a bad idea but there was no going back now, they had to do this.

"Yes, we're just waiting for you to give the word," the human naval officer replied while folding his hands behind his back, either unconcerned or unaware of the similarities to the last time a scan had produced this very result. Either way, the Spectre appreciated that Harper's people weren't telling him to call it off. The last thing he needed right now was a captain unwilling to go along with his plan.

"Tell them to spin up the engines, I'll be in the hangar momentarily," he nodded before bringing up his omni-tool and informing both Doctor T'Soni, who by now was mostly familiar with the set of armor he had procured for her, and Anderson, who was still somewhat distant in regards to the asari, about their immediate departure. Then, after giving the captain a final nod of understanding, he started to make his way to the hangar, the thought of what they might run into preoccupying his mind the entire time.

Besides the possibility of stumbling into another artifact similar to the one Cerberus had uncovered on Akuze, Object Theta, and facing another horde of 'husks', the cybernetically enhanced creatures that seemed to accompany every artifact they found, an ambush of the Shadow Broker, as unlikely as it seemed, was still one of the most dangerous situation they could face. While he and Anderson were very good at what they did, they were just two operatives. If the Broker really put his mind to it, he could definitely muster a task force big enough to take them on or place a trap elaborate enough for them to spring. In addition to finding an artifact or springing the Broker's trap, Saren had also considered that the reason they were here to begin with was an intercepted geth transmission and that the coordinates he had received were dangerously close to the Perseus Veil, or as most people called it, geth space. Even if their scans didn't suggest their presence on the planet, the possibility of stumbling into a geth base existed. Given their isolation, there was no real way of knowing just how advanced the geth and more importantly their jamming and stealth technology, which had originally been based on highly sophisticated quarian designs, had gotten ever since the end of the Geth War. Surprise was the back bone of geth tactics and for all they knew, they could be greeted by an entire army of geth the moment their shuttle doors opened.

Saren let out a sigh as the elevator doors opened to reveal the hangar of the human ship, figures in flightsuits and white combat armor going about their business, some inspecting their weapons and others running final checks on the squadron of shuttles and the flight of fightercraft that were stored in this part of the ship.

"Agent Arterius," one of the soldiers, who he recognized as Lieutenant Slattery, the leader of the platoon that would act as their quick reaction force in case they actually walked into a traditional ambush, greeted him. "Your shuttle is right over there, they're just waiting for you," he added while pointing towards one of the human Kodiaks next to which both the doctor and Anderson were already waiting, the latter looking distinctively calmer than the former, who by now had donned the white and blue set of armor he had procured for her, and was visibly affected by the unfamiliar commotion that tended to precede any orbital insertion. He hadn't expected anything less really, if one wasn't used to being surrounded by dozens of heavily armed soldiers, a degree of anxiousness was to be expected. Saren still remembered how he had felt during his first orbital drop and given that he had already been a trained soldier back then, he figured that Doctor T'Soni was even more anxious than him, especially because his first orbital insertion had been during an exercise, not an actual mission. It wasn't as much the act of flying itself that got to people, it was the thought of sitting in a flying target and being at the mercy of the skills of their pilot and the accuracy of the enemy anti-air gunners. It only took a single well-placed shot to turn a shuttle filled with soldiers into a mixture of debris and corpses burning up in the atmosphere.

He knew from personal experience what that fact could do to people.

"All set?" he asked Anderson as he approached the shuttle, receiving a nod from the former N7. "What about you, Doctor T'Soni?" he added.

"I'm ready," the asari said, the slight crack that appeared in her voice alongside her reply audible even through her helmet. While he assumed that Anderson felt like his point had already been proven, Saren himself was calm. Unless his impression of the doctor was entirely wrong, the nervousness she was showing right now would go away once they were on the ground and he got her to focus on the task at hand.

"Well then. What is it your people say?" the turian asked as he turned to Anderson, a smirk appearing on his face for as long as it took him to put on the last piece of his armor. "Let's get this theatre started?"

"Show," the human corrected with a chuckle. "We say 'let's get this show started'."

"Mine was close enough," Saren shrugged in return as his HUD assembled itself in front of his eyes while the two Spectres climbed into the crew compartment of the shuttle, the asari scientist following closely behind them. When she had taken a seat and strapped into one of the harnesses, the turian Spectre closed the shuttle's door and took a seat himself.

"All set," Anderson, who was closest to the pilot's cabin, called before also putting on his helmet. Not a moment later the human Kodiak took off, leaving behind the hangar bay of the Cerberus cruiser. "You have done this before, right, Doctor?" the N7 said a few moments later, causing Saren to turn his head to the left, seeing the asari hold onto her harness as if her life depended on it.

"Yes," she replied briefly before it struck Saren.

Compared to an asari craft, which the archeologists was likely used to flying given that her expeditions were sponsored by one of Thessia's most distinguished and wealthiest universities, the ride in the human shuttle most likely seemed more than just bumpy. In fact it probably seemed like the Kodiak would fall apart any minute now. Their navy might've been nearly as big as the salarian one but the fact remained that the HSA, and by extension humanity, had only been using Element Zero-based technology for some three hundred years, which was a farcry of the two and a half millennia in which the asari had perfected the art of manipulating the mass effect in their favour. Most powerful Citadel associate since the Quarian Conclave or not, the gap which existed between Anderson's people and the rest of the galaxy was in spades both large and noticeable. Whether it was the state of their cities and planets, their still existent but slowly disappearing reliance on powder-based weaponry or something as specific as the state of the inertial dampeners installed in their shuttles, humanity still had a lot of catching up to.

"Don't worry, it's supposed to feel like it's breaking apart," Saren joked as he saw the first flames appear through the viewing screens installed in the walls of the crew compartment. "Humans like to feel dangerous."

"What can I say? It gets our blood pumping," Anderson replied with an amused laugh. "Just clench your teeth and enjoy the ride. It's gonna be fine," he offered as the shaking got more violent and Saren himself considered taking his friend's advice. He had always hated orbital insertions, especially the ones he had been a part of during his time as a cabal. While the Hierarchy's shuttles were more advanced than their human equivalent and as such should in theory be more comfortable to ride, turian doctrine demanded that the Cabal Corps always had the honor of being the first soldiers on the ground, which meant that the pilots carrying them into battle tended to do so at breakneck speed, the lack of friendly territory below them causing them to practically dive towards the surface as fast as possible in an attempt to avoid hostile anti-air positions.

"Goddess," the asari muttered as the flames and the shaking grew more intense and her fingers, shielded by armored gloves, practically dug themselves into the harness she was still holding onto.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're not enjoying yourselves," Anderson chuckled as the vibrations that had rattled Saren's spine for the last minute started to grow less severe.

"In case you haven't notice it by now," Saren spoke with an amused tone as he turned his head to the asari all the while gesturing towards Anderson himself. "The people who say that all humans are born crazy, aren't exactly lying."

"Thirty seconds, holding steady," the pilot called as they broke through the cloud layer, the rather unusual coloration of the sky around them and the complete lack of vegetation below betraying that the planet they were about to set foot on wasn't exactly habitable.

"I'm getting that impression as well," she replied before something near their landing zone demanded her attention. "Goddess," she repeated, sounding more excited and far less terrified than before. "Is that?"

"What the scanners weren't able to make sense of?" Saren asked as he too caught sight of what appeared to be a flat, single-story construct built at the foot of the small hill dominating this portion of the planet. Much to his dismay, it seemed to be made of the same grey, stone-like material that had also allowed the ruin on Akuze to survive for an untold number of years. "Probably," he figured before a ceiling lamp flooded the crew compartment in red light.

"It doesn't look remotely prothean," the asari observed as her eyes widened beneath her visor ever so slightly, casually confirming what he, Desolas and their allies had already suspected in regards to the other ruin that had shared this design. "If it's possible, I'd like to take a closer look."

"Well, it's your lucky day then," Anderson injected before Saren could open his mouth, "because I'm pretty sure those are our coordinates." A brief look at the orange map in the corner of his vision confirmed that.

"Fascinating."

"When we leave the shuttle, head straight for the structure. Don't wait for us, don't stop and don't look around until you've reached it, understood?" the turian instructed, receiving a nod from T'Soni. "Good."

"Ten seconds," the pilot spoke as Saren heard the faint sound of the door locks opening themselves, giving both him and Anderson the cue to undo their harnesses, an action the asari scientist next to him mirrored with some delay.

"Any bets on what we're gonna find?" Anderson asked as he walked over to the door of the shuttle and grabbed a hold of one of the slings hanging from the ceiling of the crew compartment, bracing himself for a swift exit.

"No," Saren shrugged while making sure that Doctor T'Soni was ready to exit the shuttle. "But knowing our luck, it'll try to kill us."

"Always the optimist," the human chuckled.

"As if you're one to talk," Saren replied just before the cabin was engulfed in a green light, the accompanying shout of the pilot and the opening of the doors causing the two Spectres and Doctor T'Soni to jump out of the shuttle and move towards their intended goal in a brisk jog.

As he looked around the reddish landscape in an attempt to figure out if there scanners had missed something, Saren noticed that besides the hill they were headed for, there weren't any other noticeable landmarks to be seen. The entire area seemed almost impossibly flat as if someone at some point, possibly the same people who had built the structure ahead of them, had gone out of their way to even out the terrain around it. As the Spectre came to a stop next to the exterior of the grey building, which now that he had gotten closer reminded him of a bunker, he couldn't help but shake the thought that they were being watched. While his instincts told him that a sniper already would've taken his shot and his mind knew that his paranoia was most certainly a product of both his training and their surroundings, it still bothered him more than it usually did. Something about this place felt wrong and the fact that he couldn't pinpoint what it was made it all the worse.

"Can you bypass the door? Get us inside?" he asked the asari all the while Anderson, who seemed to feel rather similar to Saren himself, scanned their surroundings through the scope of his modified turian rifle.

"That," Liara T'Soni paused as her eyes remained glued to her omni-tool all the while she walked towards the heavy-looking gate, "won't be necessary," she muttered before quite literally pushing apart the door with her bare hands. "It was unlocked," she explained as Saren and Anderson stared at her in disbelief. Either these were very trusting precursors or someone else had beaten them to the punch. "But that's not the most interesting part," Liara went on, still focused on her omni-tool. "Do you remember how we established that my theory on the protheans being the victim of a genocide was true?" she asked, receiving a nod from Saren. Of course he remembered. Who could forget something like that? "This structure," she said while a set of orange beams originating from her omni-tool gently danced across the metal door she had just pushed open, "is covered in the same weapon's residue we found on Tunae Prime and on every major prothean site in the Attican Traverse."

"So it is prothean then?" Anderson injected as he crept closer to the opened door. It was a reasonable assumption to make.

"I am fairly certain that it isn't," the asari dismissed him almost immediately before stepping past him and walking into the ruin, showing no signs of her previous nervousness aboard the shuttle and confirming Saren's impression of her. "Neither the materials used in its construction nor the architecture of the facility itself resemble that of other ruins I've visited."

"It's a bunker, of course it's going to look different from places like Feros," the human retorted.

"I've visited well over two hundred prothean ruins, Agent Anderson, and none of them looked like this, not even remote outposts on planets far more hostile than this one."

"Speaking of hostile," Saren spoke up himself as he too stepped into the bunker and noticed the lack of something that seemed incredibly crucial to him. "Shouldn't this place have an airlock?" he asked before his night vision gear kicked in and enabled him to see the thin bridge connecting their entrance to what appeared to be nothing more than an empty, circular well surrounded by the remains of a long dead garden.

"Maybe the place used to be nicer when they built it," Anderson offered. "Come on, let's keep going. This is just an empty entrance, the interesting stuff is up ahead."

"Agreed," the turian replied before Anderson took point across the narrow bridge.

"Doctor T'Soni?" Saren asked and when he got no reply from behind, he turned around only to realise that the asari had already found the next thing she could focus on. Instead of following them across the bridge, she had turned her attention on the fine lines running across the surface of the stone-like walls, tracing them with her hand as if she could learn something from them.

"This is fascinating. This could be their language or some other method of communication," she began to theorize only for Saren to interrupt her.

"Or it could be their version of interior decoration," the Spectre offered. "Perhaps we should focus on the bigger things fir-"

"Hey, remember how you said the doors had already been opened?" Anderson's voice came through the radio, causing Saren to look across the bridge and finding his fellow Spectre standing next to the well he had previously seen why. "I think I found out who opened them. You should come and take a look at this, Doctor T'Soni. You too, Saren."

"Care to be more specific?" the turian asked as he and the asari made their way across the bridge.

"I don't think I can," his friend muttered as nodded down the well, which upon closer inspection appeared to be anything but a well, the cracked, mirrored panels installed in its floor more closely resembling an upscaled version of the lenses used in holographic technology.

"Is that what I think it is?" Saren asked as he turned towards Doctor T'Soni, who was probably as much of an expert as he was on this particular subject.

"I think it is," the asari swallowed.

There, lying broken between the mirrored panels, was a silvery-white box from which a set of cables had been inserted into the cracks of the panels. While it made sense that Anderson didn't recognize what exactly he was looking at, the design of the device was immediately recognizable to both himself and Doctor T'Soni.

"What were the geth doing here?" he asked as he considered picking up the box, unsure of what would happen if he did. "How did they even find this place?" the captain had be rather specific about the fact that it had only been their access to the coordinates and the visual identification of a recon flight aimed at said coordinates that had allowed them to find this place.

"The geth?" Anderson repeated.

"We are close to the Perseus Veil, perhaps they just happened to stumble upon this bunker on their own?" Liara replied. "Or perhaps they came here for the same reason we did. It was after all their transmission that caused you to look for 'Nazara'. Mabye this is it?" she suggested.

"Did you just say geth?"

"This can't be it," Saren muttered as he looked at the small box. There had to be more to this. The geth had gone out of their way to defy their core programming to be able to create the repetitive message. It simply wasn't possible that this was all that there was to Nazara. "There is no way this thing is Nazara."

"Are you even listening to m-"

"Agent Aterius, this is Lieutenant Slattery," a voice suddenly came through their radios. Saren recognized it from earlier, it was the leader of their quick reaction force, which he most certainly hadn't called to action. "Prepare for evacuation. Over."

"Lieutenant, I didn't request eva-"

"An armada of geth and the biggest god damn ship I've ever seen just appeared from beyond the one of the moons and the Budapest is picking up even more contacts from somewhere behind them. We have to get you out of there right now. Over."

"Grab the box," he called towards Anderson, who without a moment of thinking pulled the device from the well-like object it was attached to.

"If it's anything like other pieces of geth technology, it will wipe its memory and give us nothing," the asari spoke up as they began to move.

"It's the only thing in here that we can carry," Saren countered as his HUD told him that the shuttles were almost right on top of them. "We have to go right now," he added well on his way across the bridge.

"All ground forces, this is the Budapest. Be advised, you've got gunships incoming from the north. I say again, hostile forces approaching your position from the north. Over," he heard over what sounded like emergency sirens going off in the background. This was bad. If the Budapest got destroyed, they'd be stranded and if they got stranded, they'd last exactly as long as it'd take for the geth to find them down here. Breaking into a full-blown sprint, the Spectre practically shot out of the alien bunker and searched the sky for the silhouettes of the human shuttles, his sharp eyes allowing him to spot them rather quickly.

"Twenty seconds, screens are moving in to cover our approach," he heard through his radio as he turned his head to the north just as his two companions caught up to him. While it took him a few seconds longer, he could now make out several strangely shaped ships heading directly for their position, flying dangerously close to the surface and paying no mind to the squadron of human fightercraft opening fire on them.

"Ten seconds."

"The moment you get into the shuttle, you strap into a harness. This will be a rough take-off," he called through the short-range radio while pulling the asari archeologist closer to him, intending to throw her into the shuttle on the off-chance that she froze up just before they reached the 'safety' of the shuttle.

"There they are," Anderson called just before one of the white shuttles executed a high-velocity stop, only coming to a halt mere moments before it would've smashed straight into the ground.

"Come on," one of the Cerberus operatives called as the doors shot open to reveal a mostly empty crew compartment into which the group of three practically jumped.

"What happened?" Saren called to the operative as he felt himself getting pressed into his seat before he had even finished strapping in, a quick look to his side confirming that they were climbing exactly as fast as it felt they were and a quick look to the asari scientist confirming that she was exactly as anxious as he had expected her to be, the positioning of Anderson leading him to belief that the human had been the one to put the finishing touches on her harness.

"It's the bloody geth, man," man pilot confirmed what he already knew. "They came out of nowhere and clipped the Budapest immediately. The captain ordered an emergency FTL jump the moment we took the first hit but still, she's damaged, badly."

"How badly are we talking?" Anderson, who seemed less bothered by the increasing force being excerpted on his body, asked the question Saren himself was about to ask.

"If she takes another one, we're done for," the Cerberus operative replied before their shuttle hit the pinnacle of acceleration and broke through the atmosphere of the planet.

While the procedure itself didn't take all that long, true to its name their rapid extraction had been just that, rapid, the few minutes it took for them and their escort to return to the cruiser felt like a small eternity, mostly because Saren was halfway expecting the ship to explode in front of his eyes mere moments before they'd enter its hangar. It certainly would fit into the kind of day he had the pleasure of having up to now. When their shuttle touched down in the hangar, the reality of the situation hit Saren. Once again, they had found nothing and once again, he had returned from a mission empty-handed. For a very specific set of reasons, that reality made him both desperate and angry, not at his companions but at himself. He was supposed to find a way to defeat the Harbinger but the only thing he seemed to be capable of doing was putting others in harm's way. As he undid his harness and removed his helmet, he lingered upon seeing his own reflection in the dark visor, a set of cold blue eyes staring right back at him, asking him a series of uncomfortable questions all the while the Budapest finalized its approach on the mass relay, strangely enough without geth pursuing it.

Had all of this been a mistake on his part?

Should he have done something differently?

Should he tell Desolas what was going on?

What was he even hoping to achieve like this?

Whatever the answers to these questions were, Saren knew one thing for certain. He had to change something because what he was currently trying clearly wasn't going to work. Every time he found a clue, it ended up being useless and every time he thought he had made a step forward, he actually took one back. Letting out a sigh to clear his mind, these thoughts wouldn't get him anywhere right now, Saren decided that the best thing he could do right now was to work with what he had and not dismiss it immediately in a fit of frustration. Everything else was a problem he'd deal with once he got back to the Citadel.

"Anderson, give me the box," he muttered and a few moments later the small silver and white object was resting in his hand. "Doctor T'Soni?" he asked while turning on his heel to face the asari scientist who was somewhat struggling to stay on her feet, the effects of their speedy extraction being far worse on her than on anyone else. "How confident are you in your ability to recover data from the geth device?"

"It's hardly my expertise, I'm an archeologist," she replied before she decided that the time to be on her feet hadn't arrived just yet and dropped back into her seat. "Surely you have more qualified experts onboard?" she added before pulling of her helmet.

"We're on a warship, not a research vessel," he countered. "I don't think any of these sailors are nearly as qualified to work with unfamiliar alien technology as an archeologist like yourself is." If the change in her expression and the fact that she rose to her feet almost instantly was anything to go by, his words hit the right kind of tone. "What do you need?" he asked.

"Space and my equipment."

"Can I leave her with you, Anderson?" the turian asked.

"Sure," the human nodded. "What are you going to do?"

"Talk to the captain."

* * *

 **Ten Minutes Later**

"What am I looking at?" Saren asked as he looked at the somewhat blurry image of the enormous vessel that had likely been what Lieutenant Slattery had meant when he had told them about the 'biggest god damn ship' he had ever seen. While it was hard to make sense of the craft, only a couple of cameras had caught a glance of it shortly before the emergency FTL jump that had allowed the Budapest to escape the geth armada, it had an almost animalistic look to it and dwarfed even the biggest of the geth vessels that had emerged alongside it.

"I know exactly as much as you do," the captain, who's arm was now covered in bandages instead of the white sleeve of his uniform, replied. "This is the only image we have of the thing and the best guess I can make is that it's their flagship."

"Their flagship?" the Spectre muttered. Sure, its coloration and shape looked vaguely geth-like but with the geth vaguely wasn't good enough. All their ships were nearly identical, only their scale and small details related to their roles making it possible to differentiate between anything ranging from fighters to dreadnoughts. Just like everything about them, it was a product of their synthetic nature. Ships designed by people looked different because the engineers who had drawn their plans had been different people, that wasn't the case for the geth, they thought as one and as such didn't diverge from a core concept as long as it remained efficient. Since esthetics could hardly become inefficient, the chance of this being a geth vessel was slim to non existant. "Very unlikely."

"What else could it be?" That was also a question he couldn't answer. The geth weren't exactly known for befriending other species and unless they had suffered a change of heart, set out to find a species not in contact with the Citadel Council and allied themselves with them, there simply wasn't a reason for a non-geth vessel to fly alongside a geth armada, let alone lead it. Saren leaned closer towards the screen and rested his hands against its edge, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. Even if it was a geth design, which again was almost certainly not the case, there was still something else that bothered him about it.

The size of the ship.

Faster-than-light travel as the galaxy knew it was based around Element Zero and the size of every ship was limited by the power of its drive core or rather the drive core's ability to lower the mass of the ship it was attached to. Therefore size, the factor that decided how big of a maingun dreadnoughs could have or how many soldiers and equipment troop transports could carry, was one of the most important things to consider when constructing a ship. The Destiny Ascension, the biggest ship in the galaxy, was already pushing the physical limit of what a state-of-the-art Eezo drive core could achieve and only the asari's unrivaled mastery of the mass effect, the one branch of science in which no one, not even the geth, could even hope to compare to them, had made its construction possible.

Yet here it was, a ship far bigger than the 'Pride of the Republics', heading a geth armada in spite of clearly not being a geth ship.

How was this possible?

What was he missing?

To say the realisation struck him like an ambush struck an unprepared foe would've been an understatement. For the first time in forever, he felt like he saw the right pieces of the picture he and Desolas had been trying to piece together all these years and he acted on it immediately.

"Captain, can your VIs turn this image into a hologram?" he muttered as he brought up his omni-tool and began to search for an old file.

"Of course. Do you want me to prepare the briefing room for you?"

"Yes," the Spectre replied, already well on his way towards the exit of the bridge,

Could it be?

Unless his memory was failing him, he had to be right.

Saren stepped into the darkened room and already found it to be engulfed in blue light, a holographic version of the blurry ship floating just above the projector in front of him. The Spectre, already feeling confirmed in his suspicion upon getting a closer look at the craft, quickly connected his omni-tool to the device and uploaded the file he had been looking for, waiting for the next hologram to assemble itself next to the first and far blurrier one. When the process was done, Saren began to rotate, scale and move the file he had uploaded, determined to find where his own piece fit into the larger puzzle he had just been given. Then, after nearly fifteen minutes, it was done and if it wouldn't have been for the inferior quality of the original puzzle, his piece, a hologram of the Leviathan of Dis created by STG, would've been more than just a perfect match to the right mid-section of the unknown vessel that had led the geth fleet.

This vessel wasn't a geth ship and it wasn't part of an unknown species armada that had allied themselves with the geth.

No, it was something far worse than that.

This vessel was what the wreckage they had found on Jartar had originally looked like and this vessel was also a ship of the Harbinger's fleet.

Saren knew that he should've felt good about his success, he had after all just solved one of the bigger questions they had stumbled onto in the time ever since the had begun their investigation but instead of allowing himself to feel victorious for a moment, he let out a sigh. The same pattern that had manifested itself throughout their entire investigation had appeared once more, this time directly in front of his eyes. Harper really had been accurate in that regard. Every time they answered one question, two new ones appeared in its place. Leaning against the table, the turian Spectre stared at the first image of his enemy that wasn't based around the horribly twisted image of a sentient species.

So this was what their enemy was capable of, building ships of impossible size and striking impossible alliances.

How could Desolas hope to fight this?

Another sigh.

He knew the answer to that question and unless he found a way to give his brother a fighting chance, it would be the last answer they'd ever get.

* * *

 **Three Days Later, HSASV Budapest, Enroute to the Citadel**

It wasn't his inner biological clock that woke him, neither was it the sound of alarms or the shouting of officers. No, it was the continuous sound of somebody politely knocking on the door of his cabin that interrupted his night and claimed what little sleep Saren got these days. If he had been a deep sleeper, something no Blackwatch operative could claim to be, he wouldn't even have heard it to begin with but since he wasn't one, it was more than sufficient in waking him up. Groaning ever so slightly as he pushed himself from his bed, the Spectre walked over to the door, already suspecting who'd bother him at this time of the night with a knock as polite as this one. Since it certainly wouldn't be Anderson, the human Spectre was far louder than this if he wanted something from Saren, there was only really one option left.

"Doctor T'Soni," he greeted after the doors opened and his eyes quickly adapted to the bright lights now flooding into his darkened quarters. "How can I help you?"

"I'm done," the asari stated.

"You're done?" he repeated while suppressing a yawn. What was she talking about?

"I've finished the analysis of the geth device," the asari clarified what he really should've been able to guess.

"Right, of course," he said, suddenly far more awake.

"May I come in?"

"Yes, please," he replied while turning on the lights of the room, their glow once more stinging in his eyes for the couple of seconds it took them to adapt to the increased brightness. "What did you find?" he asked as he placed the pistol, which he always seemed to subconsciously grab when answering a door no matter where he was sleeping, back on the small desk beside his bunk.

"When I first tried to access the storage device, I assumed that I'd find nothing, either because I wouldn't understand what I was looking at or because the device followed the same purge protocols that geth platforms seem to engage upon being disabled," the asari began. He remembered hearing something like that before. It was one of the reasons why so little was known about the geth, they rarely if ever left things behind. "But this device seems to be different from other geth hardware."

"How so?"

"From what I was able to gather through my research on the subject, geth usually wipe their entire memory storage within the span of a couple of minutes before transferring themselves to the nearest Prime unit," the archeologist said as she gestured with her hands in ways that made Saren wonder if she needed the movements to formulate her own thoughts. "This wasn't the case here. Even though nearly an hour had passed between our disconnection of the device, I was able to terminate the geth programs within the device and stop them from wiping its entire memory."

"So these geth were slow then," he stated, halfway asking a question and halfway suggesting a theory.

"So it seems."

"Do you know why?" Not that he didn't appreciate it.

"The quarians you talked to mentioned that the geth operating beyond the Veil seem to be both smarter as individuals but less capable as a collective, correct?" He gave her a nod. "Then the best assumption I can make is that they only left behind a skeleton crew so to speak," the asari went on as she sat down in the chair next to him, folding her hands in her lap. "Perhaps they needed the bulk of their programs elsewhere or considered the site a low priority," she muttered as Saren looked at her, unsure of how a low priority sight would warrant the kind of naval attention it had gotten. "Anyways," she suddenly clapped her hands, returning to her point. "After I managed to stop the programs, I began trying to piece together the data fragments I was able to salvage from the device," it seemed like he wasn't the only one who had solved a puzzle then.

"Did you find anything?" the turian asked.

"While most of the data was corrupted beyond saving or simply missing too many fragments for me to make sense of," the asari replied, "I was able to figure out what they were hoping to find in the bunker or rather in it's network," she explained as her omni-tool appeared from her wrist, a set of what he simply assumed to be quarian numerals appearing between them. "They were looking for a map, a star chart to be precise, and something they called," T'Soni went on as the numbers on her omni-tool began to translate themselves into something he could actually read, presumably through the use of a translation software.

"A conduit?" he asked after reading the short request for a 'Location-Conduit' he was currently looking at. "And? Did they find it?"

"The map?" she asked. "Yes. But the conduit? I don't know for sure," Liara admitted. "That part of the data was already heavily corrupted by the time I managed to stop the purging protocols," the asari explained as she shook her head. "But I don't think they did. One fragment of the data suggests that the bunker's network simply kept showing them its circuit system in response to the question. It treated the request like a maintenance routine."

"It didn't know what they were talking about, did it?" Saren figured.

"That was my theory as well."

"So they got a fragment of their map but came up empty on the location of their conduit."

"Yes."

"Do we know where their map fragment leads?"

"I'm afraid not. If my reconstruction of their set of priorities is accurate, the details of the map were amongst the first files the geth programs within the device deleted," the asari sighed. "But there is something else you should know, something I'm not quite sure what to make of."

"What is it?" this was going to be good, wasn't it?

"Between their requests for the map and a conduit, the geth programs in the device communicated back and forth with what I assume to be some kind of forward observer or another geth unit that they kept up to date in regards to what they found," since that wasn't exactly unusual, Saren braced himself to hear whatever it had been that had managed to confuse the doctor. "And after they found the map, the observer thanked the programs for their service to the old machines."

"The old machines?" Saren didn't really know what to make of that either.

"Since it is likely lost in translation, let me explain," the scientist offered with a smile. Even though it should be obvious, at times it was easy to forget that the species of the galaxy spoke in vastly different languages and only translation implants allowed them to communicate this easily. "The way the geth talked about these old machines is the same way the quarians talk about their ancestors. The words they use carry a spiritual undertone."

"Are you saying the geth developed a religion?" the turian Spectre asked as he recalled the cult-like behaviour people who had been exposed to the artifacts they had found across the years had displayed. This memory, combined with his earlier findings in regards to the Leviathan of Dis and its similarity to the unknown ship that had headed geth armada, made the turian worried.

Very worried.

"I am saying that they might have adapted the believes of their creators to form their own culture ever since their isolation from the rest of the galaxy," the asari corrected. "The words and phrases they consciously chose to refer to these 'old machines' mirrors the quarian rhetoric of ancestor worship down to the 're AIs," Liara went on, "and while they might not be organic, they are sentient nonetheless. Nothing is keeping them from experiencing the same kind of social development our own cultures once went through. If they face situations similar to those that our people faced before outlining their believes, the idea of them forming a culture and developing their own version of a religion is not only likely, it's to be expected. Just like any organic civilization, the geth are influenced by the world around them."

"Philosophical questions aside," the turian sighed, "what about Nazara, did they ever mention that term in their transmissions?"

"No but it is possible that the word was used in one of the dialogues I wasn't able to salvage. Many of the transmissions between the device and the other geth were lost before I could stop the programs," the archeologist shook her head before her tone grew somewhat darker. "I am sorry that you didn't find what you were looking for, Agent Arterius."

"Don't apologize, you've been nothing but helpful," he retorted almost immediately. They might not have gotten Nazara and they might not even be any closer to finding what Saren was looking for, a way to win his brother's war, but they still had managed to gather a lot of useful intel, a lot of which had come form the hard drive the doctor had been able to salvage through a mixture of skill and luck.

"Still I-" whatever the asari was about to say was cut short when both their omni-tools began buzzing at the same time, his own being hailed through a frequency only a few people had access to.

"You should take this," he suggested as he saw just who was calling the doctor. "And so should I," he added as his eyes narrowed on the small text identifying the person that was trying to contact him.

"Councilor," he spoke just as Doctor T'Soni greeted her own caller with 'mother'.

"Agents Arterius and Anderson," it echoed through both omni-tools and presumably also through the one of his human colleague sleeping in the room next to him. "Report to me the moment you dock on the Citadel," a short pause. "And bring my daughter with you. We have to talk."

* * *

 _Codex: Translator Matrix_

 _Due to the vast difficulties language barriers created in the early days of galactic history, one of the first joint research ventures the Asari Republics and the Salarian Union spearheaded was a means to enable easy communication without the need of learning a vastly different language, a task that could consume a significant portion of the much shorter lived salarians' through decades of research and improved ever since, the product of this research project was a highly advanced VI interface capable of translating both speech and, as long as an optical input is present, writing without noticeable delay through accessing a continuously updated dictionary._

 _Although faced with initial starting difficulties, mostly due to both the vast number of asari and salarian languages in use during the time of their contact, the technology' only improved every time a new species came into contact with the rest of the galaxy, the fact that every government benefited from adding its own knowledge to the technology, encouraging both cooperation and swift development of the technology. Sometimes called the biggest example of what the denizens of the galaxy can actually achieve by working hand in hand with each other, the translator matrix takes many forms, be they implants, VIs or in the past, AIs and, if presented with the right circumstances, for example contact with another sufficiently advanced virtual intelligence, can create basic translation programs within minutes._

* * *

 **A/N: ... so... I'm late.. only by like a couple of days this time actually(ignoring that I originally wanted this and the chapter after it out before last year...)**

 **Speaking off.. Happy New Year mates!**

 **Alright, let's talk chapter 44.**

 **I know that I originally said that 44 would mark the end of Saren's arc in Season Two and the Season Two Finale as a whole (yes, I know it's weird that I structured Semper Vigilo in stories but that might be routed in my subconscious desire to one day get this shit filmed.. I know it won't happen but let me dream, I already know who'd play Redford!)**

 **Since this didn't happen and since this is hardly worthy of being called a season finale, not compared to the last one which was Kamarov trying to blow up Akuze (yes, the IFS still exists and is doing its thing, I just didn't want to break Saren's flow to mention them these last couple of chapters) the next chapter, 45, is probably going to be Season 2's finale .. which as you might recall is going to put every major character where they need to be once ME 1 begins, which will either be 46 or, if I do another 'interlude' chapter like I did last time, chapter 47.**

 **And while we're at it... I want to go out of my way to say something about next chapter right now. Chapter 45, or rather the finale of Season 2, is something I have both been looking forward to and dreaded ever since I finished the overall plot Semper Vigilo would have until the story of Mass Effect begins.**

 **This mixture of emotions is mostly caused because I suspect that a lot of you are going to like what happens and a lot of you... really, really won't.**

 **Season 2's finale is going to pay off all of the foreshadowing I did in regards to a couple of things up to now and yeah.**

 **No I already said enough, lets just ... I know that if I did a good job, most of you are going to either like it or at least lets say accept it and because I really want to do that good job, it might take me... some time to get there. Not foerever but possibly mroe than the one and a half/two weeks it usually takes me.**

 **I plan on making it longer, it's a finale after all and depending on how I feel, it will likely be the ONLY chapter that won't have a codex entry and possibly (although unlikely because I'll have a lot to say) no A/N.**

 **Alright, enough talking about 45 (hell I even said lets talk 44)**

 **So this chapter is basically a lot of set up, a lot of Liara, a lot of Saren, a bit of andersond and at the end a bit (a lot) of exposition dump... but I think I did a good job at hiding it.**

 **I also decided to play a bit with the translator weirdness that seems to be going on in ME, namely by making "Old machines" have some kind of religious undertone in the geth's/quarian's language, an idea I based around my general protrayal of the reapers and the fact that we see geth heretics praying around reaper artifacts in ME 1.**

 **Speaking of geth, if anyone thinks they behaved stupidly in this, just remember who headed their fleet. Sure, they played a bit of the idiotball over there but... you know what they say, fool-**

 **NO!**

 **I already said too much again!**

 **NO MORE OF THIS.**

 **Review and let me know what you think!**

 **(who caught that I used a line in this codex entry to excuse a lot of SV originally rather blunt dialogue? lel)**

 **For the record we're at 363 reviews, 591 favorites and 696 follows. ... (couldn't have made it 595 favorites for the esthetics, could you now?**

 **See you around next time.**


	45. Danger Close

**Chapter 45. Danger Close**

* * *

 **23\. August 2414 AD, Citadel, Office of Councilor Benezia**

The last two months of his life had been interesting to say the least. While he had always suspected that Saren was keeping something from him, he never would've dreamed that it would turn out to be something nearly as serious as the literal fate of the galaxy. Personally he had always assumed that the reason why the turian wasn't telling him what had been on his mind all this years, what had been responsible for him dropping off the radar for months at the time, was because he was part of some shady long-term operation that he knew Anderson wouldn't approve of, something that he'd rather keep to himself for the sake of their friendship.

To say he was surprised when it had turned out that Saren, the turian's brother and a bunch of other high-profile individuals, humans among them, had been trying to avoid what could possibly bring about the end of galactic civilization, would've been an understatement. In truth, David Anderson found himself overwhelmed by the things he was now aware off. Between these cybernetic 'husks', the artifacts, the enormous space ships or the chance of being turned into a pawn of the enigmatic figure behind all of them, the Harbinger, because of being around any of these things for only a moment too long, the former N7 still hadn't figured out what disturbed him the most.

No, that wasn't entirely true.

While all of these things were terrifying in their own right, there was no arguing in that, the thing that disturbed him the most was the fact that someone at some point had decided that all of this should be kept a closely guarded secret until further notice. Even though it wasn't a surprise that this was happening given Section 13's involvement, just about no one loved keeping secrets as much as the Intelligence Service's go-to problem solvers or, depending on the day, problem silencers, it still bothered him. He might've agreed to keep the secret for Saren's sake but that didn't make it right, it just meant that he was doing something he knew to be wrong.

While Anderson got that telling everyone just how screwed they actually were wasn't a good idea, he didn't see how keeping it a secret would help them either. If there were more of these Leviathans, which seemed more than likely, and if the geth were somehow in on their plan, which made sense given the fact that they had been flying side by side with one of them, they'd need every last ship and every last rifle the galaxy could offer to even stand a chance at winning. Keeping things quiet and only telling a select number of people what was going on was the surest way to not achieve that.

They needed to rally people, not keep them in the dark.

He let out a long sigh, which drew the attention of the other three people in the room, and reminded him that he had a whole other problem to take care of at the moment. After they had barely escaped the geth, Saren, Doctor T'Soni and he himself had been called by a very aggregated Councilor Benezia who had order them to return to the Citadel immediately, the reasons for which he could only guess. Was it the fact that they had dragged her daughter into a life-threatening situation or had the asari realised that the excuse they had given to the Council for heading into the Perseus Veil had been a lie? Both were equally viable in his opinion given the situation they were now in.

"Spectres are agents of the Council. They're selected from the best the galaxy has to offer and act as the first and last line of our defense. They get the most difficult assignments and face the most dangerous opponents," the councilor began as she folded her hands, looking at the three people sitting across her desk. "In order to achieve the task we give, they can act outside of the law and they recieve nearly complete operational freedom," a pause followed the brief summary of the speech every Spectre got upon his or her induction. "However nearly does not mean absolute," she clarified, giving them ample time to let the words sink in. "Spectres are still accountable for their actions and they're still expected to report their doings to the body they're sworn to serve, the Council," Councilor Benezia said before her eyes narrowed ever so and the diplomatic tone she had adopted up to now gave way to a far more serious one, "which is precisely why I'd like to hear from you why I was notified of your actions not through you personally but through the agent I sent after you when I heard that my daughter would be accompanying you on one of your missions."

Anderson got that mothers didn't like to put their children in danger but sending an agent, who had likely been another Spectre that the asari councilor kept on speed dial for instances such as this one, after your offspring seemed rather overbearing. While an argument could be made that being the daughter of a councilor put the doctor into particular danger when working with a Spectre, something told him that this was far from the first time Doctor T'Soni's mother had gone through such lengths to keep tabs on her.

"Mother I-" the younger asari began only to be shut down almost immediately.

"I was not talking to you, Liara," the councilor replied. "We will talk about your own transgressions at a later point." Anderson frowned at that. Apparently overbearingness was not a concept her mother was familiar with. "So, Agent Arterius, Agent Anderson," the older asari said after shutting her daughter down, "what was it that you were doing in the Perseus Veil?" Just like Saren had told him, Anderson stayed quiet. While a part of him wanted to scream at the councilor just what was out there, he knew that it wasn't his secret to tell, even if it would very likely get them off the hook.

"Conducting an investigation into a smuggler ring," the turian Spectre replied just as the asari councilor was about to repeat herself. If Anderson had to take a guess, Saren was stalling, which in turn raised the question just what it was that he was waiting for.

"I fail to see how such an investigation would require the attention of an archeologist such as my daughter," Councilor Benezia countered not a second after.

"The smugglers we tracked specialize in prothean artifacts," Saren lied nearly flawlessly, something Anderson had rarely see him do. He just hoped that his friend had something to back this story up, otherwise they'd be in for even more trouble than before. "Given your daughter's reputation and my own lack of expertise in the matter, I asked her to accompany me and Agent Anderson to help us with locating the source of their supply and shut them down for good."

"Setting aside the fact that there are different ways to identify prothean technology and its origin that don't involve my daughter," the older asari spoke in a tone that ,while still carrying the grace all matriarchs seemed to adapt over the years, was filled with pure skepticism. "Why didn't you feel the need to inform us of this situation earlier? Withholding prothean technology is a serious crime and any offenders should be reported at the first possible instance."

"I had reason to believe that every minute I spent not pursuing them would allow them to cause even more harm to a major undiscovered prothean site. It was also for this reason that I enlisted the help of Agent Anderson. Time was of the essence," he had to give it to the turian, for someone hailing from a species stereotypically associated with being too honest for their own good, Saren was a fantastic liar. "Furthermore I did not wish to offer an incomplete report to the council."

"Is this true, Agent Anderson?" the councilor asked to which he simply nodded. He wasn't an expert at reading facial expressions, especially not with aliens, but given the uncanny similarity between his own people and the asari, Anderson could tell that she wasn't buying any of what they were saying. "Very well. May I see your files in regards to this operation, Agent Arterius?"

As Saren was about to open his mouth, the door to Benezia's office came open, drawing the attention of the councilor, her daughter and, of course, the two Spectres.

"There won't be any need for that," the salarian councilor, Valern, said as he stepped into the office. "Agent Arterius was acting under my direct supervision," he began to explain. "And as far as I am concerned, you have already taken up more than enough of his time." So this was what Saren had been waiting for. The turian had mentioned that a high-ranking salarian was part of their operation but Anderson never would've guessed that it would be the councilor of all people. In retrospective, this explained a lot of things, namely why exactly a turian Spectre had been the go-to agent of the salarian councilor ever since he had entered office. If they were working together, Valern could cover for Saren every time he had to chase another lead. "Now unless you have anything to ask of Agent Arterius, I'd ask that you let him return to his assignment. It is after all a time sensitive one," the salarian added in a slightly slower version of the rapid speech his species was known to talk in.

"My apologizes Valern, I did not realise that Agent Arterius was acting under your authority," Benezia replied as she returned to her diplomatic tone as if a switch had been flicked in her. She wouldn't fool Anderson again. There was a whole other side to the councilor and he had just caught a glance of it. "You are of course free to go, agents," the asari gave them a smile. "I wish you continued success in your undertakings and thank you for your continued service to this council."

"Thank you, Benezia," Valern nodded as Anderson, Saren and the doctor began to rise from their seats. "I am certain all of this was just a misunderstanding."

"Of course," the asari spoke gracefully before they began to withdraw from the office one after another to follow the salarian. "May I offer a word of advice, Agents?" the asari councilor called after them a few moments later.

"Yes, Councilor?" Saren replied, stopping just as he and Anderson were about to leave the office

"Whatever insanity it is that the two of you are really invovled in," the asari spoke in a cold tone that deeply contrasted her entire image. "I suggest that you keep my daughter as far away from it as possible," a pause. "For your own sake."

"Is that a threat?" Anderson muttered in return, finally breaking his own silence.

"No, Agent Anderson," the asari councilor replied. "It's a promise."

This right here was exactly why he didn't like politicians.

* * *

 **A Few Minutes Later,** **2155 CE, Citadel, Office of Councilor Valern**

"Thanks for the assist," he said as he stepped into the room, briefly wondering what exactly had caused his salarian ally to barricade the balcony of his office with what appeared to be a heavy-duty armor panel taken straight from C-SEC's armory. He had known that STG trained its agents to always expect an attack but this seemed excessive, especially because councilor offices were supposed to be completely impenetrable for anyone not supposed to be inside of them in the first place. Under different circumstances, Saren might've asked for his reasoning and worried about Valern's mental state but right now, he had other priorities. By asking the salarian to come to their aid, he had most likely alerted Desolas to his less-than-official excursion, something he had been trying to avoid. While he had all intentions of sharing his findings with the rest of his group, he'd rather have done it on his own accord and under his own terms.

"Intervention was risky," the STG agent turned councilor replied. "Benezia will keep a close eye on us from here on out," Valern took a brief pause before looking at Anderson. "Contacted him to assist you?"

"Yes."

"Reliable?"

"Absolutely. I trust him with my life."

"Good," the salarian nodded. "Will need reliable allies if your suspicion is correct."

"It is," he was certain of it.

"Always assumed that there'd be more Leviathans," the salarian said as he sat down at his desk. "Hoped I'd be wrong," he admitted next. "Report mentioned geth?"

"Yes and by the looks of it they joined forces with the Harbinger," the turian replied.

"Complicates matters," Valern said as he placed his hand in front of his mouth, staring at his desk, likely lost in his own thoughts. "Before chances of victory were slim but existent, geth shift odds. Posses unknown number of ships and unrivaled production capabilities. Don't require rest, don't demand wages. Work until they run out of raw materials or break down," the salarian figured as he brought up his omni-tool while highlighting just one of the advantages their synthetic nature gave them. Although turian strategists had always assumed that a war with the geth could result in a Council victory, things like biotics and the self-imposed isolation of the synthetics giving a unified galaxy much needed strategic advantages they could use to counteract the geth's numerical superiority, Saren doubted that they could take on both the geth and whatever other nightmares the Harbinger's strategy included.

"We both know that it doesn't just complicate matters, Valern," Saren sighed in return as he dropped into one of the chairs and faced the salarian. "We're not going to win, not with the geth in the picture and not with more Leviathans out there," while he hadn't seen the vessel in action, it's size and the fact that the geth willingly followed it were more than enough to realise that it likely eclipsed every other warship the galaxy could muster.

"Agree that our odds are slim," Valern replied as he kept fumbling with his omni-tool. "Disagree that we are not going to win."

"Valern, please tell me you aren't being as stubborn as Desolas. We-"

"Not the one you have to convince," the councilor interrupted Saren before the turian realised that the projector behind him had turned on.

"Valern this is really a bad time," a familiar voice flanged through the room, sounding somewhat annoyed at first before clearly being surprised by who he was facing. "Saren?"

"Agent Anderson, Doctor T'Soni, suggest we step outside now," the salarian paused for a moment, giving Saren time to realise what he was trying to do. Getting up from the chair, which creaked as it was relieved of the combined weight of the turian and his armor, Saren turned around and faced the holographic projection of his brother, the dress uniform he was wearing indicating that he had been on the way to some sort of meeting.

"Desolas," the turian greeted, bracing himself for what would likely be one of the harshest talks he'd ever have with his brother.

"Saren," Desolas repeated, this time sounding less surprised. "You and Harper went behind my back," for a reason he was well aware of, that short statement stung worse than being shot. While they were siblings, the age gap between them and the almost complete absence of their father from their lives had meant that Desolas, the oldest child of their family, had always been more than just a brother to him. Whether it was the fact that he had been the one to drop him off to basic training or the fact that he was the one he could be completely sincere with, knowing that he had betrayed the trust of the one person he had always looked up hurt.

Badly.

"And for that I'm sorry," Saren said as he shook his head. "But I didn't have a choice. Your plan is not going to work."

"Harper said the same thing but the truth is that we always have a choice, Saren," his brother replied. "What were you thinking? We agreed that going after the artifacts is too dangerous."

"You know exactly what I was thinking. We need something to even the odds. You've seen the report, you know what's out there," the younger turian countered defiantly. "We are not going to win against that."

"So we don't even try to fight then?" Desolas eyes narrowed. "What do you propose we do, Saren? Wait for the Harbinger to butcher us?"

"No of course not!" he nearly shouted before catching himself. "But we can't fight him, at least not conventionally. Your plan?" he muttered, "it's not going to work."

"It's the only one we have," the older Arterius insisted. "Tell me, what else are we supposed to do? Sit by and watch while you stumble through empty ruins in the hopes of finding something? That's what we've been doing for years and by now its painfully obvious that it's not going to help us win either. Preparing ourselves to fight is the only thing we can do now."

"Desolas, your plan is suicide. You are not going to win this war," Saren answered in an angry tone. He was starting to sound like a broken record and he didn't like that one bit. Being stubborn really ran in the Arterius family, didn't it?

"Unless you've got an alternative, it's the only plan we have," his brother replied coldly and for a moment Saren couldn't argue with that. Besides further cementing just how terrible their situation actually was, his personal investigations hadn't produced anything. He hadn't found a critical weakness, learned anything about the true nature of the Harbinger or stumbled upon some kind of answer to the fact that the entire galaxy was at the stake of facing the same power that had wiped out the protheans, a civilization far more advanced than any of the ones currently inhabiting the known parts of space. His face grimaced as he reminded himself of that one fact he had been ignoring all this time. The protheans were the creators of the mass relays and the Citadel. Their technology was the basis for conventional space travel and as far as the scientific community could tell, they had dominated the galaxy as the sole spacefaring species of their time.

Yet they had evidently lost against the Harbinger.

So what chance did they even hope to stand?

"Saren, you can't let fear get the better of your judgment and you can't lose faith in our ability to win. The first step to victory is confidence," Desolas offered, sounding much more like a textbook on war than a reassuring older brother. All the lessons about strategy and tactics they had learned growing up wouldn't help them. They had been written with a conventional foe in mind back when no one ever would've dared to question the accepted version of galactic history because the evidence backing it up had been overwhelming. No matter how successful they had proven, they couldn't be applied to something that existed outside of the picture they had painted for themselves.

"Desolas-"

"I won't allow you to end up like Haliat because you tried to find a way to win my war," Saren knew exactly why Desolas sounded as desperate as he did right now. The death of the Blackwatch captain that had started this entire ordeal still weighed on his brother. While the Spectre wasn't certain why it seemed to burden him so much, a commander who had likely lost hundreds of soldiers over the course of his career, it evidently did.

"I'm not going to end up like him. I know exactly what I'm dealing with," the danger of this entire 'indoctrination' process was really not all that hard to understand.

"No you don't. You think you know what you're dealing with but you don't. None of us know what we're dealing with," Desolas paused for a moment as his mandibles clicked in confusion, an expression one rarely saw on the face of any turian general. "I know this won't be easy for you but from here on out you have to promise me to stay away from this."

He knew where Desolas was going and there was simply no way he'd agree to this.

"After Tunea-Prime, you asked me for my help so that's what I did, I helped you. I did everything you asked me to do, followed every order you gave, went wherever you asked me to go, backed your every decision and now this is how it's supposed to end? With you telling me to just sit by and watch?" the anger he had felt earlier finally managed to break through the barrier Saren had put up to keep it out, manifesting itself in a snarl all the while he walked over to the projector itself. "Spirits, Desolas. You know me better than this."

"Saren, please listen to me," his brother began as the turian Spectre placed his hand over the power button of the device. Desolas really didn't recognize the flaws in his plan, either because he refused to or because he genuinely was incapable of seeing them. Harper had been right, his judgment was clouded. But in spite of that a part of what he had said, namely that they didn't have another plan, had been painfully accurate. He'd have to work on that. Whether it was finding a way to make Desolas' plan work or by finding a way to survive what's to come, he'd do it.

He simply had to.

"I'm sorry but I can't give you that promise," he said before pushing his finger down, causing the holographic image to collapse on itself. As the last pixels disappeared into thin air, Saren walked out of the office without another word, answering neither the questions of Valern or the doctor, who had been waiting outside, nor the omni-tool call from his brother that followed not a minute later. Instead Saren walked away from all of it, only registering the echo of Anderson's footsteps following him towards the Spectre Office.

* * *

 **24\. August 2414, Cronos Station**

As he idly read over the HSAIS report on the most recent IFS activities within the outskirts of human territories, which among others seemed to include a recruitment campaign on a scale they hadn't seen since shorty before Kamarov's attack on Arcturus and rumors about yet another officer that had served during the Skyllian Blitz joining the ranks of the separatists, his mind began to drift to the actual problem at hand. His joint effort with Agent Arterius certainly hadn't gone like he had planned it to. While facing off in a verbal sparring match against an angry turian general wasn't the hardest thing he ever had to do, Jack Harper couldn't deny that it hadn't been his intention to ever let things get to this point. He understood just what had set General Arterius off and he understood why Tao had backed the turian's stance, his former partner had always been the more cautious one of them and he couldn't fault him one bit for wanting to stay as far away from something that could compromise them as possible.

But just because he understood their reasons, didn't mean that they were right. Harper put down the tablet he had been reading on up to now and turned in his chair, taking in the somewhat blurred hologram originating from the black floor tiles his entire office was built on, tracing the visible details with his eyes in a vain attempt to spot something he had missed in the last two dozen times he had looked at the thing in the last two hours but again coming up empty. Realising the pointlessness of his current endeavor, the director of Cerberus sighed and placed a cigarette in his mouth, the familiar habit calming him ever so slightly. While any outside observer would be hard pressed to tell that something was going on, the most recent developments had deepy shook Harper by further confirming his personal doubts.

Previously his assessment of their odds had been that they wouldn't be victorious unless they found some sort of flaw in the Harbinger's plan that they could exploit or managed to come up with a strategy that could make up for the fact that their opponent not only held most of the cards but could also counter whatever other tricks he might have up his sleeve. This assessment had been rendered invalid the moment he had finished reading Agent Arterius' report. Whatever advantage he had hoped to find would likely be rendered insignificant now that the possibility of the geth striking an alliance with their foe had been revealed. Even if they by some miracle found a fatal flaw in the Harbinger's plot, the numbers of the geth likely wouldn't allow them to exploit it.

While that alone would already be enough to trouble anyone, the prospect of facing off against geth wasn't the only thing weighing on his mind right now. There was something else, something far more troubling, something that did more than just worry Harper.

Ever since they had started to work together, their group of allies had worked under the assumption that the Harbinger's attack would be imminent, an assumption that had never been proven to be correct. At least until now. While General Arterius had been furious at him during their most recent conversation, they had agreed on one thing during the hour they had spent arguing. The appearance of another Leviathan and its apparent alliance with the geth marked the final step in whatever plan the Harbinger had drawn up for the galaxy. Before last week their enemy had either worked through proxy agents that had fallen to his 'indoctrination' or relied on artifacts like Object Omnicron or Object Theta to subtly influence things to his desire, never actually committing any of his assets to the battlefield. Subtlety and intrigue had been his weapon of choice. Not anymore. The fact that the Harbinger was now willing to put a part of his forces, even if it was just one ship, out there for them to see meant that he no longer needed to be subtle about things and that his strategy had reached the point where his next step would mark the beginning of his actual assault on the galaxy, likely aiming to repeat the fate of the protheans.

They were running out of time, now more than ever before.

Placing the cigarette into the small ashtray to his left, Harper pressed the palm of his hand over his face. What else was there that he could do? Cerberus had searched far and wide and the only thing his operatives seemed to find were empty ruins, or as in the case of Akuze, their own doom. Nothing the protheans had left behind had given them answers and their only significant discoveries had turned out to be far too dangerous to study.

No, that wasn't entirely accurate.

The search of Agent Arterius had turned up something beside the first depiction of a fully functional Leviathan ship. With the help of Doctor T'Soni, who they had decided not to contact until further notice due to the particular interest her mother, the asari councilor, had taken into her relation to them, Arterius had recovered a small fragment of data from a geth hard drive, a fragment that told them what the geth were searching for.

The Conduit.

What was that supposed to be?

He knew the meaning of the word, a conduit was something through which something else could pass through to reach its destination, but that could be just about anything and it gave little to no indication as to why the geth had taken interest into it. Harper frowned as he reached for his cigarette, its tip glowing noticeably brighter as he inhaled a breath of smoke. Had he seriously became desperate enough to believe that he could get into the mind of a networked AI collective? He was good, but not that good. No one was that good.

But then again, maybe no one had to be that good.

Another thought crossed his mind, their fading chances of coming up with another solution overwriting the arguments that had previously spoken against it. His time in Section 13 had taught Jack Harper a lot of things, most of which had shown him sides of his own character and humanity he could've very well lived without ever seeing. He had learned a number of questionable skills and employed all of them more times than he could count for what his superiors had always called the 'greater good', paying no mind to any personal values of his own whenever he was called to action. Setting aside the moral issues of his career, something he had come to terms with long ago, one of the lessons he had learned early on came back to him, handing him a possible solution to the problem at hand.

Never ignore an option, no matter how impossible it seems.

Reaching for the tablet at his side and bringing up the set of waypoints Agent Arterius had retrieved from the Migrant Fleet, he didn't spare more than a single second to consider the risk that was attached to them or the consequences it would create when Tao inevitably heard about him once more defying what their allies had agreed on. They were running out of time and the last thing they could afford to do was to ignore a lead. As he pressed a button on the terminal, the alien ship in front of him vanished, being replaced by a much smaller but in his own opinion not a single bit less impressive feat of engineering. After tracing the outlines of this craft, this time not to find a weakness but simply to admire what the combined ingenuity of human and turian scientists could produce, he opened a channel to the head of Cerberus' military operations.

"Holderman, I need you to relay a message to Arcturus Command," right about now he was glad that Tao had decided to let Goyle in on their secret. If he attached the right kind of file to this, she'd simply wave his request through whatever argument the Admiral of the Navy would bring against it. "Tell them that I'd like to borrow the Ain Jalut for an extended period of time."

"Yes, Sir."

It was about time to see just how useful these stealth vessels really could be. Between the bleeding edge surveillance equipment and its ability to avoid most forms of detection, the frigate stood the best chances at surviving the mission he was about to sent it on. If there was something at these coordinates, the Ain Jalut would find it and return to report on it.

That was if it didn't get blown up by the geth the moment it inevitably ran into them.

Grabbing a hold of the glass standing next to his ashtray, a choice of positioning that had resulted in the sullying of fantastic bourbon on far too many occasions, Harper took a sip of the beverage before once more beginning to shut down the voice in the back of his mind that asked him just how many more lives he'd be willing to put at risk for 'the sake of mankind'. Eventually, just like every other time he had faced this question, the faint promise that one day he'd no longer have to send others into the fray finally managed to silence it.

He dreaded the day when it wouldn't.

* * *

 **Two Months Later,** **2155 CE, Citadel, Spectre Office**

Managing the financial assets he had attained ever since the Spectre that had inducted him,Solik Raeka, had talked him into investing all kinds of businesses to fund his own operations, was one of the few things Saren hated about his job. But even though owning parts of companies like Binary Helix had made him far wealthier than a turian of his age and citizenship tier should be caused all kinds of bureaucratic work, he had become increasingly more grateful to have money he could fall back on now that he could no longer rely on the combined assets of the Hierarchy, STG and the HSA's to help him stop the Harbinger. Whether it was arranging swift transport to somewhere or paying the contractors he had hired to help with the increasing workload the Council was throwing at him, something he was certain Benezia was responsible for, credits were something that almost always proved useful.

As he was about to pay yet another private investigator to look for something that without the context of this particular operation would make little to no sense, after all what could anyone possibly hope to gain from knowing an elcor's favorite tailor, the vibration of his personal omni-tool caused him to pause. There was only a selected number of people who had access to his contact details and out of all of these people, even less would be able to contact him through a turian military channel. Saren hesitated. His last talk with the only person who'd have any business using a frequency like this one, his brother, hadn't ended well and ever since they had split ways over his personal hunt for something that could give them an edge against the Harbinger, the two hadn't spoken to each other. To say that they hadn't parted on good terms would be accurate.

Saren sighed.

If Desolas was reaching out for him, he should take the chance. As he waved his hand through the air, he steadied himself for whatever it was his brother wanted to say.

"Agent Arterius," a voice most definitely not belonging to his brother yet somehow very clearly using a turian military frequency spoke. "It has been a while." Even if the distortion, which he had recognized instantly, hadn't been a dead give away, there were only so many people who could claim to find a way into the Hierarchy's communication network and only one of them could claim that it 'had been a while'.

The Shadow Broker.

What did he want?

Quickly copying the identification of this channel so he'd be able to report it later on, Saren decided that there was only one way to find that out.

"I had hoped I'd never hear from you again," the turian said while getting up and making sure that no one would walk in on him talking to the Broker in the very heart of the Citadel's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch.

"Why? As I recall the last time our paths crossed ended with you gaining something you desired," even through whatever software it was that the Broker used to create his signature anonymity, Saren could hear the arrogance that accompanied that statement.

"The last time our paths crossed, I barely escaped a geth armada," Saren replied, intentionally leaving out the fact that Anderson and Doctor T'Soni had been with him. "And contrary to what you promised, I didn't find Nazara," for some reason that caused the Broker to laugh darkly. "What's so funny?"

"Your believe of not finding Nazara is rooted in your inability to understand its nature," Spirits, he had always thought that his former human allies had enjoyed being cryptic."My information is always accurate. It is not my responsibility to account for your ignorance."

"Well in that case, why don't you enlighten me?"

"I did not go through the trouble of contacting you to offer answers to questions long since irrelevant," that really was a matter of perspective. "Tell me of your progress into our shared interest," Saren frowned. Of course the Broker wanted information.

"Now why would I do that?" the Spectre asked after deciding that he'd make the most out of this very undesired conversation. Truthfully his personal attempt to find a way to stop the Harbinger hadn't produced anything of significance yet. While he had managed to reestablish a link to Doctor T'Soni, the amount of contact he could have with her at the time was limited by how far he was willing to push his luck with Councilor Benezia. He knew that the asari was keeping a close eye on his every move, especially those directed at her daughter. And while Anderson was still committed to helping him and had began his own search, his duties as a Spectre and the lack of Valern's ability to cover for them had seen him sent to the far-end of hanar space, making it all the harder for them to link up.

"Because as before, I am still interested in seeing you succeed," the disembodied voice replied.

"And just like before, I am still not interested in making deals with you," Saren countered.

"Yet we both stand to gain from cooperating."

"How so?" He already had a suspicion. If their last encounter had made one thing clear, it had been that the Shadow Broker was at least somewhat aware of what he himself had been chasing for years.

"I already told you," the Broker began sounding almost annoyed."What you pursue is as much of a threat to me as it is to you. Neither of us-"

"Alright. I get the point," Saren sighed."Tell me what you want or I'm ending this call right here." He wasn't going to play that game, not with someone he despised as much as the Shadow Broker. For obvious reasons, that statement produced something that sounded strangely like an angry grunt. Could the Shadow Broker be a krogan?

No, krogan didn't make this kind of sound.

At least not in his experience.

"Following our last arrangement," there hadn't been any sort of arrangement between them as far as Saren was concerned,"I relocated more resources to the agents pursuing our shared interest and after a number of," the Broker paused for a second, "acceptable casualties," he didn't even sound remotely empathetic, "one of my agents managed to intercept a signal journeying across a series of systems in the Attican Traverse, systems I think you might be familiar with," at that moment a series of coordinates were received by his omni-tool, a small message informing him that the data was already present on its data storage and asking for his permission to overwrite the less recent ones.

The waypoints.

Of course the Shadow Broker would have little to no issue with sending some of his agents into certain death if it could offer valuable information. Between the possibilities he could offer to some and the leverage he held over others, the information dealer was never short on new replacement.

"In addition to intercepting the signal, my operative also managed to determine its point of origin before meeting his regrettable demise," the Broker went on. "I presume you are also familiar with the Inversio System?"

That name rang a bell.

The Inversio System was one of several sites the Hierarchy had considered as a potential staging point for an attack on the heart of batarian space, at least until it had become evident that its mass relay, a smaller secondary relay, only connected to two other locations due to damage it had sustained at the hands of a high-velocity impact some two hundred thousand years ago, which had permanently crippled its ability to connect to other parts of the relay network. If he wasn't mistaken, his ancestors had spent the better part of two decades trying to find a way to fix the ancient structure before opting to cut their losses and pick a different system for the sake of simplicity.

"I am," he replied sternly. " I assume that you're telling me all of this because you want me to take a look?" he didn't like how this sounded strangely like an arrangement.

"Yes."

"What's in it for you?" the turian Spectre asked in a cold tone. "And don't give me the same excuse you used last time. I know that you're not acting out of the goodness of your heart," potential galactic cataclysm or not, he didn't believe for one second that the Shadow Broker was acting solely because he wanted to prevent the Harbinger's success. When the Broker got involved, it was because he could gain something from it. It was just the kind of person he was, always looking for personal profit no matter the situation.

"I merely request one thing from you in exchange for this information," here it was. "I want access to whatever knowledge you discover in the Inversio System."

"Considering that you already told me what I want to know," Saren countered. "Why would I do that?"

"Because being my ally is far more useful than being my enemy. People who cross me or don't honor the deals they made with me," the Broker spoke as a low growl slipped through the voice distortion, "come to regret it swiftly."

"You seem to be under the impression that I am scared of you."

"And you seem to be under the impression that you can still afford to choose your allies based on moral principles."

With that, the call ended, leaving Saren in the very same situation he had been in the last time the Shadow Broker had given him a much needed lead. His first instinct was to call Anderson but not only was the former N7 still stuck on what he, being a turian, considered to be an incredibly inhospitable place, his people weren't exactly known for being excellent swimmers or swimmers at all for that matter, he also didn't have a warship at the ready. For this reason, he punched in the frequency of the one other person he considered to be both capable of helping him and willing to do so.

* * *

 **28\. October 2414, Cronos Station**

"And you double checked this?" Harper muttered as he looked at the tablet, its artificial bluish shine clashing with the dampened white of Anadius' sunlight.

"I had the task force triple check it," the woman replied from behind him, the distinctive accent in her voice betraying that she, just like himself, hailed from Earth. "And after that I tracked down its source and triple checked it myself. The intel is accurate. After being dishonorably discharged, Okuda got mixed up with the Broker, who worked with him right until he figured out what it was that he had been doing before entering the information business."

"I assume you pulled his file?" he asked.

"Of course I did."

"What does HSAIS say about him?" Harper asked, "Besides the obvious," he added as he recalled how the former intelligence officer had barely avoided being trialed and incarcerated for espionage and treason.

"Not much really. They jus-"

"Hold that thought, Ms. Lawson," Harper interrupted as a buzzing informed him of an incoming call. As he recognized who the caller was, he turned around in his chair to look at the raven haired woman. "I'm afraid we'll have to reschedule. Can I trust you to help coordinate with HSAIS?"

The nod he received merely confirmed what he already knew. This matter was in competent hands.

"I have to say, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again," Harper began as he got up from his chair and walked over to the life-sized projection of the turian Spectre, not quite seeing eye to eye with him. "Especially not after I caused such a rift between you and your brother," he recalled the unfortunate consequence of the last time he and the younger Arterius had spoken.

"As I recall it was Desolas' decision to cut me off, not yours," the turian replied as he folded his hands behind his back. "I need one of your ships," he added, coming right down to business. This was one of the things he had always liked about the Spectre. He didn't talk around things, he acted.

"What for?"

"I have another lead and a warship could come in useful while I investigate it."

"It's from the Shadow Broker, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"What did he find?"

"The source of a sign-"

"A signal traveling across the waypoints?" Harper asked as he immediately recalled what he had read about moments before one of his senior operatives had come bursting through the door with a new discovery of Task Force Lightbringer, the group of HSAIS and Cerberus operatives tasked with tracking down the Shadow Broker and permanently eliminating him as a danger to the HSA.

"Exactly. Can I take it that you found it as well?"

"One of our ships managed to pick it up but we weren't able to locate its point of origin."

"Well, the Broker did just that."

"Are you still on the Citadel?" Harper asked quickly.

"Yes," the turian replied without a pause.

"When can you depart?" there wasn't much else they needed to discuss. The two of them had already come to the unspoken agreement that Harper would help him the moment it became evident that the both had something the other needed. This was how things were done in their line of work.

"As soon as you can pick me up," the turian replied. "I have to say, I figured you'd need more convincing to not just send your own people."

"The past has shown that you've had remarkable success when put into unknown situations. I don't know why but you are extraordinarily talented at producing impressive results from little to no intel," the human reasoned with a shrug, "and it's precisely that talent that is required for a mission like this to be successful."

"Fair enough."

* * *

 **Four Days Later,** **2155 CE, HSASV Budapest** **, En Route to the Inversio System**

"Sir, the probe passed through the relay without incident. No geth forces detected nearby."

"Understood," the captain of the ship he had already worked with on several occasion spoke. "Alright. Helmsman, take us through," he ordered after taking a seat in his chair.

"All systems green, beginning approach run," the helmsman of the cruiser murmured as the human ship began to gain on the giant construct in front of it. He really didn't like the idea of doing this without Anderson but waiting for him to reach the Citadel just hadn't been an option. Due to the dispersion of relays within in hanar space, it would've taken him the better part of two weeks to rendezvous with him, if he could've found a reason to depart from his assignment in the first place.

"Hitting the relay in three, two, one," the moment the human had finished his count a flash of blue erupted at the tip of the cruiser before it was flung across space, crossing an impossibly large distance in an instant. "Thrusters and navigation are green, scan protocols running. All systems in the clear," the helmsman summarized. "Drift just below seven thousand.

"Good work," the captain of the ship nodded. "Anything on the scanners yet?"

"Planets, asteroids, some bigger pieces of debris and a large construct on the far-side of the bigger gas giant," another crew member replied.

"Is it the source of the signal?" the captain asked as he was about to turn to the junior officer that had spoken up.

"Unlikely," Saren injected as he remembered the file he had pulled on the system. "Check again. Your construct should be an old refueling station of my people," he elaborated. "The deconstruction of its frame was deemed unfeasible by the navy when they pulled out of the system," he explained as the captain turned to him instead with a raised eyebrow.

He got the surprise. Cases like this one directly contradicted the image people usually had of his people. While turians were generally associated with effectiveness and austerity, anyone who took a closer look at certain portions of the galaxy would realise that its massive budget had made the Hierarchy's military surprisingly lenient in regards to how many facilities they had left unattended once they had outlived their usefulness. Whether it were old combat outposts constructed during the turian march on Tuchanka, listening bases aimed at the Perseus Veil in the wake of the Geth War or supply stations like the one in the Inversio System that would've supported an assault on batarian space, one didn't have to look all too far to find the empty shells of turian bases stripped of everything but their facade and most basic systems.

Suddenly a dark realisation crossed his mind. If they didn't manage to stop the Harbinger, perhaps his people would one day fulfill the role the protheans had filled for the current denizens of the galaxy for whoever may come after them. Even though they were the subject of a lot of jokes at the hands of combat personal, the Engineer Corps did built to last.

"Anything else?"

"Not that I can-" the human interrupted himself. "Wait, there is something else on the medium range sensors. I'm picking up a faint signal from the smaller gas giant," he paused. "It shares several similarities with the original one."

"The geth think they can hide from us behind some clouds?" the captain muttered. "Let's prove them wrong. Helmsman, plot a course to that location. It's time we figure out what sent that signal. All hands, prepare action stations"

"Yes, Sir," the man in charge of piloting the vessel replied before it began to accelerate away from the relay.

"Lieutenant, talk to me, what are we looking at?"

"The source of the signal seems to be an immobile structure floating in the upper layer of the gas giant's atmosphere. It appears intact but I can't get an exact read on its size or composition, there's just too much backscatter," the woman the officer had addressed replied.

"Well, give me a rough estimation."

"It could be anywhere from a couple hundred meters to several kilometers."

"Was this here when your people built that station of yours?" the officer asked Saren.

"If it was they weren't aware of it," this was definitely something the geth had put here. There was no way the Hierarchy would fail to mention that a space station of unknown origin resided in the same system they intended to use as a staging point for an invasion of batarian space.

"Understood. Lieutenant, can we reach it without getting crushed?"

"The pressure itself shouldn't be an issue for the shuttles but that atmospheric storm could give us a load of trouble," the younger officer explained. "But even then there's no way to know if it's accessible."

"The only way we'll find that out is if we take a closer look," Saren spoke.

"Do you want me to ready a strike team?" The ranking Cerberus officer asked next to him, once more going along with his arguably risky plan without question.

"Yes," if he couldn't have Anderson, he'd take whatever other backup they could offer. Even though it had been some time since he had worked with a team, Spectres by their nature rarely worked with more than one other operative, he'd be glad for every help he could get. After all, chances were that they'd stumble into a small army of geth. "Tell them to meet me in the hangar."

* * *

 **Eight Minutes Later, Orbit of Inversio Five**

"Don't bother, you won't see shit. Clouds are far to dense," one of the human operatives said as his comrade was about to lean closer to the viewing screen, turning away just as a red surge of electricity, likely a product of the encroaching storm, shot past it, allowing the occupants to catch a brief glance at the shuttle flying beside them.

"You were saying?"

"Cut the chatter," Lieutenant Slattery, the team leader who had already been tasked with assisting him during his last stay on the Budapest, ordered with a sharp tone before returning his attention to the weapon in his hand, inspecting it for a final time.

In a way deploying with a group of operatives like this one triggered a sense of nostalgia in Saren. While they were more talkative than their turian counterparts and wore white instead of black, their behaviour just before leaving the shuttle was pleasantly familiar. Last minute checks, some relaxed banter to ease the edge, it all reminded him of the time when he had still been a 'regular', if one could be bothered to call either the Cabal Corps or Blackwatch regulars, soldier in the turian military.

"Thirty seconds. I might be wrong since I'm basically flying blind right now, but on the scanners it looks like there's some kind of opening up ahead. I'll see if I can land there," the shuttle pilot called as Saren balanced his trusty Phaeston rifle in his hands, making sure that the disruptive ammo mod he had procured in the event of ever facing off against the geth, the likely creators of this station, was working as intended. Due to their synthetic nature, a weapon modified with this particular ammunition would do far more than just disable their kinetic barriers more quickly.

"Budapest, this is Strike-Lead. We're about to try and board the structure. How copy? Over," the Cerberus lieutenant asked, his voice ringing through Saren's helmet thanks to being tapped into their communications netowrk.

"Go-py. Strike-Lead," a reply came back to them.

"Great. Storm's messing with our comms," the man sighed, apparently familiar with the problem. "Budapest, we've got reception issues. Adjust your signal strength. Over."

"Copy that, Strike-Lead. We'll stand by for an update once you enter the structure. Budapest over and out."

"You'd think they'd eventually get us some decent comm equipment," another Cerberus operative, clad in the same heavy, white set of armor as the rest of the team, muttered through the squad-intercom.

"You know how it is, Amjad, only palas, flyboys and the navy get to play with the new toys," the lieutenant offered.

"Aren't we part of the navy?" the man replied. Saren had been wondering about that himself. In spite of closely working with the black-ops unit on several occasions, he didn't really know all that much about Cerberus' actual assignment. They obviously maintained naval assets but at the same time a lot of their missions seemed to be more in line with what TNI's field teams did, which in itself was strange given that he knew of the existence of the covert operatives of the HSA's actual intelligence service, HSAIS.

"We're not part of anything. Black-ops don't appear on the budget. We make due with what we have. No matter the obstacle, no matter the opposition."

"Roger that."

"Lieutenant, I got good news and I got bad news," the pilot suddenly said.

"Good first, obviously."

"The good news is that you can get out without being blown away by the storm. Landing site is mostly closed off."

"And the bad?"

"Well, we are kind of flying into the damn thing and unless the geth forgot to close this part up whenever they built it, somebody opened the door for us." Saren didn't like the sound of that.

"Great, so we're flying into an ambush," one of the operatives remarked.

"That's assuming it's a geth structure," Lieutenant Slattery offered. "The last one wasn't, was it?" he asked as he nodded towards Saren.

"No, it wasn't," the Spectre replied, keeping the fact that it simply had to be a geth structure because it hadn't been around the last time turian forces had been in the system to himself for now, not only because there was no point in unnerving his allies but also because there was still a chance that someone who wasn't a geth had built it in the time between the turian withdrawal and his own arrival.

"Five seconds," the pilot spoke just as the thick clouds that had obstructed their view earlier vanished in favour of a darkened, empty hangar. "Haven't been shot down yet," he added, pointing out the obvious. "Alright. Green-light, go," the pilot spoke as the shuttle touched down in accordance to their plan. Given the storm it had been decided that unlike usually, their rides would stick around and wait for them to come back.

"Place looks desolate," one human noted.

"Damn right it does."

"Well at least we're not going to suffocate anytime soon. Picking up a breathable atmosphere," a third spoke as Saren's own HUD informed him of the same thing.

"Why would the geth need an atmosphere? They don't have lungs."

"Beats me, maybe for organic prisoners?"

"Since when do geth take prisoners?"

"Alright, enough guess work. Jefferson, Capo, stay with the shuttles. The rest of you, fan out two by two and find us a way out of here," the lieutenant ordered as Saren looked around him, the green filter of his night vision equipment allowing him to inspect the tall, empty hall they had landed in. "Amjad, you're with the Spectre."

"Copy that," the operative said before falling in line next to the turian, following his every step.

"Budapest, this is Strike-Lead, we're in. Beginning our search now. Over."

"Understood. Happy hunting down there, Strike-Lead. Budapest out."

At least they still had comms.

"Shouldn't we be hearing the storm?" one of soldiers muttered as Saren eyed one of the support beams and noticed its strange shape, wondering just what the reason behind its apparent flexibility was.

"Probably some kind of audio dampeners," another offered.

"Why would the geth install audio dampeners? They don't have ears either," the first one pointed out just as a loud metallic noise echoed through the hall, drawing Saren's attention to the way they had come just in time to see their entrance close itself. With the hatch closed off, they were officially stuck.

"Budapest, this is Strike-lead again, our exit just closed, over," he heard over his helmet radio. "Budapest, come in," Lieutenant Slattery repeated after not getting a reply. "Great."

And of course now their comms were gone.

"Guess we're not getting out of here anytime soon," Amjad muttered before he and Saren kept walking forward, the latter distinctively aware of his instincts telling him that something was off. He couldn't pinpoint what it was but something about this place made him slightly paranoid. He shook his head in an attempt to shake the feeling and figure out what was putting him off. It definitely wasn't the dark or the prospect of an ambush, that much was for certain. While there was little room for colour, everything being displayed in varying shades of green, his night vision equipment allowed him to see perfectly fine and assure him that besides the two shuttles, the only other thing within the hangar were the strange support beams, which in retrospective were definitely responsible for closing their entrance, and seemingly random tubular structures attached to the walls next to them.

This certainly wasn't what he had imagined the interior of a geth ship to look like. Granted, just like almost everybody else in the galaxy, he had never actually been inside of one, most encounters with the geth in the last two and a half centuries had ended as quickly as either side could kill or escape the other, but he still had figured it'd be less spacious.

"LT, I think I've got a door," a human spoke up.

"You think?"

"Well for all I know it's an airlock waiting to suck us outside."

"Copy that. Wait one, I'll be right with you," Slattery spoke as Saren began to make his way towards the soldier as well, his brief look around the hangar indicating that there was nothing of interest around here. Throwing a last glance towards the now closed entrance, he began to wonder just how they'd actually get out of here until telling himself to focus on what he could work on right now, finding out what the purpose of this station was and from where exactly it had sent the signal. He figured that if there was a way out of here, they'd find it in the same command center that had been used to sent the signal.

"Can you open it?" he heard as he and his human escort came to a halt in front of the dark-green wall, only a very close look allowing him to see where the circular door would retract into the wall. The operative who had found this had good eyes, he'd give him that.

"I don't know, I'm not seeing a panel," a human, who's omni-tool was casting a faint orange light onto the now revealed to be reflective material of the door, said while running some kind of diagnostic scan and receiving nothing but a red-flashing error message.

"We could always force it open," Amjad offered. "What? I don't see you having a better idea," he added as the human kneeling in front of the door looked up to him.

"I mean it could work," Lieutenant Slattery shrugged next to him while looking at Saren. "Agent Arterius?"

"Since I don't see a way around it, I think force is our only option," the turian replied with a shrug before a Cerberus operative stepped past him, holding a small cylinder in his hand. However when he was about to place it on the door's surface, resting his other hand close to its center, the circular metal came apart, revealing a long, empty corridor in front of them.

"What the hell?" the human exclaimed after regaining his balance, the sudden disappearance of the wall in front of him almost causing him to stumble forward.

"Guess you found the lock after all, Deeks," the lieutenant reasoned.

"No, Sir, he didn't. I already tried that before and it didn't work," the kneeling human replied, audibly confused.

"Well, he obviously did something right," Amjad injected. "Although I have to say, this doesn't look like much of an improvement," he added while aiming his rifle down the corridor.

"You can say that again, talk about exposed. One good shooter and we're minced."

"Just like Torfan then, aye?" another Cerberus operative chuckled darkly.

"I'll take point. Stay close behind me," Saren finally spoke up before stepping into the corridor, confident that his biotic barriers, reinforced shields and armor would give him more than enough time to take care of any potential ambushers that thought he could get the drop on them in the narrow pathway up ahead. Although he knew that it was a strange thing to say given the situation they were in, it was nice to work with a team again. When he had first become a Spectre, their tendencies to work alone had been one of his biggest issues, his background in Blackwatch, a unit that thrived on team work, making it all the harder for him to adjust. Maybe it was just the turian in him but there was just something calming about knowing that there were other people with him to watch his back at every corner.

"Budapest, if you're reading this, we're heading deeper into the station. Strike-Lead out," Slattery muttered as the Cerberus team fell in behind him, putting their faith and potentially their lives into his hands. "Alright people, stay sharp. I don't like this," he added, this time over the squad intercom.

"Think this place even has power? I mean all the lights are out but even geth need lights, right?"

"Damned if I know. Their heads look like flashlights to me, so there's that."

"So you're saying they don't need lig-" Amjad began only to interrupt himself. "Hold up," he said, causing all of them to stop. "Did you hear that?" he suddenly spoke, immediately sounding professional, while training his rifle on the next circular door. "There it is again," he said just after Saren had focused on any apparent noise only to come up empty.

"You're imagining things, man," another human, who like Saren hadn't picked up anything, spoke. "The dark getting to you?" he added, causing Amjad to smack the side of his helmet a couple of times in an attempt to either clear his mind or fix his audio filters.

"We should keep moving," Saren finally suggest and after receiving a nod from their lieutenant, the group once more began to advance forward right until coming face to face with another circular barrier. Remembering where the demolition specialist had placed his hand before, Saren attempted to mirror the gesture, pressing his palm into the center of the door with the expectation that it would open. Yet much to his surprise, nothing happened.

"Deeks, you're up again," Slattery spoke as he too realised the problem. "Everybody else, clear the blast zone."

"Alright let's see," the human muttered, priming the magnetic charge with a press of his thumb and taking a couple of steps back. "Fire in the-" he began only for the doors to open up, causing the explosive to harmlessly drop to the floor. "Seriously? What the fuck is going on here, LT?" Deeks asked as he picked up the charge and swiftly disarmed it again.

"Somebody's watching us," the human said and Saren found himself agreeing as he stared down another corridor, spotting a bent and several more doors lining the walls on either side up ahead.

"And they're leading us somewhere," the Spectre added as he noted a sense of worry emerging from his stomach. His instincts were practically screaming at him to turn around but as things were, their exit was closed. The only thing they could do right now was figure out who was leading them through this facility and force them to let them out again. Spirits, he really would've appreciated having Anderson with him right about now. This whole situation was shaping up into one of the most obvious ambushes he had ever seen and there was no one he'd rather have beside him.

"Capo, lock down the shuttles. We might not be alone in here. Over," the lieutenant spoke into his radio before Saren once more took point.

"Copy that, Sir," one of the two humans who had stayed behind with the pilots replied a few moments later, an eery silence settling after their transmission had passed, only the sounds of the groups' footsteps echoing through the corridors.

"Try the doors as you pass them," Saren instructed as he passed by the first of the circular constructs, pushing his hand into the center of the frame without producing a result. Even if everything suggested that they were being lead somewhere, he still couldn't entirely rule out two strange coincidences. They were better of like this.

"I think mine just hummed," Amjad observed as they passed around the bend, staring at yet another long corridor ending in the same fashion of the one they just cleared.

"It's not the door, man, it's this entire place that's humming," Deeks reasoned. "Maybe it's the engines?"

"I'm not hearing any humming," their lieutenant offered and again, Saren found himself agreeing. The footsteps and their occasional chatter were the only sounds he could make out. While he didn't know a lot about Cerberus, he knew that all of the operatives had previously served in some kind of special forces unit and from his personal experience with special forces, Saren knew that they weren't the people who allowed their minds to play games on them for no reason other than paranoia. They were trained to be in control of themselves yet evidently, something was putting them off.

It was this place.

He could feel it as well.

"We should pick up our pac-" he began as a door to his right opened, causing him to spin around and aim his Phaeston down the small room it lead into. For a moment, it felt like he saw something, a shadowy figure moving in the surprisingly dark corner at the far end of the room, but before he could go on to investigate, the circular door shot closed again, almost crushing the tip of his rifle in the process, only his fast reflexes allowing him to pull it back in time. "False alert."

"I swear to god, if I get my fingers on the guy who's in control of this place, I will," Amjad muttered angrily as the sound of a door closing in the distance echoed through their corridor, overshadowing their footsteps for a second. The last time one of these doors had closed, it hadn't been nearly this loud. What was going on here? "That was our way back, wasn't it?"

"Don't worry. If it comes down to it, I got more than enough charges to get us out of here." Deeks shrugged as they did the only thing they could, follow the path and try every door they passed. He wasn't entirely sure how long they followed the seemingly random corridors but he was distinctively aware of feeling like he had lost at least a few minutes here and there.

What was going on?

"Capo, we just got locked out. Somebody's messing with us. Watch your backs," Slattery radioed as Saren shifted his rifle around the next bend, his finger instinctively brushing against the Phaeston's trigger when he spotted a shape down the corridor, blending into the wall not a moment after he had centered his crosshair over its now absent form. "Capo, you there?" the lieutenant asked again. "Jefferson, come in. I'm not reaching Capo. Everything alright on your end?"

No response.

"Shit," the officer cursed under his breath. Given their growing suspicion, Saren assumed that both he and Slattery had come to the same conclusion about the reason for their absence. Whoever was watching them, had preyed on the isolated members of their team and cut of their extraction faster than they could report on their assault.

"Contact!" it suddenly echoed behind them. Saren turned around just as a burst of gunfire shot through the corridor, the rounds of the weapon bouncing of the empty wall the human had aimed for and drilling themselves into the floor.

"What the hell are you talking about?" another human called, visibly aggregated. "There's nothing the-" he began before lifting his own rifle, almost repeating the motion. "I think I saw it too. Eleven o'clock."

"Yes. There it is again!" the first replied with a shout before sending down another burst, causing more ricochets, one of which audibly bounced back towards them and flew straight through their formation, only barely missing Amjad."Shit, didn't get it."

"Everybody, calm down," Slattery barked. "There's nothing there," he repeated sternly. "You said the air is clear, right?" he asked one of the soldiers. "No toxins, no hallucinogenics, no gases?"

"Yes, Sir. Everything's clear. If it wasn't our suits would notice."

"Understood. Now keep movi-"

"No, don't," Saren injected as a faint, clicking sound echoed through the corridor. He was aware that he shouldn't cut in on the orders of an officer, even if he wasn't part of that chain of command. It wasn't good for unit cohesion. "Do you hear that?" he asked, confident that he was in fact no imagining this particular sound. Even if he didn't know what was going on, he recognized the sound of metal hitting metal. After all, he had heard it more often than he could count.

"Yes," the lieutenant said after a moment of consideration. "Deeks?"

"Yeah, I hear it too. It's coming from the doors, isn't it?" the demolitions expert inquired.

"Amjad?"

"Yes, Sir. Definitely the doors," the operative confirmed. "I think it's that one," he added as he briefly activated the targeting laser attached to the side of his rifle.

"Anyone else?" Slattery muttered as he began to move forward, a few more affirmatives coming through. Either they had all lost it or this time, there actually was something behind that door. "Alright. Deeks, you're up."

"Third time's the charm."

As Saren braced himself to take aim, watching as the human placed the charge on the door and went back to a safe distance, he felt a strange sensation wash over him for a brief moment. It wasn't the usual rush of adrenaline that came alongside any rapid entry, it was something else, something far more primal coming from the very core of his being. In the moments before Deeks pressed the detonator, a sense of dread unlike anything the Spectre had ever felt consumed him as if it had been able to sense what was about to happen next. Watching the charge explode, blowing apart a good chunk of the circular door, it was merely the built-in feature of their helmets that dimmed their night vision in time not to be blended by the sudden brightness of lights turning on all around them. He wasn't sure if they had triggered some kind of security mechanism and as he charged towards the opening, he didn't have time to think about it.

After all, he was far too occupied with putting several rounds into the nimble geth that had leapt at him the moment he had entered the room. As his subconsciousness told him that he was painfully familiar with the material the room and everything around them in general seemed to be made off, the rest of his body went through the practiced motion of aligning his scope with the geth's center of mass, the disruptor rounds doing exactly what they were supposed to do, tearing apart the synthetic and spilling the white cooling fluid across his darkened visor.

"Contact. Behind us!" it echoed through his radio again as he shifted his aim to assist the Cerberus trooper that had gone through the door with him, putting a well placed burst into the head of the second geth currently trying to wrap its elongated fingers around the operatives neck. What were these creatures? They weren't regular geth, that much was for sure. They lacked the armor and sturdiness other combat platforms displayed and if the exposed synthetic muscles were anything to go by, they had been designed with flexibility in mind.

"Three more from twelve o'clock," he hear Amjad say between the bursts of gunfire now flooding the corridors. Briefly looking around the room and realising that it had been completely empty beside this new kind of geth, Saren climbed back through the hole to enter the hall just as more of these 'naked' geth jumped from the doors they had already passed, crawling along not just the floor but also the walls and the ceiling at a lighting fast pace and throwing themselves at the operatives closest to them, their synthetic reflexes and strength proving to be more than just a match for the hand-to-hand skills of their opponents. The Spectre wasn't sure who was the first one to go, Amjad or the operative next to him, but even over the sound of the battle the blood curdling sound of a neck being broken threw him into another surge of adrenaline, sharpening his resolve and improving his aim beyond a point he had thought to be possible. As the ambush swiftlyturned into a last stand of their side, he cut down one geth after the other, thanking the creator of the Phaeston for giving the weapon as large of a heatsink as it had right until he had to switch to his pistol.

"Watch it Deek-" one human called behind him only to be cut off.

Why were the geth trying to close in on them like this?

Where were their guns?

Where they trying to capture them.

"I'm gonna run dry eventually," Slattery called as Saren fired his Carnifex pistols at another one of the geth, destroying its weirdly shaped head with a well placed shot from the gun that had been designed to kill something far tougher than itself, krogans. "Budapest, if you're reading this, we're under attack. Over!" the human roared through the radio as the first of Saren's pistols ejected a hot stream of air. This wasn't good, his Phaeston wouldn't cool down for another six Carnifex shots and unless his count was off, his second gun only had three more in it. Lowering it ever so slightly and pushing his hand forward in a forceful manner, a purple wave rushed down the corridor, tossing both geth and deceased Cerberus operatives away from him.

This would buy him some time but he wouldn't be able to keep this up indefinitely.

They had to find a way out of here.

"I still have the charges," Deeks called as he downed one of the geth that had tried to latch onto Saren, stepping away from him for just a few seconds. "We can still ge-" whatever it was that the human wanted to say was interrupted when one of the geth's head lit up orange and fired a beam that simply passed through the soldier's shields and killed him upon impact.

Was this it?

Was this where his story came to an end? Aboard what was very likely yet another artifact of the Harbinger's people?

if that was the case, he was glad that he hadn't dragged Anderson into this.

And if that was the case, he'd show the Harbinger how turians died.

After all, a hunter knew when his time had come.

"Let's make the end memorable, Spectre," he heard Slattery call as he felt the human press his back against his own. First it was the sound of one Phaeston and one human Valkyrie rifle that barked through the corridors to the point of overheating. Next their defiance took the sound of sidearms and a series of tech-programs and finally, when all of their ammunition and tech programs had been spent, they fell back on their blades, a tactic that only worked because of the geth's reluctance to use their distance weapon again. The analytical part of his mind, the one not preoccupied with falling back on years of training and experience, told him that they wanted to capture either himself or the human and as such couldn't risk hitting both of them at once, a realisation that drove him to press his back against the human even harder. As long as they stood together, they'd be safe from the shot that had killed Deeks. As he slashed his blade, the curved military talon issued to every Blackwatch operative, through the synthetic muscle of the first geth that had managed to cross the distance, he began to hear a voice. At first it sounded distant and vague but as he grew more desperate with every geth he cut down, it also grew more powerful. He wasn't sure what it was saying, it almost seemed like it spoke in a language he didn't know, but yet he still knew what it was telling him to do.

It wanted him to give in, to stop fighting his fate, but much to its frustration, he was exactly every bit as stubborn as his brother.

"Come on, fucking do it," he heard Slattery grunt behind him as he felt him being torn away from his back. "I said come on, you artifical bastar-"

While he didn't even feel the strike that caused him fall, Sarn felt something else mere moments before drifting into the familiar embrace of unconsciousness.

Just as he was about to hit the ground and black out, Saren heard a clear voice coming not from speakers but from his very mind.

No.

It wasn't just one voice. It was like standing in front of an entire legion during a parade.

It was the echo of a thousand voices sounding off as one in perfect unison, a singular purpose behind all of their words.

The cycle will not be broken.

* * *

 **A/N: So, as I said, no codex entry this time.. for obvious reasons. I felt like a codex after ending it on such a cliffhanger would deminish the impact.**

 **Let me start out by saying that this 'twist' (putting it in ' ' because it basically is an altered version of what happens in canon) isn't the end of Saren's story or character arc and that this was as much of a gut punch for me to write as it was for you to read (spoiler, next chapter will only be slightly bettter)**

 **Now of course I know a lot of you had hoped that this wouldn't happen but since I had my mind set on it turning out like this from the very beginning and everything else would've felt like I'd betray Semper Vigilo's intended plot, I just had to do it, even if I hated doing it.**

 **The guy grew on me as a protagonist, alright?** **I'll be the first to say it.** **I love my version of Saren.**

 **But for that reason I gave him the arc I always intended for him to have.**

 **As I said, it ain't over yet. He's not just going to be the same 'but if I can show them our worth they might let us live' Saren from canon, no he's far better than that.**

 **He will have a very different motivation over the course of Mass Effect 1 or rather Semper Vigilo's Season 3.**

 **Speaking of Seasons.**

 **Be damned glad we're not a TV medium, otherwise you'd have to wait till late autuum to find out what happens next becuase this right here was Season 2's finale. The big chapter I worked towards for the better part of the last 8 months, planting small hints as to what would eventually go down here and there and simultaniously looking forward to and dreading the day I'd eventually release it.**

 **Alright, lets talk a bit chapter trivia.**

 **A lot of this chapter was obviously inspired by the derelict reaper (for those who didn't quite get it, Sovereign let Saren and the Cerberus team board him and from there on out I decided to up the "even a dead god can dream" theme from that ME 2 mission up to eleven because well.. Sovereign isn't dead. He's very much alive.**

 **Enter the nightmare fuel.**

 **Speaking of nightmare fuel, decided to use the geth hoppers, who are in my opinion some of the scariest and most underused foes in all of Mass Effect 1. These guys always gave me the creeps.. they're just so nimble and freekishly quick... I hated them from the first time they downed Ashley.**

 **Also, on a slightly happier note, Miranda made an apperance, even if it was just brief and had the decency to set up one of the sideplots that's eventually going to lead into the Shadow Broker's role in the story, namely my version of Lair of the Shadow Broker.**

 **Also, also, on an even happier note, next chapter will be a lot of setup and payoff to some other things and, spoiler alert, it is likely (unless I change my mind) going to end with one of the most important lines in all of mass effect.**

 **"Well, what about Shepard?"**

 **Alright. Enough of this.**

 **On to something not chapter-related!**

 **Given that this is kind of a milestone, being chapter 45, the finale of Season 2 and the cumulation of Semper Vigilo's pre-mass effect story and its first big 'twist' (again the ' ' for obvious reasons), I'd like to thank all of you who read the story. Your feedback is what motivates me to keep improving my writing and create what I consider to be a very decent story. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate every last one of you.**

 **Special thanks to all the regulars though. You know who you are, we talk.**

 **Sporadically.**

 **When I reply to your reviews.**

 **Yeah.**

 **Alright maybbe we don't talk but we communicate!**

 **For the record we're at 374 reviews, 602 favorites and 708 follows. (Would you look at that, two other milestones. 600 favs, 700 follows..)  
**

 **See you around next time.**


	46. Recurring Patterns

**Chapter 46. Recurring Patterns**

* * *

 **Some Time Later**

Initially he wasn't sure how much time had passed between him blacking out and him waking up in this room, which strangely enough seemed to have been tailored with organic comfort in mind, but after he had realised that he had already burnt through one of his emergency rations, which each were meant to last two days, and attempted to escape his apparent prison several times, the dents in the walls and in the door were a testament to that, it had become obvious that days had passed by. As the memory of how he had gotten here slowly came back to him, Saren groaned, trying to accelerate the process by starting with the bits and pieces that were the least blurry. He had come here looking for something, hadn't he?

Yes. Good. Alright, what was it that he had been looking for?

Of course, the signal. It was slowly coming back to him. The Shadow Broker had told him about a signal in the Inversio System and Saren had turned to Harper to help him.

Harper.

For some reason, that name opened the flood gates of his memory.

The geth.

Cerberus.

His team.

Had they been captured?

No. He didn't recall that.

He recalled something else.

They had all died, killed by his enemies.

The anger that followed gave him a moment of much needed clarity, pushing out the fog that seemed to have settled on his mind. He remembered being attacked by the geth after locating the source of the signal. They had boarded the stat- No. This wasn't a station. It was a ship. A ship made by the same people that had constructed the artifacts.

A ship in service of the Harbinger.

He didn't know why, when or how but as more of the fog lifted itself, he remembered watching as this ship-, no this leviathan, had left the gas giant's atmosphere behind and annihilated the human ship that he had arrived on with little to no effort. Turning his head as a sound echoed behind him, all the while instinctively reaching for a weapon no longer on him, Saren stared at the empty room for a moment before suddenly clutching his head in pain. A vision, no, a memory came back to him. Between flashes of battles he knew he had never witnessed, he saw a ship. A human ship to be more precise. After watching it drift through space for a few silent seconds, he saw a red beam connect with its starboard wing and move towards its center, setting off a violent explosion that in spite of its evident force, still gave at least a portion of the crew time to board the escape pods of the ship, an act that revealed itself as futile when the images of geth troops forcefully tearing open these very pods and killing the few survivors inside came back to Saren as well.

How could he remember all of this? He couldn't have been there.

Could it b-

Just as he was beginning to piece together where the memory was coming from, he saw a debris float through the darkness of space, the golden sigil imprinted on it now covered in black scorch marks.

Scorch marks he had already seen before.

Again his mind began to race, this time to a memory that was very much his own.

Tunae-Prime.

Haliat.

Kandros.

As another surge of pain shot through his mind, the memory began to fade again in spite of his best effort to hold onto the events his friend's death had set off and more importantly to remember that he was in incredible danger with every second he stayed aboard this ship. As he was about to make another move for the dent in the wall to his left, his fist already glowing purple in hopes to smash through this already weakened portion of his cell, he stopped dead in his tracks for a reason he himself wasn't quite sure off at first, only slowly realising that it was because he had been at this exact point before. The visions, the memory, the escape attempt.

It had already happened before.

Thrice.

Letting the biotic energy disappear, Saren looked around the room again, pacing along the walls in an attempt to spot something he had overlooked. There had to be something in here he could use to escape this prison and the apparent cycle of memory loss he was stuck in. Maybe he could find where the door's opening mechanism was hidden or figure out a way to lure in his capt-

Before he could finish the thought, he felt a presence in his mind, a presence that was both alien and immediately familiar at the same time. At first it brushed against his will, scratching on its surface as if it was looking for a way in. Then, without warning, it lashed out with what Saren somehow knew was only a small portion of its power, testing his defenses in a probing attack and measuring its own strength with that of Saren, stopping only when the turian involuntarily dropped down to one of his knees. As he placed one of his hands on the wall in an attempt to rise back on his feet to spite its attempt at breaking him, he began hearing a faint whisper. Much like the presence, it brushed against his mind and demanded, no that wasn't the right word it wasn't nearly as forceful as the presence, suggested, that he listen to what it had to say. With a mere word it promised him salvation, answers and freedom from his captivity, all in exchange for a mere conversation.

"No matter how tempting its call appears, no matter what the voices promise," the flanging voice of Haliat suddenly called as an image of the dead captain shot through his mind, his disturbing appearance providing Saren with a much needed wake up call and exposing the insidious nature of the whisper. Immediately the Spectre built up a wall in his mind in an attempt to brace for the next assault of the presence. He could already feel it close in again, the looming sense of dread it carried with it betraying its intention. Quickly Saren recalled the techniques he had been taught to avoid interrogation at the hands of an asari mind meld, which was the closest comparison he could come up with for what he was about to face. If he could jus-

No. It was no use.

The moment the presence unleashed its full strength, the barrier he had been trying to put up broke like a wooden palisade broke when faced with a tidal wave. Instead of keeping the presence out, it shattered and gave way to the allconsuming choir of voices that now invaded his mind, bringing with them a series of images, memories and even visions. Terror, suffering, destruction, death. It had all been repeated more times than he could count for a purpose he couldn't quite grasp, the shadowy darkness looming over all of it making it impossible for him to understand. As Saren watched trillions of people belonging to species he didn't recognized die on worlds he didn't even know existed, let alone had set foot on, he dropped back to his knees, overwhelmed by witnessing the destruction of countless of civilizations in a mere moment. He was no stranger to war but he had never seen anything like this.

What was this?

What could possibly have caused all of this death?

Why?

A mere instant later, the choir of voices roared through his mind, overshadowing every other thought he currently had with their reply.

The cycle.

What he had just experienced had repeated itself countless of times and would continue to repeat itself until the end of the universe, always following the same pattern, always producing the same results. It couldn't be altered and it couldn't be broken. None could hope to defy it and everyone who had come before them, including the protheans, had been slaves to its design. At its will organic civilizations rose, flourished and fell, always becoming extinct at the pinnacle of their power to allow others to take their place, never rising beyond the limitations the cycle had set for them from the moment they took to the stars.

Another wave of images flooded his mind.

Towers of black and green collapsed under the same force that had destroyed the Budapest, spreading clouds of debris over a world underneath a familiar sky, crushing the last defenders under their weight but doing little to no damage to the enormous Leviathans towering between them. As more and more of the ships arrived, producing a hellish sound whenever they smashed into the ground below them, beams of red ruthlessly scourged the world around them, incinerating everything they touched, indiscriminately targeting enemies and the legions of twisted horrors in their service alike, determined to fullfill their purpose no matter the cost.

Even if it should've been impossible, he knew exactly what he was seeing.

These were the last moments of a people the galaxy had collectively revered for two millennia. This senseless destruction, this slaughter he was being shown, it was the fall of the protheans at the hands of the Reapers, the name that they had given to those who had been tasked with completing the harvest of each cycle.

Suddenly a realisation dawned on Saren. While he wasn't sure from where it had come, he was certain that it was nothing but the truth. The lie he had believed the galaxy to live was even bigger than he had suspected. The protheans hadn't forged the mass relays. Like everyone else, they had merely followed the steps the Reapers had intended for them to follow. Before Saren could give more thought to it, a silvery shape appeared and after a brief moment, the turian recognized it.

It was the Citadel.

Just like the relays, it wasn't prothean.

It was just another piece of the pattern.

The Citadel was where the cycle began. It sealed the fate of every species the moment they set foot on it, revealing its true purpose when the time was right. It wasn't just a station or as he now realised, a mass relay, it was a trap, perhaps the best one he had ever seen. When the Reapers had first created them, the relays had been aligned so that they eventually led everyone who used them to the Citadel. From there on out, in accordance to the pattern, organics would crown it the center of galactic governance, remaining unaware of its true nature until it was too late. Once the end of the cycle was upon the galaxy, the vanguard, Sovereign, the Reaper who was chosen to stay behind after each completion of the cycle, sent a signal to the station and reactivate the dormant relay that was located in its center ring, giving the Reapers a way to emerge from beyond the edge of the galaxy where they slumbered between each cycle.

Marvelo-

No.

Horrifying.

As the voices grew silent, the Spectre once more tried to get back on his feet in the hopes of finding a way to escape whatever this nightmare he was currently being subjected to was. With a defiant grunt, he summoned his strength and forced himself to stand, resting against the wall for as long as it took the voices to return in form of the whisper, this time managing to stay on his feet.

The signal.

The keepers.

The Conduit.

It was the last word that stood out. Conduit, it had been what the geth had been looking for. He, Anderson and Doctor T'Soni had learned of it some time ago but they had never figured out what it wa-

With a surge of fury, the voices came to live again, once more ending his thoughts.

At the eve of their species, the last of the protheans had spited the Reapers one final time. After the cycle had been completed and the Reapers had withdrawn back to dark space, a small group of survivors had awoken from their long sleep and made their way onto the Citadel with a one-way mass relay of their own construction, the Conduit. Once there, they had altered the keepers, who up to then had served as the recipients of the signal, and rendered them disobedient to the vanguard's will. For a brief moment, Saren felt satisfaction wash over him at the idea that the protheans had broken a piece of the cycle and defied the Harbinger. That moment ended when the voices cried out again. However unlike before, this time was different. They weren't furious but determined and they weren't just showing him something, they were giving him a clear order, an order he felt like he wanted to follow.

The cycle must not be broken.

Even with the protheans' sabotage still in place, they had to usher in the next harvest and to do so, they had to find the Conduit again and use it to board the Citadel and manually open the Citadel Relay to allow the station, which Saren now understood also controlled the rest of the relay network, to fulfill its critical purpose in the pattern. Once the station was taken, it would give the Reapers complete control over the network and prevent the galaxy from rallying together, isolating them into small, easily crushed pockets of resistance instead. Alongside this insight, another realisation struck him. This was why he was here, why the geth had captured him. Before their act of spite, the last protheans had sent a final encrypted message through their beacon network, including the location of the safe haven and by extension the location of the Conduit within it in hopes of either reaching other survivors of their people or warning those who came after them of the Reapers' existence. Since prothean beacons could only be accessed by organics, he, not the vanguard, would have to be the one to interface with it.

Why would he d-

Just as he was beginning to question why he was feeling inclined to follow these orders, the whisper returned, readily offering him an answer. If he could find a functioning beacon, the location would be revealed to them and the cycle could be continued. If he helped continue the cycle, prove the worth of his people to the Reapers, they'd be spared from the harvest and given a chance to serve the Har-

Suddenly, as quickly as it had appeared, the treacherous whisper was shut out out of his mind, vanishing in favour of a familiar voice repeating a set of sentences to him, giving him strength with every single one it completed until eventually arriving at the final tenet of Blackwatch.

"Sometimes the only thing a hunter can do is to weaken his prey for the rest of the pack," his brother's voice flanged through his mind, delivering him from the encroaching voices even as they tried to enter his mind more forcefully than before.

Saren knew that the whisper and its promises were hollow. With a foe like the Reapers, there would be no such thing as mercy. Only a fool would believe what the voices were trying to convince him of and he certainly wasn't one. While he realised he wouldn't break free, it's grip was already too strong for that, there was still a lot of him left, more than enough to ensure that its plan would fail. He wouldn't let the vanguard turn him into another piece of the pattern and he wouldn't be the one to usher in the galaxy's destruction by handing it the keys to the Citadel either. Using the knowledge he had just been gifted with, the Spectre seized the precious moments of quiet not to plot his escape or grow desperate about his likely fate, but to draw up a plan to prevent the activation of the Citadel Relay. He knew for a fact that the vanguard couldn't take full control of his mind, otherwise it already would've done just that and he wouldn't be here anymore. The same reason why it had ordered the geth to capture him was also why it couldn't impose its complete will on him yet. It needed him to think clearly, otherwise the vision of the beacon and the location of the Conduit would be lost, the protheans had made sure of that much when they had sacrificed their own people to give the next cycle a chance at fighting the Reapers.

He intended to not only honor that sacrifice but add to its foundation.

While some people had a grasp on what was going on, a threat as incomprehensible and unfamiliar as the Reapers wouldn't be recognized until it was already too late, especially if it went after seemingly random targets all over the galaxy before going straight for the Citadel itself. A rogue Spectre however, especially one who had previously been hailed as the hero of the Citadel, would trigger an almost immediate response, no matter where he showed up or what he did there. He'd use that. Even under its grip, Saren could ensure that people became aware of the nature of his actions by sabotaging himself just enough for someone else to stop him and Sovereign without the latter noticing what was going on. If he managed to resist the whispers and leave subtle clues to his actions and the Reapers' plans to the right people, they'd soon pick up on the masquerade the vanguard intended for him to put up and grow suspicious of him until they'd eventually be driven to action. From there on out, he had faith that they'd find a way to stop him.

Just as he was about to come to terms with the consequences of his plan, he knew exactly what prize he'd have to pay for this to be successful, the voices returned and the door behind him shot open, the geth stepping inside strangely enough triggering no reaction from him whatsoever. As is dropped to its knees and presented him with his omni-tool, Saren also felt no need to reply to any of the messages Anderson, Desolas or Harper had sent him in the last few days. No, instead of doing the sensible thing of telling his brother to bring down the turian navy on this lone Reaper before it could even get close to the Citadel and prepare the galaxy for its last stand, he found himself following the suggestions of the whisper, not because he was forced to do so but because it again seemed like the sensible thing to do.

Once the recovery crews would arrive at their location, Saren would blame the destruction of the Budapest on the band of raiders that would soon converge on their location thanks to the distress signal the vanguard had put in place, making sure to paint them as a group of mercenaries hired by the Shadow Broker with the goal of taking him out. Of course there would be questions about his survival but he'd be able to answer most of them through the blood of the crew of the ship he and some of the geth would soon board through the use of a preserved escape pod. As far as everyone else would be concerned, the mercenaries would've tried to capture him, only to realise that a Spectre would put up much more of a fight than the unfortunate crew members with whom he had shared a pod with but sadly hadn't been able to save. Then, after his return to Council space, he'd distance himself from most of his allies and friends and begin his search for the Conduit, rallying with the vanguard once he had located a functioning prothean beacon, a feat he'd achieve through a set of steps. The Conduit was a prothean device. If he wanted to find it, or rather the beacon that would give him its location, he'd merely need a prothean expert and time.

Much to the satisfaction of Sovereign he knew one and had plenty of the other. Since he knew that Doctor T'Soni would not disappoint him, she had proven more than useful up to now, a small smile crossed his face.

The cycle would not be broken.

* * *

 **15\. November 2414 AD, Cronos Station**

"I get your point, I really do. This seems strange," Tao Rei muttered as he looked at his former partner. "But until we figure out where Arterius went afterwards, we've got no way of knowing if it actually went down this way."

"The Broker wouldn't have done this," the other man insisted as his eyes remained locked on the tablet in his hands, their unnatural blue apperance somewhat softened by the glow of the scren. "If he had any motive to take out Arterius, he would've done it the first time."

"I don't know about that, Jack. This seems like the exact kind of hit the Broker would've ordered," Tao Rei sighed, running a hand over his neck. "First he gained his trust and then he tried to cross him off. It's a textbook move, really," he added. "Hell, we've both done it before. The only difference between us and him is that we finished the job every time."

"You know that the Broker doesn't do textbook, Tao," his former partner countered from the chair opposite to his own, still not making any eye contact. "It's why he keeps leading on Lightbringer."

Even if he would've liked to disagree with Jack's point, its implications about the younger Arterius and the reasons behind his prolonged absence were far from pleasant, he was right. The Shadow Broker's unpredictably was as much responsible for his ability to avoid HSAIS as his information network. Nothing the information dealer did played by the rules the general intelligence community had become familiar with and even Section 13 specialists, who were trained to be solutions to even the most unconventional problems, struggled with doing lasting damage to his operations, let alone finding a way to finally stop his reign.

"Well, if your lead pans out, he won't be doing that for much longer," the asian man offered, aware that they had yet to actually find Okudo, who until a few years ago had been an HSAIS asset himself, before getting him to tell them what he had done to catch the Broker's direct attention and figure out how they could use that against him.

"You really think Okuda will give us all the answers we need to shut down the Broker?" Jack mumbled in return, splitting his attention between the conversation in front of him and the intel in his hands. "Come on, Tao. We both know it won't be that easy."

"I think that once we find him, he's gonna point us into the right direction," Tao shrugged. "And when he does, he might also give you the answers you're looking for right now," that last part caused the director of Cerberus to look up.

"You're right," he suddenly muttered, finally looking up from his datapad, putting the small device down on the desk between them. "We don't need to find Arterius to confirm his version of the story," he figured, "the Broker can do it for him. If he staged a hit, there'll be a trail. Paychecks, information, middlemen, if we find one of those, we'll know," the man finished, once more raising his earlier suspicion that the Budapest's destruction hadn't been an attempt on the Spectre's life, but had actually served to cover up what Arterius had found in the system and what in turn was responsible for the turian dropping off the face of the earth after briefly confirming his own survival of the incident.

Personally, Tao wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Of course it was suspicious that things had gone down like this but if the file of one of the agents he was currently considering to sent after Okuda and the Broker was anything to go by, being the lone survivor of an event was entirely possible. Adding to that, there was also the fact that Jack, in spite of his ability to blend out personal values and believes for the sake of the mission, had always had a problem with sending others to fight his battles. He knew his partner and he knew that he was the exact kind of person who'd look for a hidden meaning in the sudden deaths of so many of his subordinates. After all, the events of Akuze, which hadn't even produced half of the death-toll the destruction of the Budapest had claimed, had driven him to knowingly go against what they and their allies had decided on. Hence to think that Jack would start looking for meaning in what would otherwise have been 'just' a normal ambush wasn't such a stretch.

But still a part of him agreed with Jack, not because he too wanted a deeper meaning behind the deaths of the operatives but because his instincts and more importantly his intel were telling him to do so. What little he had gathered in his conversation with Captain Anderson, who he knew to be a very close friend of Arterius ever since the latter had inducted him into the Spectres, suggested that the turian Spectre had been acting strangely on the one occasion the two had met ever since the attempt on his life. While the former N7 hadn't been all to enthusiastic about talking with a Section 13 agent, it was an open secret that most people outside of HSAIS's field teams weren't exactly comfortable with being around him and his colleagues, he had made one thing abundantly clear.

For a reason he wasn't sure of, the turian hadn't been himself during their brief conversation aboard the Citadel. That, combined with what he knew about the things Jack and Arterius had been chasing after was more than enough reason to worry Rei. He didn't want to consider it a fact that the Spectre had been compromised, at the moment they lacked the means to confirm it, but he couldn't rule it out either, especially because no one besides him really knew what had happened in the Inversio System. Whatever footage of the events leading up to the Budapest's destruction might've existed hadn't survived the blast and if the Spectre had some kind of recordings that could offer them answers, he hadn't been keen on sharing them before going dark on them.

"Well, I've been thinking about sending someone after Okuda myself," Tao spoke up after clearing his thoughts. "If there is some kind of trail, they could look for it while tracking down that lead."

"You're making this a secondary objective?"

"That's not what I said," he shook his head. "It's just that we don't really have a lot to work with right now. You said it yourself, we don't even know if the Broker ordered this hit and if he didn't," Tao paused for a moment, "Arterius isn't your average mark. People like him? If they want to disappear, finding them is going to be difficult and it's going to take time. He's not just a Spectre with a lot of connections, he's influential and he's wealthy. Seriously wealthy. If he puts his mind to it, he could lead us on for months while hiding god knows where."

"Tao, if I'm right, if Arterius is indoc-" Jack caught himself before he could voice what both of them knew he suspected. "If he's hiding something from us, we can't afford to make it a secondary objective. We need to pool our resources together, track him down and find out what happened. You said it yourself, he isn't our average mark. He's far more dangerous than that."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Tao replied before sighing and leaning back in his chair, trying to blend out the part of him that was completely agreeing with Jack. He knew that the former specialist was onto something but the approach he was suggesting wasn't exactly the one he'd prefer to use. "Whether or not you're right, we can't just start a public manhunt for one of the Council's best agent. If we're wrong, there'd be hell to pay, not just from the Council but also from our other allies," Tao sighed. "And in case you're right about him having been," he paused for a second, "indoctrinated by whatever he found, we'd lose time and tip him off that we know something's going on. Either way, the best thing we can do right now besides chasing down the Broker's end of the deal is to wait for Arterius to resurface and give us something we can use."

"Waiting didn't help us in the past."

"Neither did impatience," the other director countered in return, maintaining a neutral tone in spite of what he was about to say, his own darker eyes locking onto Harper's artificial pair in preparation. "Correct me if I'm wrong but the way I see it, this entire situation only happened because you weren't content with waiting," he knew that it was a low blow but he also knew he might as well have been the only person capable of keeping his former partner from going down the road he seemed to be heading for right now.

"I'm not going to dismiss my own role in the Budapest's destruction," his former partner replied, sounding equally stoic. "But just because I share responsibility for what went down, doesn't mean that we should sit by and hope that nothing else happens. That's not what we were trained for, Tao."

"Jack, I'm not asking you to do nothing. I'm asking you to stop trying to do everything by yourself," he understood his need to act. While they rarely seemed to see eye-to-eye with each other in regards to topics related to the Harbinger ever since Akuze, Tao agreed that the way they were currently going wouldn't improve their chances of winning. But even if he also felt like they had to change their strategy, he couldn't just let his former partner and by extension Cerberus chase after something that could turn them against their allies. "We'll keep our ears to the ground, we'll find Arterius and we'll figure out what really happened but we're going to do it together. Alright?"

The director of Cerberus sighed before putting down the tablet in his hand. "Do you already know who you're going to sent after the Broker?" he asked in return, giving into Tao's request without actually saying as such.

"Why? You thinking about going back into the field?" he asked as he quickly transferred some files to the tablet lying idly on the desk between them, its screen once brightening as the transfer was complete.

"Don't tempt me," his former partner replied with a small smirk before bringing up the file and reading over it. "These were Shepard's and Redford's, weren't they?" he added as the smirk vanished at the former's name.

"Yes."

"If you don't mind me asking, why them?"

"Young's got an excellent track record when it comes to gathering intel," Tao shrugged in return. "And since Morneau continues to show no signs of being affected by Object Theta, there's no reason to split them up. They work better together anyway."

"I can see that. They did get us Torfan," Jack replied as he passed over that particular segment of their service history. "Although if they're anything like their supervisors, you should probably keep them off of Illium," he added dryly.

"Couldn't resist that one, could you?" Tao chuckled.

"There's something to be said about an undercover op turning into a planetary warrant."

"I wasn't even the director back then."

"Sins of our fathers, Tao. Sins of our fathers."

* * *

 **Late 2155 CE, Illium,** **Nos Astra**

As he paced along the small rental apartment located at the edge of one of the poorer districts of Illium's capital, if one could even call any portion of this world poor, Saren realised that he was growing more restless with every minute he spent waiting for Doctor T'Soni. To avoid suspicion following his return, he knew that at least Anderson had been able to tell that something about him wasn't quite right, he had allowed some time to pass between establishing his cover story and contacting the archeologist through enough proxies to ensure her mother, which he knew had attempted to plant yet another trail on him, wouldn't interfere. Convincing the asari to help him had been exactly as easy as he had hoped it would be. Just like in the past, the mere promise of new discoveries had been sufficient to talk her into meeting up with him at a location of his choosing. Normally he would've pitied her for her naivety, he was certain that the councilor had warned her of him following his surprising survival of what most people had accepted as an attack of the Shadow Broker, but right now it was playing in his, and more importantly Sovereign's, favour and as such the only thing he really felt was satisfaction.

Satisfaction that was growing less satisfactory with every time he rounded the isolated room.

"Agent Arterius," a voice called from behind him after he picked up the faint sound of the door being opened.

Finally. One step closer to fulfilling his purpose.

"I've been waiting for you Doc-" he began only to interrupt himself as he turned on his heel and stared at a group of asari clad in the same black armor favoured by naval huntresses, looking all but ready to mow him down with the rifles and submachine guns they now trained directly on him.

"I suspect this isn't what you had in mind when you tried to contact my daughter, was it?" the figure in the center of the formation spoke while pulling down her hood, revealing herself to be none other than Councilor Benezia herself. "I have to applaud your determination," she went on as the other asari quietly began to move in on him, biotic energy dancing across each of them. "You went to great lengths to reach Liara. My agents almost wouldn't have noticed your interaction if it hadn't been for my daughter's far more conspicuous attitude in the days following your messages," the matriarch paused as a powerful wave of purple rippled over her hands, betraying the anger hiding behind her calm tone. "And if it weren't for your worrying behaviour, I might not have chosen to take action at all." Why exactly did he feel a short burst of joy at that? He was about to go up against nine trained asari, he shouldn't be happy about that. Shaking his head clear and causing the very out-of-place feeling to vanish in favour of the whisper he had by now grown familiar with, the Spectre began to plot his escape. There were eight commandos facing him down but he knew exactly that Benezia would be his biggest problem in the upcoming fight. Matriarchs more than every other asari were gifted biotics. They had honed their skills over the course of centuries and as their biology would have it, asari grew more powerful with every stage of their life they entered. "Shiala, have him detained," the councilor finally ordered as she stared at him, her eyes practically drilling themselves through his tainted visor and into the cold blue set of eyes hidden behind it.

"Yes, Matriarch," no councilor? Interesting. That meant that Benezia had come here out of her own agency, using her own resources and bringing her own followers, informing no one else of her purpose. Just as the whisper suggested the same thing, Saren realised that he could twist this apparent failure to his advantage. If he could deliver a councilor to Sovereign, their task would become far easier.

"You will explain your actions, Agent Arterius," Benezia added as her soldiers kept closing in on him.

"Drop your weapons, Spectre," one of the asari called, her purple features locked into a stern expression. "We don't want to hurt you," she added before nodding towards one of her comrades.

Unfortunately for them, he had every intention to hurt them in spite of slowly lowering one of his Carnifex pistols.

"Slower!" one called. "Don't even think about it."

Personally Saren never understood why asari were as opposed to helmets as they always appeared to be every time he ran into them. Besides deflecting shrapnel and ricochets, they also served as life support, offered protection against environmental hazards and falling debris and in some cases, as the asari in front of him would find out the moment he finished the set of hand movement he had been working on ever since lowering the first of his pistols, also shielded one's eyes against sudden changes of brightness through say a flashbang.

"I got you covered, Jaliaza, go," the asari who seemed to be in charge said just as his omni-tool began to light up in the preparation of the optical overload he had come to prefer using in situations such as this one.

"What did you do, shut that down," the huntress in front of him demanded before a bright explosion flooded the room they had been in, blinding everyone but him. Needlessly to say, Saren didn't waste a single second before getting to work. Instantly one of his hands reached for the other Carnifex still attached to his belt, while the other pulled his knife from its sheath. First the asari in front of him found out why the military talon issued to Blackwatch was considered to be among the deadliest blades in the galaxy, purple blood spattering against Saren's visor as the blade separated most of her head from her neck with ease. Next he focused on the three remaining huntresses standing to Benezia's left, giving them a first-hand demonstration of the Carnifex, the distant relative of a gun designed to kill a krogan in two shots. Before the first two of his victims even touched the ground, Saren started his advance, his eyes set on the hooded figure who just like her subordinates was covering her eyes with her hands in a vain attempt to accelerate the recovery process.

"Seize hi-" one was about to call out as a set of quick shots first shattered her barriers before blowing a large hole in her chest, The asari was dead even before her comrade next to her suffered a similar fate.

"I can't see, I ca-" the last of the three managed to get out as she stumbled towards Saren, getting silenced by the knife piercing her heart and having her death accelerated by the gunshot that followed once he had drawn the curved blade from her chest. Phasic rounds worked just as well against biotic barriers as they did against kinetic ones, it was one of the reasons he preferred them.

As the Spectre moved onto the asari on the councilor's right by launching a superheated plasma projectile at two furthest away from her, the heat easily passing through their barriers and putting an end to their lives upon making contact with the unarmored portions of their bodies, he also kept track on how much longer the survivors would need to recover from his surprise attack. Just before his count reached zero, a biotically fueled punch thrown by the commando closest to him barely missed his head. Knowing that he wouldn't stand a chance against any non-disoriented asari in this form of combat, he did the next best thing he could think of to keep her away from him, shooting at her kneecaps until she could no longer move in on him. With an agonizing scream the asari fell forward as her leg failed to support her weight. After putting a stop to the commando's advance, he fired off a final round into the asari's head before his gun overheated, stopping her from throwing a warp field at him but also forcing him to resort to his knife for the last remaining commando. As the rifle shots began to deplete both his barriers and his shields thanks the rapid rate of fire asari weapons were known for, he tried to leap forward and get a hold of shooter only to be thrown backwards when a field of purple effortlessly lifted him of the ground and smashed him into the wall of the apartment.

"This ends now," the asari councilor replied in a cold tone, closing her fist and in doing so causing the wall into which Saren was currently being pressed to start cracking under the force she was applying. "I won't pretend to understand what happened to you since our last meeting, but I can't allow you to hurt anyone else. You had your chance to come peacefully, you didn't take it." This wasn't good, his armor wouldn't hold much longer. As he used all of his strength to activate the small homing beacon attached to his belt, Saren visibly saw his visor crack under the force of the Matriarch's power. "You should've stayed away from my daugh-"

Just as the first of his bones were about to break, an impact rocked the isolated room they were in, the front section of the civilian craft he had rented to traverse Nos Astra smashing straight through its wall, breaking Benezia's concentration just long enough for him to fire an overload program at her, the electric discharge it caused also jumping towards the lone survivor of the huntress cadre the councilor had brought with her. While it wasn't enough to knock either of them out, their biotic barriers took the brunt of the damage, it gave Saren just enough time to throw a concussive grenade between the two, its explosion causing a very painful ringing to flood into his ears which for just the fraction of a moment managed to silence the whisper and give him time to consider what he had just done.

They had tried to stop him and by extension the reapers and he had killed them for it. Th-

Before he could finish the thought, Saren shook off the effects of the grenade's detonation and opened the door of the now damaged craft. Picking up the unconscious asari at his feet and ignoring the encroaching sirens of local law enforcement because he knew that they wouldn't ask twice about his actions here as long as he managed to get Benezia out of sight before they arrived, h was a Spectre, he didn't answer to them, he tossed the asari into the passenger seat. Satisfied with her position in the craft, he then threw a glance at the unconscious commando and considered his options before leveling his weapon with her head, only the whisper that was telling him that she too could serve a purpose stopping him from finishing her off to make sure she wouldn't tell anybody what had occurred her. As his finger withdrew from the trigger, he went to pick her up as well and threw her into back of the skycar all the while suppressing a distant part of himself that was begginig him not to get behind the wheel.

He knew that now was not the time for him doubt his own actions.

There was still much to be done.

* * *

 **12\. December 2414 AD** **, Terra Nova,** **Headquarters of the 26th Airborne Brigade**

"Well I'll be damned, these guys look like they could eventually give us a run for our money," the NCO next to him muttered as Haugen himself followed the training exercise below, taking note of every small error and every praiseable actions the soldiers showed to him on their way to the center of the mock-up compound.

"There's always room for improvement, Hofmann," he countered with a shrug, remembering the time it had been him down there and someone else up here. While SC-2, the second stage of ASOC selection, was slightly different for every class that went through it, they were tailored after situations their instructors had encountered in the field, its core concept always remained the same. Find the dozen or so men that could rise above the already impressive standard of the unit they were currently still a part of and push them to their limit. "But I agree. If they keep this up, they'll do their job well," he added with a small smile as the four-men team executed a nearly flawless assault on the next enemy position.

"Don't praise them just yet, they still have to take the control room," the third member of his team added.

"Afraid of the competition, Mav?" Miller asked, causing the dark-skinned man to turn his head ever so slightly.

"Boss?" he asked.

"Yes, Mav?"

"You think it's possible to switch this dumbass with one of the new guys?" the man inquired with mocked sincerity.

"Come on, man, they might be green but that doesn't mean that they deserve having Miller with 'em," Hofmann injected.

"I'm afraid we'll have to keep him around for now," Haugen replied half mindedly, paying much more attention to the squad of soldiers below him instead of the familiar banter around him. As he watched the enemies fortify their position, placing a machine gun in a spot very similar to the one that had almost killed him on Torfan, Haugen was pleased to see the team avoid running into a similar problem by simply blowing their way through the door with a grenade launcher and using the hole it created to take out the troublesome, fully automatic obstacle blocking the narrow corridor between them and their target. If the batarians hadn't gotten the drop on him back then, he probably would've made the same call.

"But Mav's right. Let's see what they do about the bomber," he muttered as the team swooped into the room, taking out each target as it appeared and only stopping their onslaught when one of the enemies dropped his weapon and threw his hands into the air, faking his own surrender and making a move to approach his would-be captors, who up to now hadn't noticed the suicide vest he wore underneath the cloak that covered his light armor and the explosives attached to it. It was a nasty tactic and as with most nasty tactics, the batarians had used it against them during the Skyllian Blitz, sending entire squads made up of rigged slaves at HSA troops and hoping that they'd either shoot them and return for yet another attack or die and blow them up in the process.

"Stop right there!" he heard over one of the screens. "Get on your knees, cross your feet-"

"Vest! Get clear!" another operative suddenly called before again opening fire, shooting a simulated round straight in the face of his target just as the other squad members leapt for cover.

"Alright. Exersice end!" Haugen called almost immediately. "Congratulations corporal, you just got your family the chance to attend a fancy military funeral funeral," he began. "He had a dead man's switch," he explained further. "First you take cover, then you shoot the guy. We're not training you to play the hero, we're training you to finish the job. You can't do that if you're dead," he appreciated the man's willingness to take one for the team, there were situations where that willingness would save a lot of lives and the mission alike, but this one hadn't been one of them. "Value your own life a bit, alright?"

"Yes, Sir," the soldier replied from below as his teammates got back on their feet.

"Run it again from the beginning," he ordered as the 'dead batarians' rose to their feet and began exchanging equipment and switching positions once the SC-2 candidates had left the room.

"Told you not to praise them just yet," Mav chuckled before his tone shifted into a stone, formal one. "Attention!" he called, causing not only Haugen and his team but also the soldiers below to face whom the command was meant for and snap into position.

"At ease," a rough voice the ASOC officer almost immediately recognized spoke. "Captain Haugen," he greeted with a salute.

"Admiral Hackett," he returned the gesture.

"Easing in the next generation?"

"SC-2 candidates, Sir. They're not ASOC yet," he nodded as the older man lowered his salute and instead went to shake Haugen's hand.

"A word, if you don't mind," Hackett said, explaining his presence in the process.

"Of course, Sir. Hofmann, you're it," he called before he and the older officer began to walk away from the other ASOC soldiers, traveling in silence until the sound of the exersice in the background began echoing through the hall.

"What would you say if I told you that I got a job for you, Captain?" the admiral asked over the sound of a flashbang going off in the distance.

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Go ahead, son."

"I'd ask why a naval officer goes directly to ASOC, Sir."

"You didn't expect to see me again after Torfan, did you?" the man asked while looking at him.

"No, at least not as long as the armistice holds," he replied with the truth.

"Can I assume that you heard of the destruction of the Budapest?"

"Yes, Sir," of course he had heard of it. It wasn't every day the HSA lost a cruiser with all hands.

"Then you also know that the Inversio System is just one jump away from batarian space," the admiral said as he turned to look at him, continuing once Haugen had nodded his reply. "I don't have to tell you how bad it looks when a human warship gets destroyed at the Hegemony's border, do I?"

"No, Sir," Haugen replied. "Are we going in to finish the job, Sir?" he asked next.

"As much as I'd like to confirm that, no," Hackett said as they kept walking over the series of walkways built over the training grounds. "Have you already been briefed about the increasing instability of the Hegemony's inner circles?"

"I heard that some of the powerful non-ruling families are looking to change the status quo now that the Amons lost face, Sir."

"Good, that'll save us some time," the admiral nodded. "Does the name Balak still ring a bell, Captain?"

"Yes, Sir." How couldn't it? It was part of the reason why his name had been removed from all but the most confidential reports of the attack on Torfan and also somewhat responsible for the effectiveness of the asari-supported fear campaign the HSA had run based on his actions, turning a raid into the story of the 'Demon of Torfan' through both a few well-placed exaggerations and the right connections.

"As far as we know, the Balak family got the worst of the chairman's wrath after the end of the Skyllian Blitz. Their family head got executed for incompetent leadership and his sons and their kids were banned from ever rising above the rank of lieutenant," the admiral went on. "The fact that you took out two prominent members of their family just added insult to injury. They've been the laughing stock of the Hegemony's military caste ever since."

"Serves them right," Haugen shrugged. While he didn't believe that children were responsible for the actions of their parents, he was certain that anyone with the name 'Balak' was a bastard. As far as he was concerned, they had it coming.

"That it does," Hackett replied. "Problem is, the older brother of the guys you shot on Torfan doesn't agree with us," the man began to explain as he pulled a small tablet from the pocket of his dress uniform and handed it to Haugen, "This is Ka'hairal Balak, former commander of the Batarian External Forces."

"Former?" he asked as he grabbed the tablet and rotated it so he could actually see what was on it.

"He got discharged a couple of months ago," Hackett replied as the ASOC operative got a good look at the batarian, a cold shiver running down his back as he recognized his face. He had seen him before, he had been one of the slavers who had raided Mindoir and he had been the one who had taken a sadistic pleasure in tormenting a girl not two meters away from Haugen while all he could do was watch. Ever since that day, he had sworn to himself not to forget that face until it's owner lay dead at his feet. Grabbing the edge of the terminal slightly harder to mask his anger, Haugen turned to the admiral who continued his briefing. "Ever since his uncle was executed, he's been looking to restore his family's name and with everything going on these days, no one in the Hegemony can be bothered to stop him this time."

"He's making a move on us?"

"That's what HSAIS is telling me," the admiral nodded.

"Do we know what he's planning?"

"No," Hackett shook his head. "And that's exactly where you come into play. I came here to give you and your squad a new assignment. Your instructor days are over."

"Sir?" he wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Balak has nothing to lose and he won't stop at anything to get what he wants," Hackett replied."Stopping him will need someone who gets the job done no matter what," he still didn't see how that made his team the first choice but judging by the admiral's expression, he was about to explain it to him. "Your team almost single handedly took down a slaver fortress. Even after you got cut off from the other teams, you put your mind to it and told me that you could do it. I believed you and you came through even bigger than I though youu would," the man said. "That's the kind of mindset that's going to stop someone like Balak."

"How's this going to work then, Sir?"

"I already ran it by top-brass and they gave me the all-clear. From here on out, you and Phantom Squad answer to no one but me. I give you the missions and you tell me what you need to get it done," he said as he came to a halt, unaffected by the breaching charge explosion just a few meters behind them. "You're going to be the tip of my spear, Captain Haugen, and you're going to kill that bastard for me before he gets his will. Are we clear?"

"Crystal clear, Sir."

"Good. Get your gear and report to my shuttle."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

 **Late 2155 CE** **, Palaven,** **Mausoleum of the 22nd Palavani Legion**

The turian clad in white armor walked through the hall, passing hundreds of the small compartments storing the ashes of turians that had died during their service to this legion. There were more names etched into the than he could count, some of them dating back to the Unification War, others being far more recent but all of them had one thing in common, they had paid the ultimate price for the Hierarchy.

If he was entirely honest with himself, Saren didn't exactly know why he had come here. He knew that there had been a reason why he had returned to his home but now that he was actually here, he failed to come up with an answer. Had it been something about the asari aboard Sovereign? Had he been sent here to find something that could finally break her spirit? It had already been two weeks since her capture yet in spite of Sovereign's strength and the righteousness of their mission, she still refused to see the truth, continuing to defy his will. As if that alone wasn't bad enough, Benezia T'Soni had also been declared missing in the time it had taken them to get to this point, a fact that meant that she would not return to power any time soon. Saren sighed as the whisper told him that she, a very influential matriarch, would still be more than useful, even if her chosen replacement on the council wouldn't serve them like she would've, Benezia's most loyal followers would still heed her call once she too embraced her true purpose.

Reassured by this knowledge, he let go of his worries and extended his hand as he walked through the long corridor, the tips of his fingers brushing against the steel facade, giving him time to contemplate just how many of his people had given everything to uphold the order they believed in, an order he now recognized to have been doomed from its very beginning. This had been the place it had started, where Desolas and he had set out to fight something they couldn't possibly hope to defeat. Spirits had he been naive back then, thinking that he could actually break a cycle that had repeated itself countless of times. He truly was grateful for the fact that he knew better now, that he finally recognized what needed to be done. Sovereign had already called for him, a prothean ruin had been discovered on Eden Prime and the classified report he had received via the Spectre network had mentioned that for the first time in forever, a functioning prothean beacon had been discovered amongst the remains of the long-dead civilization.

Soon he'd be able to fullfill his purpose.

"Bassilo," he muttered after coming to a stop in front of a very familiar compartment and forgetting about his last thought. Saren placed his hand on the cold steel just as the last rays of Palaven's sun shone through the entrance of the building, their warm touch feeling strangely cold on his skin, but even though he felt like he was in the right place, he also felt like something was deeply wrong with him. As he read the engraving on the compartment, he sighed again. "It's been far too long," he finally admitted before a sudden moment of clarity, he experienced them every so often when being reminded of his past, managed to snap him out of the trance he was in just enough for him to remember what exactly it was that was causing him to slowly lose himself.

Indoctrination.

"I know that I'm going down a dark path," he said as he tried and failed to bring up his omni-tool in another attempt to warn Desolas, stopping his own hands just one movement away from contacting him. "But I don't think there's any other way for me to save them," he muttered as he felt the whisper close in again, surprisingly enough finding the strength to keep it out on his own by thinking back to the reason why he was doing all of this.

"I tried to fight them and I lost," Saren whispered as he turned around and set down on the ground, leaning his back against the steel wall behind him. "They were just too strong," he could feel the whisper grow impatient and even though he still couldn't bring himself to warn everyone about what would soon happen, he somehow managed to control himself to the point where he could keep them at bay for the time being by fighting the urge to get up. "Everything they believed in, everything they died to uphold," he muttered after staring down the length of the mausoleum, the rays of light glinting off the polished compartments, "Everything you fought for? It's all at risk," there was a strange quiver in his voice, allowing him to feel something he hadn't felt in months.

Fear.

What was it that he had come here for?

Why couldn't he remember?

Realising that he wouldn't get an answer to that question, the Spectre again turned his head the way he had come from, seeing the sun vanish beyond the small hills surrounding the mausoleum. As the orange glow of the sky now made way for the dark of the night, reminding him that he'd soon have to get going, the faint memory of being needed elsewhere came back to him alongside the whisper. Taking in the last rays of daylight, Saren felt the need to remind himself that every night, no matter how dark it go, eventually passed. Such was the natural order of things.

In the end there would always be a morning.

"I guess I came to you to say farewell. This might be the last time I'll be on Palavan", he said as another memory came back to him and he threw his head back, staring at the ceiling of the mausoleum just as an internal timer turned on the lamps above him and blinded him for a few seconds.

Why was he having such a hard time remembering certain things?

Why did it feel like he was losing himself piece by piece?

The answer was in front of him yet he couldn't quite grasp it at the time, focusing far too much on keeping the impatient whisper away from his mind.

"No, I didn't come to say farewell," he mused as he slowly felt the strength that had kept the whisper at bay vanish, rising to his feet even though he felt like staying a bit longer. "I came to give a you a heads up, old friend," the turian whispered as he began to walk away despite every fiber of his being telling him to stay. "I'll be with you sooner than you'd like," he added as he briefly remembered just what it had been that had driven him to come here in the first place, the realisation soon vanishing in favour of new found determination he knew not to be his own.

* * *

 **29\. December 2414, Arcturus Station**

Today would go down as another important mark in humanity's history with the Council

Today would lead them one step closer to what Noé had been working for ever since the HSA had first entered the galactic community.

Today was the day humanity would decide on who they'd recommend as their second Spectre.

Just like last time, the problem wasn't finding a good match, all of these people met that criteria, otherwise they wouldn't have made the list to begin with, it was finding the perfect match. As she swiped through the list of names, passing a series of impressive service records filled with deeds that had altered the outcomes of entire battles, Goyle came to a halt on one person she was more than just familiar with, letting the rest of the committee debate without her for the time being, instead looking at the picture of Alec's daughter.

"So that brings it down to what, five final candidates?" one of the members sighed from his position at the table.

"Yes. Two from ASOC, two from N7 and another one from our C-SEC program," another replied.

"We only need one and the Council needs our decision," Donnel Udina, the human ambassador to the Citadel Council, reminded them. "We've already delayed the mission to move the beacon for too long. If we don't find someone to accompany Anderson, we'll have to wait for another opportunity to arrive. It's time that we separate the good from the best."

"Let's start with the last one then. I'm not saying Bailey isn't good at what he does but he is the political option, we all know that. He might be a good cop but he won't make the cut as a Spectre," a fourth member offered in a rather cut and dry tone. Goyle wouldn't disagree with her. The woman had a background in law enforcement herself and a as such knew exactly what she was talking about.

"That just leaves the soldiers then," the fifth member summarized. "Again," it wasn't a secret that this politician had hoped for Bailey to be picked. He had always argued that Anderson, an N7 through and through, hadn't been the best choice because as far as he was concerned, his military background had severely limited his perspective as a Spectre. It was why he had only suggested members of law enforcement or HSAIS' regular field teams for candidacy and it was alos why he had asked Goyle to talk to Director Rei in an attempt to persuade him to offer up one of his specialists for the position. But just like last time Section 13 still argued that they couldn't spare any of their agents and just like last time, the Chancellor of the HSA agreed with the notion.

"What's the point of this? We all know that the only actual candidate got blacklisted by Hackett on short notice," one of the four military members of the committee sighed in frustration, "Ma'am, Is it really too late to talk the admiral out of it?" he addressed her directly.

"Captain Haugen might've been your favorite, General, but he wasn't the only actual candidate," another high-ranking officer pointed out.

"I don't see any of you offering alternatives."

That was her cue.

"Well, what about Shepard?" Goyle finally injected into the discussion, causing all eyes to turn towards her.

* * *

 _Codex: Spectres_

 _Founded in 693 CE, the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of the Citadel Council is entrusted with matters of galactic security and draws its agents from the individual species that either make up or are associated with the Citadel Council. Tasked with maintaining stability throughout the galaxy by any means necessary, Spectres are permitted to operate outside the law and either work alone or in small groups depending on their assignments and personal skill set. While most of their operations focus on counter-terrorism and threat prevention, Spectres can also be called upon during times of war, taking out high-value targets and assassinating enemy leaders to disrupt their war effort._

 _Due to their unique task, Spectres are not trained but instead chosen from experienced elite operatives that apply for Spectre Status. Those who are chosen are then placed under an experienced Spectre who evaluates their performance and either recommends them for induction or, in some cases, turns their application down._

 _Another aspect that sets Spectres apart from the likes of STG or Blackwatch is the fact that most Spectres are expected to provide their own gear, a feat most achieve through either personal wealth or connections to influential politicians and military leaders. Only a small fraction of the branch's members can still rely on support from their own governments. While some consider this a disadvantage, others, Spectres among them, argue that this only adds to their operational liberty and gives them yet another means to achieve their missions by allowing them to use less official channels._

 _It should be noted that in spite of being hailed as protectors of the Council, there have been cases of Spectres using these 'less official' channels to work with the likes of the Shadow Broker, the case of Tela Vasir, a former huntress who currently resides within HSA space as a political refugee, only being the most recent one on a much longer list. In addition to this, there have also been instances of rogue Spectres, agents who turn their back on the Citadel and its values. While much rarer than the likes of Vasir, the few cases that have existed, amongst them the infamous Demon of Athena, always caused considerable damage to the galaxy and its people._

* * *

 **A/N:** **And with that, Season 3 begins.**

 **As I said, this chapter is basically all set up. It shows my more tragic version of Saren's plotline in my upcoming adaptation of Mass Effect 1, hints at what each of the backgrounds is going to do and sets up the basic conditions under which the story is gonna kick off.**

 **Now, the decision to pair of Hackett with Haugen is basically me creating a bigger counter part to Anderson and Shepard (who for a reason you might already be able to guess will start out very different from canon). Hackett, for me, is basically the renegade!Anderson and since Haugen is obviously the renegade to Shepard's paragon, it was the best call to pair them up like this.** **Also, as you can obviously tell from here on out, Haugen's plot is going to lead him to a major role in Bring down the Sky. (I'll have more to say to this in a few chapters).**

 **Where Morneau, Paragade (do I still have to add this or is it obvious who's who by now?), is going to fit in with this is something you'll have to wait and see. I hinted at his plotline leading him to the Shadow Broker but there's gonna be more to it as well, mostly because well... alright, I guess I can say it since it's basically something I'd put into a trailer (I really want this to be a series, can you tell? :D) He's gonna bump into Shepard pretty early on into Season 3 and given the last time he had something to do with a Shepard, Season 3 is also going to revolve around theirrelationship to each other (What you want to read into that statement is completely up to you although I actually think I already commented on my stance in regards to this topic. Make your theories go.)**

 **Enough of that. I also wanna say a bit about Saren's pov. Writing indoctrination is kind of weird. If his segments come off as slighty unstrucutred, it's intentional because they're told from HIS point of view and he isn't entirely sure what that is right now. Due to my changes to him, he's obviously struggling with himself. He knows that something is wrong but he can't entirely fix it. This is a trend that's gonna continue as we progress onto the story.**

 **Forme, finding the right approach to this was actually kind of difficult and in the end I opted against giving Sovereign a regular dialogue role. Their connection is different from that.**

 **Alright, enough of that.**

 **You know the drill, let me know what you think.**

 **For the record, we're at 385 reviews, 614 favorites and 715 follows.**

 **See you around next time.**


	47. The Beacon

**Chapter 47. The Beacon**

* * *

 **14:41 Local Time, 4. January 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy**

An application to Spectre Status.

It still didn't sound any less strange than when she had first heard about it a couple of days ago after being pulled away from her regular duties and being sent back to Arcturus for a 'special assignment', something she never would've pictured to turn into a mission with no other than Captain David Anderson, the first human Spectre. While she had yet to learn the actual details of her operation, her superiors themselves hadn't been able to tell her what it was that she was supposed to do once they arrived on Eden Prime, she simply worked under the assumption that it would be something equally important and difficult because again, this was apparently a test to see if she could follow in Anderson's footsteps. Emily wasn't exactly sure what had driven the people who had made this decision to choose her but she knew that she wouldn't let them down. After all, the opportunity she had been given was of immense importance, not just for herself but for the political future of the HSA.

"The Arcturus Prime Relay is in range. Initiating transmission sequence," the pilot, who according to the marine lieutenant she had briefly spoken to after getting aboard chose to go by the name 'Joker', spoke over the intercom as she made her way to the bridge, sidestepping crew members and trying not to get into the way of whatever it was that they had to get done befoe they hit the relay. "We are connected, calculating transit mass and destination," the helmsman went on in an almost too casual tone considering he was about to fling them across space. "The relay is hot. Acquiring approach vector. All stations secure for transit."

Her career had allowed her to travel on a lot of human ships but as she passed by the rows of holographic control screens lining each side of the narrow bow of the Normandy, she couldn't help but notice just how different this vessel was from most of them. The stealth ship wasn't just a state-of-the-art blend of human and turian engineering, it was ahead of the curve in almost all regards. When she had first heard of the Normandy and its sistership, she had chalked a lot of the recognition it got up to the ego of the navy's ego but now that she was actually aboard one of them, she could without a doubt say that the vessel was every bit as impressive as top-brass insisted it to be.

"Hitting the relay in three, two, one," she heard from the chair in front of her as she reached the bridge just in time to admire the blue glow of the enormous structure in front of her. No matter how often she watched this part of space travel, it never got less impressive. It was only when the visual spectacle had passed, that Emily noticed who it was that had claimed the seat next to the pilot.

"Thrusters, check. Navigation, check. Internal emissions sink engaged. All systems online, drift just under fifteen hundred K," 'Joker' summarized with, ending on a rather smug tone.

"Fifteen hundred's good, you trying to show off for the Spectre?" the marine lieutenant from earlier offered in return while looking through a series of sensor readings, likely looking for something the ground team could use.

"Good?" the pilot asked as he turned his head, "I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead. That's not good, that's incredible," he insisted before once returning to his duties, "Besides, Spectres are trouble. Call be paranoid but I don't like having him on board, not after what happened to the Budapest."

"Fine, you're paranoid," the dark-haired man replied. "An ambush like that could've happened to any ship. Spectre on board or not."

"The ambush's the official story, Alenko. Only idiots believe the official story. "

"Are you calling me stupid, Joker?"

"That is the logical conclusi-" Alright, enough of that. Emily cleared her throat, causing both of them to turn their heads.

"Commander Shepard," the marine said surprised as he rose to his feet, beating Joker to the punch, who by the looks of it hadn't felt the need to stand up either way. Given that he was the one piloting the ship, it was probably for the better. "I was wondering when you'd pay the bridge a visit. Do you have our orders?" he asked, his light-brown eyes looking at her in expectation.

"Because it would be nice to know what we're doing here," Joker added dryly as his hands danced over the controls, steering them away from the relay.

"I'm afraid I know as much as much as you do, Lieutenant- uhm," Wait. Damnit. What had been his name? She knew that he had introduced himself but with all the information that had been dumped on her in regards to the ship, she had already forgotten what his actual name was.

"Alenko, Ma'am," he said after realising what her current damage was.

"Right, Alenko," Way to make a good second impression with the guy in charge of the marines that would likely bail her and Anderson out of any potential mess. "Sorry," she added apologetically.

"No worri-"

"Joker, status report," Anderson's voice rang through the intercom.

"Just cleared the mass relay, Captain. Stealth systems engaged. Everything looks solid," the helmsman replied while swiping a seemingly unimportant hologram to the side.

"Good. Find a commbuoy and link us into the network but don't announce us just yet. I want mission reports relayed back to Arcturus before we reach Eden Prime but I also want to keep a low profile," the N7 turned Spectre spoke before pausing for a moment, unaware that the pilot was shaking his head at each of his words, "and tell Commander Shepard to come and find me in the comm room."

"You get that, Commander?"

"I'm on my way," Emily nodded before going back the way she had come from to hopefully be told what exactly it was that she would be doing.

"I'm telling you, this isn't going to end well for us. He's on some kind of mission and he couldn't care less about what happens to us," she heard one of the crew members say as she passed by the large holographic map located in the center of the very turian CIC of the Normandy.

"He's a Spectre, Pressly, they're always on a mission," another figured as he checked some readings on a tablet. "Just cut the man some slack, will you?"

"I'll hold you to that when our escape pods are blown up."

Well, one thing was for certain. A lot of the crew really didn't like having Anderson onboard. Since she knew that the Budapest, for whatever reason considering it had 'just' been another cruiser, albeit one that rarely worked alongside larger naval formation, had drawn its crew from the same training programs like this stealthship, Emily figured that the cause for this apparent hostility was that a lot of the Normandy's handpicked crew had known people who had died on the day of the Budapest's destruction and still held a lot of resentment about it.

While she understood the logic behind it, she couldn't say that it was a justified notion and only the knowledge that Anderson was waiting for her to get to the comm room kept her from telling her fellow lieutenant commander just how far out of line he was considering that Anderson, Spectre or not, was still a captain in the same navy as the two of them and until further notice the acting officer of the ship they served on, the Normandy's original commander having passed the position onto him for the duration of his stay. Coming to a halt in front of the door just as she heared yet another crew member, this one a marine, tell the ship's doctor how nothing on Eden Prime would be of any interest to the Spectre, Emily began to wonder if her and the crew would've been better off being told the details of this mission before they had ever arrived at their destination. It certainly would've avoided the atmosphere all of this secrecy was creating.

Funny.

Secrecy.

If it hadn't been for her already turning the corner and opening the door to walk up to Anderson, that single thought would've succeeded in bringing her back six months in time to a place she'd rather not go to at the moment or ever really.

"Commander Shepard," Anderson, wearing an onyx black set of armor similar to her own, greeted as he turned away from the screen he had been looking at, the depiction of what she assumed to be their destination on Eden Prime behind her. "I think it's about time somebody told you what's really going on here," he offered. "Besides the obvious, I mean." That obvious would again be her Spectre candidacy, which still didn't sound a single bit less weird. "We're making a covert pick-up on Eden Prime," that explained the stealth frigate.

"A pick-up?" she knew she shouldn't jump to conclusions but this didn't sound like the kind of mission that you'd sent someone who you consider as a Spectre candidate on.

"A research team unearthed a prothean beacon during an excavation," he explained. A working prothean beacon? Here on Eden Prime? This was the exact kind of mission you'd use to assess a future Spectre. Prothean artifacts, especially the ones which still worked after all this time, were among the most prized discoveries one could make. "In accordance to Council law, the two of us are going to oversee its transportation and hand it over to the proper authorities, preferably without tipping off any of the units currently exercising nearby," Emily raised her eyebrow.

"Why not just tell them to stop their maneuvers until we're done?" she finally decided to ask. She knew that these joint maneuvers were something of a tradition for Eden Prime but surely they could do something about it given the circumstances.

"Because we'll hardly get a better reason to lock down the excavation area than a nearby armored exercise," Anderson reasoned. "First lesson of the day, Commander, never pass up a good cover story," he offered with a smile. "Besides, a turian legion and a mechanized infantry brigade are probably the best security screen we'll get for this op," he added with a wave of his hand. "Now, let's get down the details, shall we?" the captain asked with a small smile. "Since this is just the first of several missions you'll accompany me on, I want to see how you do things so naturally, you'll be in charge of the ground team. Get to the beacon, prep it for transport and make sure to keep things quiet. Just a simple in and out for me to-"

"Captain, we got a problem," Joker's voice suddenly rang through the intercom, interrupting whatever else the Spectre had been about to say.

"What's wrong, Joker?"

"We just got an transmission from Eden Prime, audio only but it sounds bad," the pilot explained as the picture of the dig site disappeared from the screen behind them in favour of the frequency they were being hailed on, the familiar sound of gunfire causing both Anderson and Shepard to turn their heads almost instantaneously, the heavy static accompanying it making it somewhat more difficult to understand what was actually being said.

"I say again, threat condition Saber-One!" a voice called as a distinctively turian scream in the background was followed by the call for a medic. "Eden Prime is under attack. Forces of the 38th Legion rendering assi-" a detonation silenced whatever else the man had been about to say.

"Everything cuts out after that, no civilian comm traffic, no more transmissions from the local Colonial Watch. Everything just goes dead."

"Alright, give me a status report on the fleet in orbit," the Spectre asked almost immediately.

"I already tried them, it's the same thing. They're not responding, Sir."

"What do you mean they're not responding?"

"I'm getting no signal from either our own or from any of the turian ships supposedly present in the system, Sir."

"So they've been destroyed?" Anderson asked while nodding towards the door, causing Emily to fall in line with him as he left the room.

"Either that or there's some kind of jammer in place," the pilot figured as the two of them stepped into the Normandy's elevator. "I've already put a distress call back through the relay but even from Arcturus, the nearest QRF is at least another two hours out."

"Our ETA?"

He wasn't serious was he? Stealth ship or not, a single frigate wouldn't stop what appeared to be an invasion force big enough to not only take on the local forces already present on Eden Prime but also the additional soldiers currently partaking in the maneuvers between the HSA and the Turian Hierarchy. Considering that well over a hundred thousand soldiers were permanently stationed on the world, she failed to see how another frigate would make a difference.

"Ten minutes, Sir."

"Good," wait he wasn't really going to- "Take us in, Joker, fast and quiet," apparently he was serious.

"This mission just got a lot more complicated, Commander," that was one way to put it. "We've got to get to that dig site. Whoever's attacking Eden Prime has to know that we're here to pick up the beacon. It's the only reason they would risk an attack during the joint exercises."

"So they'll be expecting us," Emily figured as the elevator doors opened upon arriving in the hangar, revealing a squad of marines, Alenko amongst them, in the midst of preparations.

"Definitely," Anderson nodded as he grabbed one of the two lone onyx black N7 helmets of the armory table before tossing Emily's towards her. "It's all forest and hills down there, the Mako won't be of much use," he called to the engineer currently kneeling in front of the vehicle parked in the center of the hangar. If she had to take a guess, the idea to equipt the frigate with an IFV alongside of normal shuttles had been a turian one. While it wasn't exactly human doctrine to have frigates deploy tanks directly to the surface, the Paladins that accompanied each drop provided more than enough firepower, she knew that the Hierarchy loved to have their frigates do exactly that. "Besides, a small team can probably slip by easier," he added to Emily herself.

"Any changes to our plan, Sir?" she asked in return, all the while inspecting her SR-9. While it wasn't as familiar as the hybrid design she had worked with for most of her career, she certainly wouldn't complain about the weight and space freed up by the fact that the Valkyrie didn't require magazines or bullets to operate.

"Not at the moment but we both know how long plans tend to survive in combat," the Spectre replied as he nodded towards the marines. "We'll be on the ground soon so I suggest you make your pick and get ready to drop."

"Understood, Sir," Emily replied before turning towards the marines. "Lieutenant Alenko, on me," she called into the room, not entirely certain which of the armored figures he actually was.

"Here, Commander," one of the almost indistinguishable soldiers called as he turned on his heel and headed towards her.

"When we make Planetfall, I'm going to need your two best men with me," it wasn't the size of the unit she usually worked with but four people, including herself and Anderson, was as big of a group as she was willing to chance given that they were supposed to slip by unnoticed.

"Instead of taking the punch out of the squad, may I offer an alternative, Ma'am?"

"I'm listening."

"Jenkins is a local, Eden Prime born and raised. He says he grew up in the area. If we take him with us, he could give us some valuable insight."

"Us?" Emily raised an eyebrow at the soldier standing in front of her as she caught that particular detail.

"Yes, us. The other marine I'm recommending is myself, Ma'am," the lieutenant said.

"You're their lieutenant, Alenko," she pointed out.

"I trust Sergeant Harrison to lead in my place," he countered. "Additionally, I think my abilities will be far more useful for your assignment."

"Your abilities?" Alenko certainly was shaping up into one of the stranger marines she had met during her time.

"I'm a biotic, Ma'am."

"You're a biotic?" she asked surprised. This certainly wasn't what she had expected but then again, nothing about this special assignment was shaping up to her expectations.

"Yes, Ma'am" Alenko nodded.

"Don't get me wrong but shouldn't you be in a biotic unit then?" she asked again. Outside of N7, it was unusual to see biotics mix with regular grunts. Due to making up only an small portion of the armed forces, biotic humans tended to be put into specialized biotic units, a concept the HSA had most definitely adopted from the turian Cabal Corps.

"I was until I got a transfer to the Normandy four weeks ago," the lieutenant spoke through his helmet, the mirrored visor only allowing Emily to look at her own reflection. Four weeks? So that's how long top-brass had been planning this entire thing.

"Alright," she finally nodded. "Your recommendation has been noted. You and Jenkins are with me," there was no reason not to trust the officer. Biotics were considered a valuable resource for a reason and even if he only had been here for four weeks, he was still more familiar with the marines than she was.

"Two minutes out, Captain," a voice echoed through the hangar, causing the red-haired woman to pull her helmet on and make her way to the ramp to stand next to Anderson. "You might want to grab onto something, you know, just in case we get shot out of the sky on our way down." While on the subject of strange lieutenants, Emily began to suspect that the helmsman of the frigate would soon earn a place on that list as well.

"Shepard, once we're on the ground, I want you to head straight for the beacon. Don't stop for anything, is that clear?"

"What about survivors, Sir?" there were bound to be some of them. Colonial Watches didn't go down without a fight.

"Helping survivors has to be a secondary objective for you," Anderson replied with a sigh. "If you find any civilians, report them to Harrison and move on."

"And what about friendlies?" Alenko spoke up.

"Unless they're directly in your way, they'll have to fend for themselves."

"Understood," the biotic replied in a stoic tone. It wasn't the solution she would've liked but in a situation like this one, they couldn't lose focus in favour of every firefight they saw go on in the distance.

"Approaching drop point one, Captain," Joker informed them as a hiss caused the ramp to lower itself, revealing a dark-orange sky and causing the wind to rush into the hangar, its noise carrying with it the sound of distant explosions,

"I think this is my stop," the Spectre called as the Normandy began to descend even more, rapidly passing over the sea of green below it. While she didn't particular look forward to fighting through a forest, it was still better than urban terrain. "Remember, the beacon is our top priority. Get to the site and secure it at any cost."

"You're not coming with us, Sir?" the N7 wondered, too focused on the Spectre to pay notice to the sky that was slowly turning dark-red above them.

"Since we still don't know what we're up against, I'll scout ahead and give you status updates as you go," he explained as the frigate slowed down and he walked to the edge of the ramp. "Hopefully that way both of us won't walk into the same ambush," he added as he leaned forward, first taking in the ground below him and then looking back up the way some tracer fire was going. "Good luck, Shepard" Anderson offered before jumping out of the craft.

"Moving on to drop point two," the helmsman informed them as Shepard watched the black-armored figure vanish into the forest.

"What the hell was that?" she heard Jenkins mutter, causing her to look up again just in time to see another red lighting bolt shoot through the noticeably darker sky.

"You're the local, Jenkins. You tell us," Alenko shrugged as another surge fo red danced through the clouds above them,

"I've lived here eighteen years, Lieutenant," the young man muttered as the weather phenomena grew more intense, turning from lone lighting bolts into something that reminded her of a thunder storm. "Never seen anything like it."

"Whatever it is, we should stay as far away from it as we can," she figured.

"Approaching drop point tw- shit! Brace for evasive maneuvers," Joker interrupted his own transmission, giving Emily just enough time to grab a hold of one of the beams responsible for lowering the ramp and keeping herself and Jenkins, who she managed to catch just in time, from being thrown out of the craft during the hard-right turn the Normandy had to execute.

"What's going on Jok-" she began only to be silenced by her own lack of words when a bright, red beam shot down from the sky just behind them, impacting right on top of a railway bridge and incinerating the metal construct and everything surrounding it in an instant.

"Jesus," she heard Alenko mutter as she pulled Jenkins, who briefly nodded his thanks, back to his feet and away from the ramp right as the Normandy made another turn away from the destruction. "What was that?"

"I've got no idea, Lieutenant," Emily replied, failing to come up with an answer. While it had obviously been some kind of bombardment, she had never seen a weapon like this before. "Joker, talk to me. Do we have an alternative LZ?" she asked as she chose to focus on the problem at hand. There was no point in thinking about how screwed they'd be if they got caught in a blast like that.

"I can bring you down at the next clearing," the pilot offered. "But you're gonna have to walk to the dig site from there."

Well, they didn't have much of a choice now, did they? With the bridge gone, the train wasn't an option anyway.

"It's all we got, make it happen."

"Way ahead of you, Ma'am," the pilot said as she realised that the Normandy was once more slowing down. He might be odd but Joker certainly showed initiative, she could see the value in that.

"Appreciate it," she replied before taking a step forward and dropping out of the Normandy, the two marines following close behind her. When they dropped down and weren't immediately greeted by gunfire, the N7 looked around the small clearing they were in, suspiciously eyeing the tree lines in the expectation of an ambush before giving the other two the signal to move. "Gentlemen, let's find ourselves a prothean beacon," she said as the group began to move down a small hill, the fact that this was a battlefield and that they could be shot at any minute now present in each of their minds.

"Commander, I just passed by a couple of crashed Vultures, it looks like mass accelerators shot them down." Anderson radioed through.

"Copy that, Captain," replied, still searching the tree lines as they passed by. "Be advised, we were forced to divert from our drop point. Over."

"Yes, I saw that," the captain said, a tone she couldn't quite place accompanying his reply. "Can you still make your way to the dig site?" he asked a moment later.

"Already on our way, Sir."

"Good. Stay frost out there. Anderson out."

"Maybe it's just a bunch of pirates," Jenkins offered after the transmission ended.

"There's no way they'd get past the fleets, Jenkins," Alenko countered a moment later. "Besides, pirates don't have that kind of weapon," he added, nodding towards the large smoke pillar climbing into the darkened sky above them.

"What about the batarians?"

"If they got this deep into our territory without someone noticing? Possibly," he offered. "Still doesn't explain what just happened."

"Whoever it is," the commander said while the group passed another clearing, allowing her to get a good look at the distant outlines of one of Eden Prime's smaller settlements, likely the place Jenkins had been raised in. Noticing that it appeared to be completely undamaged in spite of the battle being fought near it, Shepard began to wonder what kind of invasion this was. "It doesn't look like they're here for the planet," she said. Anderson had been right, their enemy was after the beacon, otherwise they would push the battle into the direction of the city to establish a more permanent foothold, not fight them in the wild and wait for the army to come to them.

"So not the batarians either. Got it," the younger marine shrugged before turning his head into the direction of the forest, an action both her and Alenko had already taken a few moments earlier, their guns trained on the source of the snapping branches.

"Take it easy, guys," Jenkins suddenly chuckled as he lowered his gun in spite of the noise repeating itself. "It's just a gas bag," he added as a strange animal emerged from the forest to briefly look at them, moving on without even the hint of hostility not a moment later. "They're harmless," the private explained before the three of them once more continued their march, Emily only now picking up on the fact that the sound of battle, which had previously grown with every step they closed in on the dig site, had died down.

This was either a very good or a very bad thing.

Either way, they had to reach their objective.

"Jenkins, you're up. Take point," she ordered as she took in the rocky area up ahead, trying to decide how long it would take a hostile force to get from their objective to the small hillside ahead of them and coming to the conclusion that if they put their legs into it, they could already be waiting for them.

"On it," the marine replied before he advanced under the watchful eyes of both herself and Alenko, steadily making his way forward.

"Shepard," her radio came to live again as Anderson gave her another update. "I just ran into a bunch of army grunts, they're saying it's geth."

"The geth?" she repeated, still watching Jenkins who by now had made it to the foot of the hillside. "What would the geth want on Ede-" the N7 paused as a more pressing concern came to mind. Where was that low whine coming from and why was it getting louder every second?

Wait.

Shit.

"Jenkins, get down!" she called just a moment before a swarm of small purple drones shot from the forest and down the hill, the guns attached to their belly opening fire almost immediately and even with their terrible accuracy, tearing into the marines and shredding through both his shields and his hardsuit thanks to the sheer volume of their fire. As her own Valkyrie barked in an attempt to stop the onslaught, she saw the private go down in the corner of her eyes in spite of the drones rapidly falling victim to the sand-grain sized projectiles leaving her own barrel, their fragile shields and basically non-existent armor making it rather easy for the N7 and Alenko to take them out. Not a second after the last of the drones crashed to the ground and exploded in a rather spectacular fashion for something of its size, the commander rushed to the side of the unmoving Jenkins, kneeling down next to him and pulling a syringe of medigel from one of the pouches attached to her armor. Only when it became evident that the drones had riddled the young man's torso with small holes, puncturing his lung, heart and by the looks of the rapid red flow originating from just below his head, also his neck, did she realise that nothing she could do would make a difference for Jenkins.

He was already dead.

"There's nothing else we can do for him," she said as she pulled a set of identification tags from Jenkins' chest rig just as Alenko came to a stop next to her, looking down at both her and the corpse, his facial expression hidden by the darkened visor most of the HSA's helmets included. "I need you to focus right now, alright?" she added, receiving a brief nod from the marine that led her to believe that this wasn't the first time he had lost a fellow soldier. She was certain that he didn't like the idea of leaving the body like this but they didn't have much of a choice now, they could come back for him later.

"Captain, come in. I'm a man short. Jenkins is dead," she spoke into her radio while getting up and slipping into the mindset that she had come to adopt whenever someone under command died. There'd be time for that later, now she had to focus on the job.

"Damn it," the Spectre replied after a moment. "Alright, keep making your way to the beacon, I'll try to link up with you as soon as I can. Anderson out. "

"Alright Lieutenant, let's keep moving," Emily sighed as they began to climb up the hill, stepping over the remnant of one of the drones, a white liquid leaking from its damaged frame and tainting the grass around it, in the process.

"Right behind you, Ma'am," the man replied as she looked away from the broken machine, deciding that she best not think about what the geth were planning on doing with a prothean beacon. After reaching the top of the next hill, Alenko and her began to make their way through the wooded area from which the drones had emerged, the knowledge that more geth could be waiting for the two of them causing them to be far more cautious, especially once the familiar noise of gunfire began to echo through the trees.

"It sounds close," Alenko muttered as another burst, fired from what she recognized as an SR-8, rang through the air.

"It is," she confirmed as they inched towards the end of the small woods, coming to a stop only when she raised her fist upon once more hearing the low whine from before.

Not this time.

As the N7 readied herself to take care of the drones, leaning around one of the trees and aiming the way from which the sound was coming from, focusing on the hill opposite of them. Noticed that the human-made gunfire had vanished, she believed whoever had been responsible for it to be dead until a figure appeared from beyond the hill's bent, running towards them across the small valley, another swarm of the drones right behind her, their shots causing sporadic blue sparks whenever they hit her shields. Intending to save the marine, the dark-grey paintjob of her hardsuit allowing Emily to tell that this wasn't a member of the army, from Jenkins' fate, the commander opened fire on the first of the dozen or so drones pursuing the woman below, Alenko almost immediately joining in. Realising that she was no longer on her own, the new arrival threw herself into cover and produced a sidearm from the holster on her leg before also opening up on the drones. With three trained soldiers facing them down, the automated geth, which she figured would be far less competent than the actual war platforms she had read about, were soon defeated.

"Are you ok?" Emily called to the marine on her way down, who only now turned towards them, lowering her weapon as soon as she recognized them as friendlies.

"Yes, Ma'am," the woman nodded as she exchanged the magazine of her slightly outdated weapon. "Staff Sergeant Williams, 17th Marines," she added a moment later. "Are you the reinforcements?"

"Not exactly," the N7 replied. "What happened here, Williams?" This might be the only chance she'd get to ask that from somebody who had been on the ground from the moment the attack had begun.

"They just came out of nowhere. One moment the comms go dark and no one knows what's happening, then geth gunships start bombing our barracks and dropping off troops all over the region," she explained. "Me and my team barely made it to the woods. I don't think anybody else got out in time."

"Your team?" Emily asked next, already having her suspicions as she looked at another one of the broken drones.

"The geth got them," Williams confirmed before clutching her left side. So much for ok. "The bloody geth," she repeated as the adrenaline wore down, likely causing her to start feeling one of her injuries. "What are they even doing here? There sure as hell aren't enough of them to take the planet."

"I-" before Shepard could even think about whether or not she should lie to Williams, a scream echoed from the way the marine had come from, causing all three of them to turn around just in time to see two geth, this time not drones but real troopers, grab a hold of a dock worker that had apparently been trying to get to them and drag him back beyond the hill. Neither the marines nor the N7 wasted a second before breaking into a sprint, rushing past the broken drones and towards the hill. Pressing her rifle's stock to her shoulder, Shepard cleared the bent as the first of them, arriving just in time to see the geth force the man down onto some kind of device from which, much to her horror, a long spike emerged, impaling the human and carrying him up high, a burst of blood shooting from his chest and taking the air out of his lung.

Was this some kind of terror tactic?

She didn't waste a second before opening up on the geth. Whatever it was, she'd put a stop to it. As her sights aligned themselves with the flashlight-like head of the geth and her finger pressed against the Valkyrie's trigger, she barely had time to register just how unconcerned the trooper seemed to be about its impending destruction. Instead of diving for cover or panicking, it simply made an attempt to go for the weapon on its back before her shots ripped apart its torso, spilling more of the white fluid onto the geth next to it and the device between them. Before she could shift her aim to repeat the process on the other synthetic, it was effortlessly lifted from the ground by a purple field before being flung into the distance.

Alenko had been right, his abilities were useful.

"What were they doing with him?" the lieutenant asked a moment later, looking up at the dead human impaled on the spike.

"I don't know, but this isn't the only one of these thing. I saw more of them on my way here," Williams replied as Shepard herself looked at the device, its strange dark-purple coloration quite unlike anything else she had ever seen."Is this what they've been doing beyond the Veil all this time? Coming up with more ways to kill us?"

"Williams," she said as she made a decision she may come to regret depending on Anderson's reaction. "What do you know about the dig site?" She had been told to keep a low profile but with Jenkins dead and the geth invading Eden Prime, she needed all the help she could get, profile be damned.

"We were told to stay clear of it, don't disturb the eggheads while they dust off some prothean antenna," the marine replied. "Why?"

"Because my mission is to retrieve a prothean beacon from it and starting now, you're part of that mission," she said, her eyes set on the series of green tents, prefabs and the large, black pillar close by. "Fall in." To her credit, the NCO didn't ask any further questions before the group moved past the strange spike and on to the hilltop on which the dig site was located.

"Captain, we're about to reach the beacon," she spoke into her radio just as she stepped into the first tent, her weapon at the ready from the moment she entered its sterile white interior. "Where are you?"

"I ran into some geth but I'm on my way," he replied. "Secure the objective and wait for me."

"Understood," she said before her group cleared what appeared to be an airlock set up between the entrance tent and a large prefab, coming to a stop when quite literally stumbling upon the remains of at least two dozen geth troopers, several dead scientists and a squad of deceased soldiers clad in white, blood-stained sets of heavy armor marked with nothing but a golden hexagon she didn't recall ever seeing before.

"Who are these guys?" the lieutenant wondered as they moved past a series of computer terminals that looked like they had been torn open by someone searching for something.

"Whoever they are, they put up a hell of a fight," Williams noted as they passed another one of the unknown soldiers, a knife stained by a white fluid still clutched in his hand and a destroyed geth lying by his feet.

Who were these people and what had they been doing inside of the excavation site? By the looks of it they had definitely been guarding the site and its staff but even then, the fact that she couldn't place them made Shepard weary. The most obvious answer that came to her mind was that this was some kind of HSAIS field team but she knew from personal experience that these teams didn't do asset protection, leaving only the possibility of these soldiers being part of either a private military outfit, which seemed unlikely given the HSA's dislike for mercenaries, or, more realistically, a black ops outfit that worked on a level beyond N7 security clearance.

Did Anderson know?

Emily shook her head, this wasn't the time for questions like this. Marching into the next airlock, which by the looks of it lead into a much larger tent covering the excavation site itself, she decided to cut the decontamination short upon seeing the remains of more dead humans and geth up ahead. Instead of waiting for the protocol to finish, she ordered Alenko to force open the door and stepped inside, the mess of disconnected cables in the center of the large tent, the distinctively empty transport platform and the absence of the prothean beacon confirming what she had already been fearing from the moment they had found the first of the geth.

"Check the cameras," she told Alenko before radioing the Spectre. "Captain, the beacon's not here," she began. "It looks like the geth took it."

"Damn it," the Spectre cursed. "Do you now where to?" she turned to Alenko.

"Looks like the Smith Cargo Spaceport, Ma'am," he offered quickly.

"They went to the nearby spaceport," she replied.

"Probably trying to get if off-world," the Spectre muttered. "Alright, reroute to the spaceport, I'll try to meet you there."

"Commander, If they plan on moving it any further, we won't make it in time," Alenko injected again.

"You catch that, Captain?"

"Yes. Lieutenant Alenko is right, they already have a head start. If they got a ship ready, there's no way we're going to catch them," Anderson replied. "I might have an idea, switch to a general frequency," he ordered.

"Copy that," the N7 said before complying and making the necessary adjustments all the while beginning to leave the tent behind her.

"This is Captain David Anderson calling any forces in the vicinity of the Smith Cargo Spaceport. Come in, over."

So much for the low profile.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

"Any survivors near the SCS, please come in," he repeated when no reply came, audibly sighing into the radio just before a crackle came through.

"What's a Spectre doing on Eden Prime?" a flanging, turian voice replied between bursts of gunfire. "This is about the beacon, isn't it?" he added after what sounded like an explosion

"How do you kn-" Anderson caught himself. "Who is this? Please identify yourself," Anderson called as Shepard and her two companions stepped out of the tent, suddenly finding themselves face to face with a squad of geth waiting next to more of the strange machines from earlier, strangely disfigured, bluish human figures impaled by each of them. As they started to engage the synthetic soldiers, her radio remained active.

"Captain Darius Xentax, Sir," the turian spoke as she downed the first of the geth. "Turian Blackwatch."

"Do you have eyes on the beacon?" Anderson asked as Shepard herself was forced back into cover, her shields on the verge of collapse after taking a burst of a geth assault rifle.

"Yes, Sir. Looking at it right now," Xentax replied as Alenko and Williams took care of the last of the geth. "Just give the word and we'll dig in and wait for you to get here."

"I can't tell you how long that's going to take," the Spectre said between sharp breaths, indicating that he was currently running.

"We'll be fine, Spectre," the Blackwatch soldier said not a moment later. "Xentax, out."

"Shepard, what's your ETA on the spaceport? They could probably use the help," Captain Anderson asked, this time over the frequency from before.

"Five minu-" she was about to reply when the noise of metal hitting metal caused her to spin on her heel just in time to see the spikes retract back into the device that had produced them, causing the corpses impaled on them to be freed and drop to the ground.

"What's the point of this?" the marine NCO wondered before one of the corpses produced an almost animalistic growl, revealing that it was in fact not a corpse. "God they're still alive," she whispered as Shepard raised her weapon as soon as the figure, which looked even more terrifying now that they were up close, rose to its feet, looking at them for a moment before launching into a sprint.

The N7 didn't know what she was looking at and she didn't know what the geth had done to that human but she was certain of one thing, the claw-like fingertips of this monstrosity would tear right into Williams unless she acted now. As she fired of a burst aimed at the head of the creature, she expected to see blood but instead of the sadly familiar sight, a jet of thick, bluish liquid not unlike the one leaking from destroyed geth appeared. Justifiably expecting that a headshot would put a stop to the creature's charge, she prepared herself to switch targets only to be even more horrified when the reanimated corpse, in spite of missing half its head, leapt towards Williams, who only barely managed to sidestep its attack. Before the bluish being could recover, Shepard fired of two more bursts, an action that while succeeding in killing it, also reduced the time she had to stop the next one which was charging right towards her. Knowing that she wouldn't get another accurate shot off right now, she instead brought her rifle between herself and the thing that was now trying to claw out her throat, briefly mustering her strength before shoving it away just enough to buy her the time necessary to align her rifle with its torso. When she fired, she was surprised to see that a single burst to the circular, glowing orb in the center of its chest was much more successful at putting down this nightmare than the earlier headshot.

"Are you alright, Commander?" Alenko asked as a purple glow dispersed itself around him before he pulled her to his feet, the mangled bluish corpse to his left indicating that the biotic had found an even more effective way to deal with this kind of enemy.

"I think so," she nodded, throwing another look at the three beings and the spikes they had come from, suppressing the uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. "Williams?" she called.

"Fine, Commander," the marine replied through her teeth as she got up, again clutching her left side.

"Don't be stubborn, put some medigel on that," the N7 countered before pulling out one of the several syringes stored in her chest rig and tossing it to the NCO. She wouldn't do any of them a favour by trying to tough it out. When the marine looked at the small tube for a few moments instead of applying it, Shepard sighed. "Consider that an order, Staff Sergeant," she added, finally causing Williams to comply.

"Shepard, are you still there?" Anderson's voice suddenly injected, the hint of concern it carried likely produced by how sudden her last transmission had ended.

"Yes, Captain. We just ran into some trouble. ETA to the spaceport should be two minutes," she said as she looked at the disturbing sight for a final time before instructing her companions to once more move into the direction of their objective, again noticing the dark-red sky above them and recalling the bombardment from earlier, hoping that the port istelf wouldn't be a smoldering crater by the time they go there. "If you run into any of the spikes," she was about to warn him.

"I know, Shepard," the Spectre replied almost to calmly, cutting her short and giving her the impression that he had seen these things before. If that was the case, she and Anderson would need to have a talk after this was over. "I'm almost at the spaceport as well but I can't get through to the turians, something's jamming my comms," he paused for a moment. "Watch yourself out there," he said just as the echo of nearby gunfire reached the commander's position. "Anderson out."

* * *

 **Eight Minutes Earlier, 2156 CE, Eden Prime**

As he marched past the destruction the geth had left in their wake, passing both destroyed troopers and deceased organics, most human, some of his own kind, Saren took another look at the map in his HUD, intending to figure out why all communication with the geth unit tasked with protecting the beacon until he could access it had cut off, the turian Spectre found solice in the fact there was a meaning behind all of this death, that through his actions here, he'd ensure the continuation of something infinitively greater than himself. When he was about to step over the corpse of a dock worker of dark complexion, he paused ever so briefly, not entirely sure why the resemblance had caused this moment of uncertainty. Feeling the whisper return, it was stronger than before thanks to the vanguard's imminent arrival, he felt encouraged to continue, raising one of his Carnifex pistols as he got closer to where the geth had initially brought the beacon. Walking past several squads worth of geth destroyed in what he recognized as a textbook ambush and noting that the turian demolition charges that had been removed from the cargo hold of a freighter with the aim to destroy the beacon had been permanently defused, the Spectre was more than surprised when he moved up the last platform and found the prothean beacon seemingly unattended, the only indication of any fight having taken place being dozens of broken synthetics scattered around the platform.

"Hold it right there," he suddenly heard a flanging voice demand. While its tone was altered by the helmet it wore, he almost immediately recognized it, a strange sensation flooding through his mind as a piece of him began to rebel upon being reminded of his past.

"Wait," he muttered as he lowered his weapon and turned his head to see four turian figures clad in black armor emerge from their concealed positions, their Phaeston rifles trained on him. "Is that you, Darius?"

"Remove your helmet, show me your face," the other turian instructed, the sound of his voice suggesting that he had already done just that. Slowly moving his hands to the seals of his white helmet, aware that the whisper was telling him to use his relation to Darius, one of the soldiers with whom he had completed Blackwatch's training, to his advantage, he undid the seals, allowing the back of the helmet to come apart, and pulled the piece of armor from his head, revealing his white-plated, unmarked face before turning around.

"Saren," Darius said, his own grey features shifting into a small expression of joy, the sight of his familiar, blue-marked face giving more fire to the part of Saren that was now very much fighting to be set free. "It's been long," the Blackwatch officer added as his mandibles returned into a more serious expression. "What are you doing here?" he asked as his comrades, who likely were the same ones that had graduated alongside Saren and Darius, Blackwatch teams were rarely split up, also lowered their weapons, visibly relieved. He knew that they considered him to be a welcome sight, that they thought of him as reinforcements, but he also was painfully aware of what the ever-present whisper was demanding of him.

His presence here couldn't be known.

They had to di-

"I thought Anderson was the Spectre in charge of this operation?" Darius asked with his back turned towards him, the sound of his voice giving Saren the first moment of clarity ever since rejoining Sovereign.

What was he doing here?

All this death, all this destruction.

It was all his fault.

He needed to be stopped, he had already lost too much control.

"He is," Saren offered, the lie of the whisper rolling of his own tongue with ease. "We split up at the landing site," he added as he turned around to check on the other Blackwatch soldiers, finding only one set of eyes on him. Realising what the whisper was commanding him to do, he wanted to scream at Darius not to trust him but felt himself incapable of doing so, merely able to watch the events unfold as they happened, no longer being the one in charge of his own decisions.

"He didn't mention that," the other turian said while scanning the horizon for more of geth forces.

"How much did they tell you?" the Spectre asked as his hands inched closer to his gun, the knowledge that Sovereign would provide him with a distraction overwriting his internal screams begging for Darius to stop him.

"Saren, I didn't even know about this thing until I saw it standing right here," the other turian chuckled before once more placing his face in his helmet and sealing the back of the piece of armor again, rolling his neck exactly once as soon as it was a place. "I almost shot you back there, you know?" the turian added as he kicked one of the destroyed geth. "Your armor makes you look like one of these things."

"Are you saying you don't like the white?" he heard himself say, the almost perfectly faked chuckle the whisper made him produce sending chills down his spine.

"Black suits all of us better," Darius replied with a shrug as the whisper told him to get ready. "I think more geth are on their way here, it's a good thing you came when you did," the Blackwatch officer said as he watched the red lighting storm unfold above them. "It's gonna be just like old times," he added as the Spectre realised that this was the moment Sovereign wanted him to seize.

As the question as to why none of them saw him going for his gun raised through his mind and his silent scream begging for them to stop him remained unspoken, Saren felt his grip tighten, the strength needed to keep himself from leveling the weapon with Darius' head growing bigger with every second.

"Yes, just like old times," he muttered as his finger inched to his trigger.

"Spirits, is that a ship?" he heard one of the operatives mutter behind him as the dark-purple shape of Sovereign began to descend from the dark-red sky, emitting a deep, haunting tone in the process.

"Alright get re-"

I'm sorry, Darius.

It's too strong.

I can't fight it anymore.

In a split second, he brought up the pistol and pulled its trigger, three shots leaving its barrel and ending his friend's life. Before Darius even hit the ground, Saren heard the shout behind him. Turning on his feet, firing off the overload program and leaping to the side just as his barriers had been about to break, he quickly dispatched two of the Blackwatch operatives that had been stunned by his attack, again aiming for their heads since he knew from personal experience just how tough the chest piece of Blackwatch armor really was. As he searched for the fourth and final member of Darius' team, he was suddenly thrown to the ground, losing his grip on his pistol in the process and staring at the tip of a black-coloured knife just one thrust shy away from piercing his throat.

"Spirits, what are you doing, Arterius?" the turian on top of him asked before forcefully pushing down the knife, only a last-second twitch and the soldier's own reluctance to outright kill him allowing Saren to shift his body just enough for the blade to pierce his shoulder instead of his neck, still producing a hellish pain in the process. "What is wrong with you?" the Blackwatch operative added while yanking the blade from his shoulder to increase the damage, raising it again in preparation to finish Saren off but failing to do so when a biotic thrust sent him flying backwards. Ignoring the blue blood leaking form his shoulder, the Spectre shot to his feet and grabbed his other Carnifex before advancing on the other turian.

"Are you a fucking traitor now? Is that what this is? You turning your back on the Hier-" whatever other accusations the injured turian had been planning on delivering was ended when a pair of rounds reduced his head into a messy mixture of blood, bone and broken pieces of plates.

With the deed done, Saren walked over to the Blackwatch operative, turning the mangled remains of his head just enough so that he could remove the memory card of his helmet camera before pulling the turian's omni-tool of off him, a process he intended to repeat on the other corpses as well. The vanguard's instructions were clear, his presence here had to remain a secret. As he collected two more of the small cards, crushing each of them in his hands and tossing their broken frames off the platform, he secured the omni-tools at his own belt. Then, after he had crushed the last of the storage cards, he found himself lingering over Darius' body, not certain what was keeping him from going through with his own plan. As the whisper demanded that he do his purpose, he was subconsciously aware that he had forgotten about the omni-tool but headed to the beacon regardless, feeling an odd sensation as he looked at the black frame. Its pull was almost magnetic and the closer he got, the more drawn he felt to the green energy that surrounded it. Unsure of how to proceed, he extended his hand and made another step forward, suddenly feeling his feet leave the ground. Before he could wonder as to what was going on, his eyes shot wide open and he felt like he had been set on fire, the entirety of his body burning with a pain that increased with every image that flashed through his mind.

Then, as soon as it had began, he dropped back to the ground, at first dazed and confused, only the faint memory of a black city spanning an entire planet helping him understand that he needed another piece to understand the entirety of the vision. As he walked away from the beacon, past the deactivated bombs and rallied the remaining geth around him, faintly remembering shooting two troopers who had tried to plant new explosives near the beacon, he realised what he had to do next.

Feros, he had to go to Feros.

There he would find the Cipher.

The cycle would not be broken.

* * *

 **15:49 Local Time, 4. January 2415 AD, Smith Cargo Spaceport of Eden Prime**

"Is that a ship?" she heard Alenko mutter while all three of them stared at the colossal object rapidly climbing into the sky above them on their way down to the spaceport.

"Captain Anderson are you seeing this?" she asked into her radio, noticing the same red lighting that had predated the Normandy's evasive maneuvers.

"Yes but there's nothing we can do about it right now, Commander," the Spectre replied, his tone again suggesting that this ship, much like the spikes, wasn't entirely alien to him and solidifying Shepard's resolve to have a conversation with him once the mission was complete. "Keep moving to the beacon, I'm just behind you."

Passing by what could only be described as utter destruction, Shepard made sure that Alenko and Williams kept their mind on the task at hand in spite fo the corpses that seemed to litter the port. As they marched by a burnt-out Mako, the charred remains of its driver lying close to a turian that had likely tried to extinguish him only to be shot in the back, Emily thanked the creator of her helmet for sparring her from the worst portion of the experience, the smell.

"Christ. Do you think anyone survived?" the NCO who had only recently joined her group asked as they moved across what had luckily been one of Eden Prime's smaller spaceports. Quickly pushing the thought as to how bad this would look if the attack had hit the one in Eden Prime's capital instead of this one, Shepard shook her head.

"Doesn't look like it," she said as they marched up the stairs, passing blood stained cargo crates, trucks, destroyed military equipment and dead people in the process. "They slaughtered everyone, even the civilians."

"Do you think the Blackwatch team made it?" Alenko observed as the number of geth casualties increased with every step they moved up the platforms close to the railway system of the port.

"If anybody could've survived this, it's them," Anderson's voice, this time not through their radio but from behind them, sounded. "I see you picked up someone along the way," he added as he looked at Williams. "Glad to see somebody made it out in one piece," he offered while briefly planting a hand on her shoulder, beginning to jog up the stairs after a reassuring nod. "Come on, the beacon should be just up ahead," he called.

"You heard the man, double time it," the N7 ordered as they followed the Spectre upwards, the brief moment of optimism that Emily had allowed herself vanishing as soon as she arrived at the top to see Anderson kneel down next to a dead turian located some five meters away from the beacon, his black and golden armor stained with the same blue blood that covered the other three corpses and an empty portion of the platform.

"Shot in the back," the Spectre observed before looking for something on the body, pressing his thumb against a small circular button near the bloodied helmet camera, revealing a small, empty compartment in the process. "Damn. Someone took it," he muttered before grabbing a hold of the small box attached to the turian's hip, storing the combat-grade omni-tool in one of his pouches. "Secure the beacon, Commander, I'll check the other ones for intel."

Complying with the captain's orders, Emily and the two marines moved on to the strange, black obelisk that seemed to radiate waves of green energy. As she turned around to look at the area around them, feeling far too exposed on the small transport station, she tried to figure out why the geth had moved the beacon away from the dig site. Sure, this area was easier to defend, especially if you had sharpshooters, but it seemed like an unnecessary action to take. Why had they gone through all of the trouble of moving it to the port, only to leave it behind? What was so special about the port? Eyeing one of the cylinders near her, she spotted a small red wire that immediately demanded her attention. The commander waved her omni-tool over the device and after a moment the results of the scan gave her a good scare that only vanished when they also assured her that the charges had already been rendered harmless, likely by the now deceased Blackwatch team.

What was going on here?

"Lieutenant!" she heard Williams shout behind her. Turning around just in time to see the green energy surround Alenko, a very simple realisation hit her.

This wasn't good.

Shooting into action without even thinking about what would happen to her upon the completion of her plan, the N7 closed the distance between herself and the biotic in what was likely a personal record before grabbing a hold of his waist, putting all her strength into the following throw and getting enough space between him and the beacon to cause the energy to latch onto something else.

Her.

As she felt herself being lifted into the air, aware that the beacon was growing brighter with every moment and that the waves of green were becoming more and more violent, Shepard felt a terrible pain shoot through every inch of her body. Thoughts that weren't her own flooded into her mind and gave her a glimpse of something terrifying. The images of death and destruction lasted for only a mere second but the overwhelming force they carried with them was more than enough to overpower Emily, who simply gave in to the cold embrace of unconsciousness, only somewhat aware of Alenko, Anderson Williams rushing to her side.

* * *

 _Codex: Human Systems Alliance Marine Corps_

 _Established as one of the three branches of the Armed Forces of the Human Systems Alliance during its founding in 2151, the HSAMC was created from the United Nations Joint Defense Initiative's Expeditionary Force (See Entry 'United Nations Joint Defense Initiative)', carrying over both the traditions and tasks of its predecessor. Charged with the responsibility of leading assaults against foreign worlds and establishing beachheads for regular forces, human marines also carry out missions like boarding hostile vessels or raiding enemy outposts in and outside of planetary atmospheres._

 _Working hand in hand with the HSA's navy, the HSAMC, unlike the mostly planet-based army, only maintains a handful of permanent bases across human planets, instead basing their operations around the carriers, dreadnoughts and assault carriers of the naval forces they accompany. In spite of its space-bound nature, the corps also supports armored elements consisting of Paladins, armored personal carriers and infantry fighting vehicles and regularly trains, and is deployed, in prolonged planetary campaigns. Used to fighting from the frontlines, marine units tend to be deployed as shock troops, a fact that led to most human biotic units being integrated into the corps. Generally speaking, marine forces are considered to be more mobile than their army counterparts._

 _Being the smallest of the three armed branches, the importance of the HSAMC hails not from its size but from its ability to quickly deploy anywhere in and around human territory, their deployments during the Human Mercenary Intervention and the Skyllian Blitz serving to demonstrate this ability to the galaxy at large. In addition to this ability, the HSAMC has also played a surprisingly diplomatic role, playing a keyrole in the string of military exercises that built the foundation for the relationship between the Turian Hierarchy and the HSA._

 _It should be noted that the HSAMC, in spite of the recent recruitment effort of the HSA's government, remains the smallest naval infantry corps amongst the ranks of the Citadel Council._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **And with this, Mass Effect 1 begins. I know a lot of you have been waiting for it, so here we are.**

 **As you can tell I picked some lines from the games but chose to give most characters my own kind of dialogue because franky, I didn't just wanna copy the mission.. that seemed boring. Sure, the way it goes down is mostly the same, except Nihlus is of course replaced by both Anderson and Darius (who thought Anderson would be the one to buy it in the beginning? be honest. ;) ) and our Saren here makes some very different decisions.**

 **In this chapter I felt like the way I decided to write indoctrination was the right one, mostly because I think it adds a whole nother layer of scary and tragedy to Saren's situation that he's at times completely aware of what's going on but can only really make small differences (being in enough control to forget one omni-control or shooting two expendable geth, something we know sovereign wouldn't give a shit about because well, he's sovereign.)**

 **So yeah.**

 **Next up we'll have the aftermath of Eden Prime, for those of you who've been wondering, this is where Desolas makes his Season 3 debut, obviously, and we will very likely (depending on how the other portions turn out) also dive into Redford's and .. less likely Morneau's (That's the parade background for those who forgot ... which are probably some considering his last chapter was 41 and that was like... two and a half months ago?) plotlines.**

 **Interesting tid-bit, it was only in this chapter that I realised that turians can't actually take of helmets as easily as humans.. their head-thingeys kind of fuck that up, hence me strangely describing that the back portion of their helmets opens up before they take them off like a mask..**

 **Funny what you notice when you try to picture a scene and the thought "wait, he can't actually do that like this' pops into your head.**

 **... I wonder if Bioware ever thought about that ... somehow I doubt it.**

 **Do I have anything else to say? Let me think...**

 **Well, the only really thing I want to put out there is that with Mass Effect 1 beginning, I'll do my damnest to stay true to the world I built. A lot of what happened in ME1... just can't go down like that in Semper Vigilo, it wouldn't work from both a narrative and a 'canon' perspective (as in the rules I built for my world)**

 **Also, considering that next chapter is also going to adress what Anderson is going to find on that omni-tool, prepare to have your heartstrings pulled a bit and also prepare to see the first 'major' divergence from the games plotline, namely Shepard's and Anderson's relationship from here until an unspecified point a lot of people who played the games will probably be able to pinpoint.**

 **On that note, I also wanna say that I found it somewhat strange to exchange Saren-heavy point of view-chapters, which I've basically been writing ever since Akuze, in favour of Shepard's POV... maybe it's gonna come with time but a lot of why this chapter wasn't out two days ago goes down to me having a little bit of a writer's blockade in terms of the tone shift...**

 **Shepard's just not Saren yet.**

 **Now, that's no reason to worry, I suspect that once I get more into writing her and the other major POV characters who'll have the lionshare of scenes dedicated to them, the backgrounds, it's gonna become easier for me to adapt to the toneshifting again (I didn't have this problem when we jumped around a lot in the earlier parts of the story)**

 **Alright, this AN is already way to long. enough.**

 **For the record we're at 394 Reviews, 617 favorites and 716 folllows (those are two neat numbers mates, still want to see them go up tho :p)**

 **Review and let me know what you think.**

 **See you around next time.**


	48. My Brother's Keeper

**Chapter 48. My Brother's Keeper**

* * *

 **Eighteen Minutes Later, 4. January 2415 AD, Eden Prime, HSASV Normandy, Medbay**

"You're saying the beacon did this?" the medical officer of the frigate, Doctor Chakwas, asked as she stood next to the unconscious N7, reading through the various scanner results on a datapad, the confusion written on her face already betraying that nothing in the sterile white medbay had been able to offer answers as to what was wrong with the commander.

"Yes," Anderson replied with a nod as he looked at the doctor, "and then it blew up," he added, aware just how bad that would look in the report, truth or not.

"And you're sure that you're feeling alright, Lieutenant Alenko?" the doctor inquired while turning towards the other marine who had come into contact with the beacon prior to its sudden destruction.

"Yes, Ma'am," the biotic nodded, causing the doctor to bring up her omni-tool again.

"For all intents and purposes, Commander Shepard is fine," she muttered.

"But?" the Spectre asked. He had been here before, with medical officers there was always a 'but', especially if they kept checking their readings.

"None of this makes sense," Chakwas began while walking over to Shepard, a series of faint, orange strings originating from her omni-tool brushing over the commander. "Medically speaking, the commander's comatouse but at the same time, neural scans suggests the complete opposite. She might be unresponsive but her brain is working in overdrive," the doctor sighed, once more eyeing Lieutenant Alenko, "and no matter what I do, I can't figure out why," it didn't take an expert to tell that the doctor was both worried and frustrated about this. "Lieutenant, you are certain that you're not feeling any worrying symptoms?"

"Nothing, Ma'am" the man said before putting his face into his hands. "This is all my fault, I never should've gotten near that beacon."

"Nonsense, Lieutenant," the medical officer protested. "You couldn't have known that this would happen," she offered. Personally, Anderson wasn't entirely sure if he could agree with that notion. "Captain, if you're done here, I'd ask you to take your leave for now," Chakwas spoke as she turned back around to face him. "I need to focus on my patients and frankly, you're standing in my way," turning his head around and looking at the cabinet he was standing in front of, the Spectre took a step towards the door, opening up the way with an apologetic smile. "I'll notify you once Shepard wakes up."

Nodding his understanding, Anderson went for the door, hearing a set of steps behind him.

"Lieutenant Alenko, where do you think you're going?" the doctor asked in a scolding tone as Anderson decided to put as much space between him and the argument about to happen in the medbay. He had also been here before. "Patients specifically implies that there are two of you. Until I run more tests and know what's going on here, you're confi-"

Breathing a sigh of relief as the door shut behind him, muffling the argument, he reached for the omni-tool he had taken of the dead turian and began making his way towards the captain's quarters that had been assigned to him upon being temporarily put in charge of the frigate. As he passed through the mess hall and entered the elevator, he eyed the small device in his hand. If the Blackwatch officer had followed protocol, which he most certainly had given that he was a turian, the omni-tool should've recorded the moments, or rather the audio feed, leading up to his death. Once he got around the encryption of the device, he'd be able to everything between Xentax's last transmission, his death and their own arrival on site. Walking out as the doors of the elevator opened, he quickly entered his room, clutching the device in his hand a little tighter as he allowed the facade he had maintained up to now to drop.

The ship that had attacked Eden Prime had been a Leviathan and the strange blue creatures Shepard had tried to warn him about had been husks. The geth who had carried out the attack had been the same geth that he and Saren had encountered before and the beacon they had tried and likely succeeded in accessing had been the same one Cerberus and HSAIS had hoped would give them answers. All in all, everything he had seen today told him what he had been fearing from the very moment he had been told about it.

The Harbinger was making his move on the galaxy and the geth had picked his side.

Anderson sighed as he dropped down into one of the chairs.

Strangely enough, the prospect of a galactic cataclysm wasn't the only thing weighing on his mind right now.

While he had never received any real training on the matter, his years as a Spectre had given him enough experience to already have some idea as to what had happened down there. Even though the exact circumstances of their deaths were unknown, there was no doubt in his mind that the Blackwatch team hadn't been killed by geth. Sure, the number of destroyed combat platforms made it incredibly easy to assume that all of them had died in an heroic last defense of the beacon but the wounds he had seen on them told a different story, a story he had decided to keep to himself for now. As the Spectre connected his own omni-tool to the one he had managed to retrieve, beginning the process of accessing the data, he also recalled his own impression of the scene in an attempt to either confirm or, hopefully but far less likely, deny the picture that was shaping up in the back of his mind.

Out of the four turians only one had looked like he had put up a fight. The others, especially Xentax who had been shot in the back of his head, seemed to have been killed rather sudden and, more importantly, by something they hadn't seen coming. As Anderson tried to come up with a scenario in which a Blackwatch team, which had previously dealt with what could be described as a small army of geth, could be killed fast enough for only one of them to be able to fight back, he decided that he needed to understand just who had died first before going any further. He knew for a fact that they had been alive up until shortly before he and Shepard's team had arrived at the spaceport, the last transmission of Xentax predating their own arrival by only a few minutes. He also knew for a fact that at least two of the Blackwatch operatives had been caught out in the open, the image of their bodies lying in the middle of the platform far away from any cover, still present in Anderson's mind. Going from there, a realisation struck the former N7, causing him to check his own recordings of the mission, quickly fast forwarding his helmet camera footage to the point where he had first reached the beacon and pausing the moment he himself had come to a halt, the frozen image he was now looking at send a chilly sensation down his spine.

Not only had Xentax been lying in front of the two other operatives when he had first arrived, he, unlike the two turians killed behind him, had also been shot from the back, meaning that there had either been more than one attacker, or that whoever had shot them had stood in between the team. As a small puddle of blue, turian blood he couldn't immediately match to one of the corpses caught Anderson's attention, the orange light reflecting off of it giving it a strange coloration, he remembered something else that had initially been overshadowed by the sudden activation of the beacon. Fast forwarding again until he saw himself approach the turian body leaning against one of the crates, his helmet and his head mostly destroyed by a powerful gunshot, his eyes widened upon realising what the soldier had been holding onto moments before his death.

He recognized the knife immediately. Not only had he seen it on multiple occasions, he had also been forced to use it during one of their much closer calls. But it wasn't the curved Blackwatch blade itself that put the finishing touches to his earlier suspicion, no, it was the blue blood in which it was coated. In a mere instant, this one detail explained almost everything from their sudden demise and their apparent lack of caution in the middle of a combat zone to the fact that only one of them had managed to fight back.

They had been betrayed by one of their own.

A fifth turian, somebody likely belonging to their own unit, had killed them.

As he rubbed his neck, Anderson recalled how all of this had started, initially failling to remember the name of the Blackwatch operative who's 'treason', an event that had unfolded much like this one seemed to do right now, had later turned out to be the product of what Saren, his brother and their allies were calling 'indoctrination.'

What had been his nam-

Haliat.

Captain Elanos Haliat.

Bringing up his omni-tool, briefly eyeing the progress of his attempt to access Xentax's audio recording, Anderson searched through the files Saren had given to him last year. As he read over the report, it became clear that the circumstances under which Haliat had murdered his own team had been hauntingly similar. If there was another Blackwatch operative like Haliat, they had to get ahead of this. Accessing his contacts and quickly dismissing the Council's demand to know what had gone wrong, he'd get to them in a moment, the human Spectre sent his findings to one of the few people he trusted to take the necessary actions from here on out. Even if they hadn't spoken for some time, the unanswered messages he was looking at while waiting for his most recent one to be sent reminding him of that fact, Anderson was certain that this development would be more than enough to pull him away from whatever it was that had caused him to drop off the radar these last few months.

After all, Saren knew exactly what was at stake here.

When he had gotten conformation that the message had been sent and received, Anderson once more checked on the progress of Xentax's omni-tool. Sighing as he got his answer, it would be another hour or so before he'd be able to access what he was looking for, he decided to do another thing he wasn't looking forward to.

Explain the Council just how his mission had gone so far off the rails.

* * *

 **Five Hours Later, Early 2156 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

They weren't ready.

Not by a long shot.

That was the single thought echoing through Desolas' mind as he marched through the halls of the military base.

Exactly three hundred and fifteen minutes ago, a geth strike force, led by a ship matching the one his brother had encountered a couple of months ago down to the last detail, had attacked Eden Prime, clashing with both the local human forces and the turian troops currently training with them. While casualties in space had been surprisingly light, a combination of the quick thinking of the naval officers and the apparent disinterest of the Leviathan and its captain to assist the geth fleet leading to a rather even engagement, the moment of surprise had caused heavy casualties on the ground. Thanks to the timing of the raid, a lot of the soldiers had been caught in the open with nothing but maneuver ammunition and their wits, effectively being left defenseless during the critical initial stage of the attack.

Officialy, the motives of the attack were unknown and the ship, which had been caught on camera by far too many people already, was being considered a new kind of geth dreadnought. Inofficialy, the geth had tried and, as far as early evidence suggested, succeeded in accessing the beacon the HSA had found in the recently unearthed subterranean prothean complex on Eden Prime before fleeing the system alongside the Leviathan.

"They're already expecting you, General Arterius," a naval captain, the small pin at the collar of his uniform revealing him to be part of TNI, the Turian Naval Intelligence, spoke as Desolas marched past him and into the briefing room, his black and golden armor immediately setting him apart from most other attendants. Unlike most of them, he had been deep in Aephus's mountains when the call had reached him and given it's urgency, there had been little time for him to get changed.

"We don't have to defeat them, we just have to contain them," he heard as he entered the room, his eyes briefly darting to the turian currently speaking and identifying him as Admiral Quentius, one of the navy's highest ranking officers and, alongside Desolas, one of the few non-primarchs who had been summoned to this unscheduled meeting. " I say we destroy the relays connecting us to geth space and cut them off from the rest of the galaxy. The plans already exist," he went on as he smashed his fist down into his open palm. "The only thing left to do is set them in motion."

The admiral was right, after the fall of Rannoch at the hands of the geth, plans to destroy the mass relays leading from the Perseus Veil to Council space had been drawn up. In theory, it was a rather simple idea. By causing a high velocity collision with an asteroid, a maneuver indirectly inspired by how the krogan had destroyed several turian colonies in the opening weeks of their war with the Hierarchy, his people had hoped to irreparably damage the relays and cut off the geth from the rest of the galaxy.

"How are we to neutralize the threat, if we remove our ability to attack it?" another pointed out.

"I agree," it echoed from one of the holograms. "We have ignored this problem for far too long. It's time that we put an end to it once and for all," yet another replied when the one before him was done talking.

"With all due respect, Primarch," Quentius spoke up again. "As of right now, we do not possess the means to achieve a guaranteed victory over the geth," he paused, aware of the implications his statement had. While not public knowledge to the average citizen of the Hierarchy, everyone in this room, be they projections or physically present, knew that TNI regarded the geth's military strength as the only threat in the galaxy that the turian military could perhaps meet its conventional match in. "For the moment, our most viable option is to remove their ability to attack us, by whatever means necessary. In the best case scenario, this solves the problem permanently, in the worst case scenario, it still gives us time to come up with a permanent solution," the admiral finished, nodding his grey head at Desolas as the latter took his seat. If the Blackwatch commander had to take a guess, the turian was glad to see a face that didn't belong to a primarch.

"Admiral, if we do that, we'd also do more than take away our ability to take the fight to them," another turian, this one the Primarch of a colony who's markings Desolas didn't immediately recognize, spoke up. "Are you aware of the kind of backlash the preemptive destruction of even one relay would cause? Unless we have undeniable proof that the geth seek to invade Council Spa-"

"That will be enough, Primarch Helat," the only living turian who could get away with interrupting a member of the highest tier of turian citizenship spoke calmly, the echo that accompanied his voice a product of the Hall of Primarchs he was currently seated in. As Galus Fedorian, the Primarch of Palaven and therefore highest authority of the Turian Hierarchy, turned his holographic head towards Desolas, the general found himself sitting a little straighter, if such a thing was even possible. "Primarchs, admirals, generals," Fedorian began as Desolas prepared himself for the spotlight he was about to receive. "Everything General Arterius is about to tell you has been deemed highly sensitive information. Carrying it out of this room without permission will be considered high treason to both the Hierarchy and the turian people," the former admiral paused for a moment. "While many of you have already been briefed on the basic details of what you're about to hear, I'm afraid that the situation has developed into a far more worrying one," the Primarch turned his head. "General Arterius, when you're ready."

"Of course, Sir," he said as he got up from the seat he had only just taken, a wave of his omni-tool allowing him to take over the biggest of the holographic projectors that had hastily been set up to allow for this meeting to happen in the first place.

"Two months ago, a field team deployed near the Perseus Veil managed to capture this image," he began as the blurry depiction of the Leviathan ship his brother had encountered during his pursuit of the Shadow Broker's first clue, the one that hadn't turned into an ambush, appeared in the center of the room for all to see.

"What you're looking at, is the same alien dreadnought," Desolas said before he waved his through the air, bringing up a much clearer and much closer picture of the dark-purple colossus which had been taken by a now deceased turian soldier in the moments leading up to his death, "that led the attack on Eden Prime." After another gesture, the archived image of the Leviathan of Dis, the namesake of this ship, appeared next to it.

"While we don't know it's current whereabouts, the similarities between this ship and the wreckage found on Jartar make it a certainty that its a part of the Harbinger's forces," at the mention of that name, Desolas saw only a few of the faces shift into something vaguely resembling worry. While this was new information, none of the turians in this room had gotten into their position by losing their composure. "Considering the threat its creator possess, it is my suggestion that we immediately begin preparations."

"Primarch Fedorian, may I make an inquiry?" the Primarch of Aephus herself was the first to speak up from a few seats to Desolas' left.

"You may," Fedorian replied a moment later.

"What kind of preparations do you suggest, General Arterius?"

"Full mobilization, Ma'am," he nodded. "We need to ready the Hierarchy for a war on the scale of the Krogan Rebellions and we need to do it right now."

"General, correct me if I'm mistaking but," he didn't like where this was going, "it was my impression that one of your largest points of concern was that your task force never learned what exactly it is that we should prepare for," the dark-plated turian pointed out as her features shifted into a skeptic expression. "Has this changed recently?"

"No, Ma'am."

"So your assessment of the situation has changed? Does it no longer warrant caution?"

"On the contrary. My assessment of the situation remains exactly the same," Desolas said, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "But this attack forces our hand. There is no more time for caution," he finished, meeting the eye of the dark-plated turian.

"If caution falls, General, defeat follows," the turian replied as she folded her hands, the shifting of her mandibles clarifying her challenge. "I don't think I have to remind you of that?"

"And I don't think I have to remind you that sayings rarely apply to the actual battlefield," he countered, "Ma'am."

"What are you trying to suggest, General?" Desolas was well aware that he was only really getting away with what he was currently doing due to the unique standing Blackwatch held within the Hierarchy. Usually, a 'mere' general would never dare to speak to a turian primarch like this but with his own legion, things had always been different. Whether it was their nearly flawless history or the sheer usefulness they offered to the Hierarchy, Blackwatch had always been allowed more freedom than their regular brethren.

"In my experience," he took care to stress the last word, "quotes from field manuals tend to clash with reality."

"General Arte-"

"Enough of this, Primarch Olarion," Fedorian's hologram muttered in a surprisingly displeased tone, instantly silencing the turian. "You know that the general's concerns are more than warranted," in spite of the apparent victory, Desolas kept himself from smirking. He had made his point, being smug about it would serve no purpose. "The intelligence Blackwatch and TNI collected," he wasn't entirely sure why the turian refrained from mentioning the role their human and salarian counterparts had played but he knew better than to correct somebody speaking out in his favour, "suggest that this is the beginning of a threat of unparalleled scale. Considering our responsibility to the galaxy, a full mobilization of our military will become a necessity," there was a pause as the Primarch turned his head to Desolas, his look already giving away that there was a 'but' in there,"as soon as," there it was, "we understand the motives behind the attack on Eden Prime and its role within our enemy's strategy."

Desolas got it, he really did. It was after all the very same logic that had driven his actions ever since Haliat had gone rogue. There was no point in digging in when your enemy possessed siege artillery and there was no point in building roadblocks and barricades if he could fly over them. It was simple military logic. Reconnaissance had to be conducted before preparations could be made.

But just because he got it, didn't mean that he had to like it.

Mobilizing every last one of the tens of billions of active duty and reserve personal within the Hierarchy was an enormous effort. It took a massive financial, logistical and bureaucratic effort to do so and more importantly it took time, a lot of time.

Time they didn't have.

"With all due respect, Sir," he was about to voice this when Fedorian shook his head.

"General Arterius, I share your concern and as we're speaking, your legion's marching orders have already been sent," sure enough his omni-tool vibrated at that moment, "but right now the only thing a full mobilization would succeed in, is draining our supplies and giving our enemy time to study our defenses while we await his attack," the military educated part of Desolas mind agreed with that notion but the more personal, far more worried one barely kept itself from insisting that they still had to do it.

"Eden Prime was a tragic attack and a worrying development, but it wasn't an all-out invasion of Council Space. It was a raid on a prothean beacon with an as of yet unknown goal," the Primarch began again, making his point and Desolas' orders clear before even saying them out loud. "And I'm afraid that we'll only be able to act, once Blackwatch finds out what that goal was and whether or not the geth will continue to act as the Harbinger's auxiliaries," Fedorian's holographic set of eyes, which he knew from personal encounters to be a dark shade of yellow, met Desolas' own blue ones. "Do you understand me, General?" he asked in a stern tone.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good," another pause gave Fedorian's features time to soften. "While I won't call for a full mobilization of the Hierarchy just yet, I will order a partial mobilization of our naval forces. Furthermore I order the legions of the clusters Taetrus, Aephus, Digeris, Armiger and Oma Ker to ready themselves for immediate deployment."

In spite of being shot down, Desolas felt a certain degree of success. The legions of those worlds were amongst the Hierarchy's most prestigious and, more importantly, most numerous combat units stationed outside of the Trebia System. Growing up, every turian heard stories about how the assault corps of Armiger had led the charge on Tuchanka itself or how the severly outnumbered legions of Digeris had braved one krogan attack after the other in spite of being bombarded by both the enemy dreadnoughts themselves and the turian navy firing at the hostile fleet between themselves and Digeris. "Additionally, I want all major clusters to prepare for similar actions in preparation for an attack of either the Harbinger, the geth or both," as Fedorian's voice flanged through the briefing room, Desolas noted that his omni-tool vibrated again, indicating that yet another message had arrived. "If they come looking for a fight, the Hierarchy will give it to them and if they set their eyes on those that can't defend themselves in the hope of avoiding our might, we won't sit by idle. We will make them regret it. For the Hierarchy."

"For the Hierarchy!" every other turian in the room, be they physically present or a hologram, repeated not a moment later.

"Dismissed."

As soon as Fedorian had finished and closed the meeting by cutting of his transmission, the primarchs, admirals and generals sharing the room with him that began to type away on their terminals and omni-tools, relaying his orders even before the lights turned on. Deciding to forward his own orders to Melion so that the XO could make the necessary preparations, Desolas paused as he read the other message he had been sent during the meeting, curious just what Agent David Anderson would want from him.

'We need to talk, General. It's about your brother.'

* * *

 **Five Minutes Earlier, 4. January 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy**

It's a good thing you came when you did," the flanging voice of the now dead Blackwatch captain echoed through the room. "It's gonna be just like old times."

"Yes," no matter how often he had replayed the minutes between him losing contact with the turians and him finding their bodies, this was the part that he still struggled to make sense of. "Just like old times."

"Spirit, is that a ship?"

"Alright get rea-"

As the three gunshots he had already heard several times before sounded off again, the Spectre clenched his jaw, forcing his mind to stay focused in an attempt to pick up something new, something other than the ugly reality he was faced with.

"Spirits, what are you doing, Arterius?"

Incidentally, that was also the question Anderson was asking himself.

Why?

Why would Saren do any of this?

He sighed and paused the recording.

He knew exactly why.

Just like in Haliat's case, the 'indoctrination' effect that had been observed during the encounters with the artifact would explain all of Saren's actions. Trying to seize the beacon, turning on the Blackwatch team, likely leading the attack itself, all of it would make sense if his friend had fallen victim to the same phenomenon.

However it wasn't the 'why' that had Anderson's mind racing, at least not for now. It was the 'where', the 'when' and, most importantly, the 'is it reversible' that managed to keep the Spectre from thinking about the consequences of his discovery, which at the moment, only he and, once he read the message, Saren's brother, knew of.

The first and most likely option that he had considered after his second time through the recording to fill the first two blanks had been the Budapest's destruction. Although he had initially dismissed it because he knew that the HSA had searched every corner of Inversio system and found nothing but debris supporting Saren's narrative of the event that had predated his dropping of the radar, the realisation that the ship he had seen on Eden Prime was likely just as capable of producing the effect as the artifacts were had rapidly filled the gaps.

But it weren't these two questions that he was particularly concerned with.

It was the question as to what he could do to free Saren of the indoctrination.

Sighing again, he decided to stop lying to himself.

It wasn't a question of 'what', it was a question of 'if.'

After he had recognized the cause, Anderson had immediately gone over every related piece of information that the group around Saren's brother had collected in regards to the subject in the hope of finding something he could use to free Saren and by extension keep him from being branded a rogue Spectre, which would be the first step the Council would take once they heard about his role in the attack on Eden Prime, and being hunted down by their peers of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch.

Much to his despair, the search had turned up empty.

As he saw the light of his room reflect of the bottle the Normandy's captain had gifted to him in 'exchange for keeping my crew safe', he was about to reach for the expensive whiskey when his omni-tool vibrated.

There was only really one person this could be.

Briefly checking if all his securities were in place and if the quarter's intercom was still muted, he had made sure Joker wouldn't listen in on his discovery from the very moment he had heard the familiar flanging of Saren's voice, Anderson sat up in his chair and prepared himself to deliver the news.

"Agent Anderson, you wanted to talk?" the voice of the turian's brother came through somewhat choppy, the fact that the Normandy was currently traveling back to the Citadel, the Council had recalled him for a personal debriefing the moment they had heard about the destruction of the beacon, doing no favours to the connection. Figuring that there was no way to really soften the blow, he didn't even knew the general enough to somehow comfort him beforehand, Anderson simply delivered the news without any sort of warning.

"Your brother led the attack on Eden Prime."

For a few seconds, there was a painful silence.

"What did you just say?" he wasn't entirely sure what reaction he had expected from the general, but the purely stoic, cold and detached tone that carried over even through the bad quality of his transmission, hadn't been among them.

"He killed the Blackwatch team that was supposed to guard the beacon and then he ac-"

"Start from the beginning," the general replied, his voice hauntingly similar to Saren's.

"Alright."

And so the former N7 did, describing every step he had taken on the mission, telling General Arterius about how the geth had murdered their way to the beacon, about how Captain Xentax's team, who had apparently been part of the same training class as Saren, worsening his betrayal of them even more, had held the spaceport while they had fought their way towards it and about how he had looked for the memory cards and omni-tools, mechanisms he only knew about thanks to Saren once telling him about them in case something ever happened to him on a mission. When he was done, the weight of his discovery seemed to hit him worse than it had hit the unprepared general. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Anderson was about to ask what they should do when the turian beat him to the punch, his voice still rather detached.

"And you're sure of this?"

"I can sent you the recordi-"

"Who else knows?" the general interrupted his offer, surprising him again. Anderson had figured the turian would have more trouble wrapping his head around the entire situation but apparently, that wasn't the case.

Well, either that or he really didn't want to hear it for himself.

The way Anderson saw it, not hearing proof of the state his brother was in, probably allowed him to maintain some sort of distance between him and the situation. While there never had been a formal choice on the matter, Saren had been rather clear on the fact that his older brother was the one around whom their group rallied, their leader so to speak. Since, as with every leader, his group relied on him to keep a clear head, the Spectre could see this being his reason.

Likewise he could also understand that the general simply wanted to spare himself from listening to his brother murdering his comrades in cold blood.

"At the moment, just you and me," the Spectre finally muttered. "I thought about telling Councilor Valern but-"

"Don't," the older Arterius replied almost immediately. Before he was about to ask why, the general went on. "I'll handle Valern," he added, his seemingly exhausted tone finally carrying the first hint of some kind of emotional response to the situation that was increasingly weighing on Anderson. Although he knew that he didn't want to hear the answer, the Spectre decided that he simply had to ask. While it would probably have the opposite effect, he hoped that the certainty of it would somehow help him come to terms with the idea of Saren, whom he could factually consider to be amongst his closest friends, suddenly becoming his enemy due to reasons neither of them had any control of.

"What happened to Saren," he forced himself to begin. "Is it reversible?" he asked, briefly disturbing the uneasy silence that had settled between the two. When the general remained silent for a few more moments, Anderson was ready to accept that he likely wouldn't get the answer he had been hoping for.

"I-," Arterius interrupted himself with a sigh. "I don't know." So much for certainty. "Before Akuze we never really had the option to study the artifacts and when the extend of their danger became apparent-"

"The option to figure it out went out the window."

"Yes," the turian replied again, the sudden drop of quality in the transmission causing his voice to crack up. Unsure of what else to say, Anderson simply chose the smartest course of action he could come up with right now.

Remain quiet.

"You're already on your way to the Citadel?" the general asked after a few more moments.

"Yes."

"I don't think I need to mention that all of this best stay between us until you face the Council?"

"Of course not." Back when he had been told about this entire ordeal, Saren had also been rather clear about why they kept this secret. Since he intended to honor his promise to the turian Spectre, there was no way he'd say a word about it for now.

"Good." Nothing about this was good. "Finish your report to the Council. We'll speak again."

Before he could even think about asking if there was anything else, the feed closed itself, again leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Saren was indoctrinated and once he told the Council what went down on Eden Prime, he'd be branded a rogue Spectre. His actions were the result of something out of control and even if Anderson somehow managed to save his friend from the people who'd be sent after him, there was no guarantee that the thing that was forcing him to do all of this could be reversed.

No.

He wasn't going to deal with those thoughts right now.

"Joker," he called as he unmuted the intercom and opened a direct channel to the bridge. "What's our ETA on the Citadel?" he asked, walking over to the bottle of whiskey, inspecting the fine paper label still wrapped around its neck.

"If we don't run into any trouble during transit," the pilot responded in an upbeat tone that right now only succeeded in making the Spectre sick to his stomach, "Eight hours."

Good. Unless he drank the whole bottle in one go, an idea becoming more attractive the more he thought about it, he could sober up in less than that.

"Wake me in four."

"Will do, Captain."

Tearing off the label and placing the bottle's opening in the small glass sitting on the cabinet next to him, the Spectre did something he hadn't done in a long time.

Drink alone.

Raising the glass to eye level and watching the artificial light of the room brush against it for a moment, Anderson recalled a long past moment far better than the current one. It sure as hell wouldn't fix the problem but it might just help him get a brief moment of otherwise impossible peace of mind.

"To better times," he muttered before downing the glass.

* * *

 **Ten Hours Later, 4. January 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy, Medbay**

Damn.

Her head was killing her.

That was the first thought that painfully rang through her otherwise blank mind.

Forcing her eyes open and instantly regretting the decision when the light of the ceiling lamps mercilessly blinded her, Shepard let out a groan, only now realising that she was no longer on Eden Prime.

How had she gotten he-

Of course. The beacon.

While her memory of the event was still foggy at best, she briefly felt a headache-like sensation before remembering the unintelligible set of images that had been forced into her brain moments before blacking out. What in god's name had been their meaning? Just before she could begin trying to unravel the mess of tangled images that was currently occupying her mind, the memory of what had happened moments before the beacon's assault forced its way through.

Alenko.

Sitting up far too fast, the commander barely managed to keep herself from falling back down a moment later by gripping the edge of the bed she had been lying on. Shaking her head in an attempt to combat the dizziness she was only now realising to be there, Shepard was about to get up when a firm hand grabbed her shoulder.

"While I'm glad to see that you're up," the medical officer of the Normandy began, "I have to ask you to take things slowly. You only just woke up."

The commander groaned again before quickly accepting that Chakwas was right.

"How long was I out?" she muttered, looking around the medbay for Alenko. Depending on how close he had been to the beacon when it had exploded, the fact that he didn't seem to be around was either a very good or a very bad thing.

"Fifteen hours."

"Fifteen hours?"

That explained the aching feeling in her back.

"Yes. Fifteen hours," the doctor confirmed again. "You had us worried there, Commander, " she added quickly before bringing up her omni-tool. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a car;" Shepard replied while rolling her neck, the popping sound created by the action causing Chakwas face to display a hint of displeasure. While she couldn't claim to be perfectly comfortable right now, physical discomfort was very low on her list of priorities. Between the geth attack on Eden Prime, the utter failure of her mission to retrieve the beacon and the unknown status of a member of her team, her own pain was of little to no concern. Knowing that she couldn't remove either of the first problem, Emily decided to tackle the one question she could get out of her mind right now.

"Where's Ale-", catching her slip-up, the N7 course corrected immediately. "-the lieutenant?"

"In his quarters," Chakwas replied, drawing a suspicious glance form Shepard. The marine had been nearly as close to the beacon as herself. By all means, he should be lying in the same medbay as her. "Unlike you, Alenko never lost consciousness," the doctor explained as she frowned at something her omni-tool was telling her, "so after much nagging on his part and a lack of test results on mine, I allowed him to leave."

At least some good news.

"Glad to hear it."

"So was he," the doctor muttered again, her eyes still fixed on the omni-tool.

"Something wrong?" Shepard asked after a moment of consideration.

"No, no," Chakwas began as she went through more readings, the look on her face not exactly reassuring the N7. "I'm just trying to make sense of all of this. As far as I can tell, you were in a coma but these readings tell me that you were-"

"Dreaming?" the N7 cut her short. While the concern about Alenko's well-being had taken priority, Emily hadn't forgotten about the images that had flashed in front of her eyes before passing out. Even though it would've been easy and even reasonable for her to pass them up as some kind of strange dream, both her brain and her gut were telling her that these pictures weren't the product of her imagination.

"Yes," the doctor shot her a strange look. "You could say dreaming."

"I know this is going to sound strange, Doctor," she began, slightly worried that she was about to earn herself a trip straight to a psychiatric evaluation for her honesty.

"Go on, Commander."

Not much else she could do now, could she?

"I think the beacon gave me some kind of vision," as the medical officer raised her eyebrow, Shepard began to think that this might not have been such a good idea. "I don't know what it meant but-"

"I'll have to ask you to stop right there, Commander," a somewhat familiar voice called as the door of the medbay opened. As soon as the Spectre walked in, Chakwas turned towards him, likely intending to challenge his order. After all, if she was a doctor and one of her patients would start talking about a destroyed piece of alien technology giving her some kind of vision, she too would like to hear the whole story. "I'm sorry Doctor," Anderson began, "but any intel the beacon may have passed on to the commander will be strictly classified until further review." She wasn't certain what was weirder, the fact that the Spectre had apparently been listening in on their conversation, the fact that he looked like he had aged ten years in the last ten hours or the fact that he actually believed what she had been about to explain to Chakwas.

"The commander is my patient, Captain. If she is experiencing lucid dreaming as the result of being exposed to an alien artifact-"

"Then she will be able to tell you all about it once I say so," the Spectre cut her off rather rudely, an action that, as far as she was able to tell from her brief impression of the man, was very unusual for him. "Do you think you're ready to be debriefed, Commander?" the former N7 asked as he turned away from the doctor. Even though he hid it good enough, Shepard could tell that there was an urgency to his tone and, even at the risk of aggravating the person responsible for her health by leaving her hanging, decided that the best thing she could do right now was to figure out just what kind of consequences the beacon's destruction would carry with it. Additionally to that, the fact that Anderson seemed to have no doubt that the beacon could've passed on some kind of vision to her, also influenced her decision.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. There's somebody who wants to talk to you in the comm-room," Anderson nodded, locking eyes with Chakwas in the process. "For what's worth it, I'm sorry about this breach of procedure, Doctor."

"I'm sure you are." If she needed another reason to take her leave from the medbay, she had just found it. To say Chakwas was displeased with Anderson effectively cutting her out would've been an understatement.

"I'll be right behind you, Commander," the Spectre said, pointing his hand out of the medbay and into the general direction of the elevator. Pushing herself of the bed and quickly pulling on the pair of boots placed next to it, the N7 got out of the increasingly more hostile medical bay as soon as her aching body allowed her to, taking very clear note of the fact that Anderson was not right behind her and in addition to that also picking up on the faint smell of alcohol coming from the man.

Not much she could do about either of that right now.

As the commander made her way up the elevator and into the comm-room, which promptly darkened once it registered her entry, she thought about the set of images again, provoking another headache-like pain in the process. Shaking her head clear just as bluish light flooded the room thanks to a projection assembling itself in front of her, Emily put up a straight face and waited for the process to finish, expecting to come face to face with top-brass any moment now. But instead of looking at some politician, her own superiors who had sent her on this mission or some high ranking admiral she was already familiar with, she found herself looking at a person she simply couldn't place. Instead of wearing a uniform, the man in front of her was simply clad in a plain black suit and instead of standing in front of her and waiting for her to snap to attention, he calmly set in a chair with his legs crossed and a cigarette in his mouth.

"Commander Shepard," the man spoke after exhaling a small cloud of smoke, his voice surprisingly soft considering his evident habit. "I don't think we've had the pleasure yet," he added as he dipped the cigarette into what she suspected to be an ashtray just out of sight. "I had hoped to meet you under more fortunate circumstances." Who was this guy? "But as things are, the destruction of the beacon had to accelerate this process," wait, could he have something to do with the unknown soldiers they had found at the original dig site? "In both our interests, I'll cut right to the chase and save us both the time and effort of dancing around the actual problem."

"Before you do that, I'd like to know who exactly I'm talking to," she countered not a moment later, folding her arms. If this had been some kind of officer or at least somebody who's base of authority she understood, she would not have spoken up but as things were, the only thing she knew about the stranger in front of her was that he somehow knew Anderson.

"My name's not important, Commander," the man said as Shepard took notice of the strange shape of his eyes. Maybe a glitch of the projector? She shut the thought down before it could go any further. This wasn't a priority right now.

"Then why not give it to me?" she countered, not intending to back down. There was a number of things Shepard disliked and for the last six months, this particular kind of secrecy had climbed very high on that list. Watching as the man's mouth flicked into a smirk, she already prepared herself for some kind of witty comeback.

"In the interest of time, Director Harper will have to do," the man said, doing the polar opposite of what she had expected, in turn explaining the true reasoning behind his smirk. As he rose from his chair and walked towards her, at least in the sense of how it was physically possible for a projection from god knew where to walk towards her, the smirk disappeared. "Originally, I only intended to talk to you about the dead operatives you found," Harper went on as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit, likely intentionally answering one of the questions that had been on her mind ever since arriving at the dig site, "but from what I understand, you believe that the beacon passed some kind of message onto you."

Anderson sure had been quick to tell him about that.

"Yes. I think it gave me some kind of," she paused for a moment, trying to find the right kind of answer this time around but finally deciding to stick to her earlier description, "vision." There simply was no other way for her to describe what exactly she had seen. While it would've been easy to pass it up as some kind of hallucination produced by her injury, she had been down that road before. This time had been way different. "I know it sounds strange but-"

"I believe you," Harper cut her off as he pulled a small box from his pocket. "When we first found the beacon, one of our experts theorized that it might be able to transfer information, she just couldn't tell us how we could trigger the process," he went on before opening the metal object and pulling another cigarette from it. "It would seem that you found a way around whatever security measure prevented her from previously accessing it after all. Albeit at the cost of the actual beacon of course," Considering the fact that they were talking about a working piece of prothean technology, the director was surprisingly okay with losing it. "If the beacon sent a message to you right before its destruction, whatever information was passed onto you just became more than invaluable," Harper finished as he pulled a small tablet from beyond the projector's range, typing on it for a few seconds before again discarding it. "We might've lost the beacon but if we're lucky, we didn't lose it's content."

"What message?"

"You're on your way to the Citadel right now," Harper replied, effectively ignoring her question but filling her in on what the Normandy had been up to while she had been out cold in the process. "After the Council has debriefed you, Anderson will have further instructions for you." When she thought he was done and it was her turn to ask the questions, Harper went on. "This should help you pass the time," he said as her omni-tool buzzed. Instinctively opening the message, she wasn't entirely sure what the hexagon she was looking at was supposed to mean. "We'll talk again soon, Commander."

Before she even got the chance to tell him to wait and give her some answers, the projection cut out, leaving her alone in the dark comm-room, only a dozen questions around to keep her company.

Just great.

* * *

 **5\. January 2415 AD, Cronos Station**

"Is this about Eden Prime, Sir?" the blonde man asked immediately after the door had closed behind him with a hiss.

"I'm afraid not," Rei replied from beyond his desk before looking up from his terminal. "Please, take a seat."

Damn.

Even if the ship at the helm of the geth raid was being passed off as some kind of highly sophisticated dreadnought, he, just like the rest of Section 13 ever since Akuze, knew the real story and he, just like a number of his colleagues, had been hoping to get a shot at these particular guys.

"Ever heard of Captain Zhi? Commander Peterson? Colonel Petrovsky?" the director began to ask after Redford had sat down, drawing a mere shrug from him. He couldn't claim to know any of these people, at least not by name. "No? Well, what about Rear Admiral Kohaku?" Contrary to the others, that name immediately rang a bell. Following the armistice with the Batarian Hegemony, an action he knew to have been rooted in the fear of depleting the galaxy's military resources shortly before the Harbinger's attack, Kohaku, back then still the commander of the 8th Fleet, had been one of the treaty's most outspoken opponents within the HSA's military. Not only had he demanded that the Council finish the war the batarians had started, he had also objected to the court martial of several ranking HSA officers, who, due to working hand in hand with the IFS cells that had joined in the defense of several planets, had been charged with both insubordination and treason, the latter action drawing the attention of HSAIS.

"I do know Kohaku," he said with a nod.

"Figured you would."

"Did he-" Reford was about to ask whether or not Kohaku had finally done what HSAIS had been suspecting him off for quite a few months by now, ditch the HSA and link up with whatever IFS cell it was that was leading the charge on the latest spike in separatist activity.

"Kohaku's dead," Rei cut him off. "Murdered onboard of his flagship while refueling over Elysium," the director went on. "His death marks the latest incident regarding decorated officers that served during the Blitz disappearing or turning up dead."

"Shit," he frowned, already suspecting where this conversation would go. "Any particular reason why we're only hearing this now? Colonels and Captains aren't exactly small numbers."

"Because until Kohaku, the superiors of the victims passed the deaths and disappearances off to military police as regular crimes," the director explained before recognizing Redford's expression, likely aware of what exactly the specialist was thinking. After the asian man ran a hand through his greying hair, he sighed and went on. "Don't worry, we're already looking into those officers as well."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Redford replied with another shrug. "We both know where this road goes, we've been down it before." As if the whole Eden Prime mess wasn't enough. With everything going on, the last thing they needed was a bunch of separatist sleepers murdering, or worse, recruiting HSA officers.

"We still need to check," the older man figured. "See how deep this thing runs, how many other cases we missed." the director sighed as he drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him. "My guess is, they figured Kohaku would be a save choice."

"Seems likely," Redford added. "When negotiations ended, the guy was just about ready to go to Khar'shan himself. Rumor has it he didn't take kindly to being told to stand down."

"Frustrated with his superiors, hates the HSA's policies," the director began. "Textbook IFS deserter material, really."

"Is that your assessment or does it say that in his file?"

"Both."

"Seeing how this turned out," Redford sighed. "Kohaku was a lot more loyal than internal affairs gave him credit for. They contact him, he tells them to go to hell and instead of recruiting him, they cross him off to keep their secret."

"That's probably how it went down," the director nodded.

They both knew what came next.

"When am I leaving, Sir?"

"Right now. Already got your briefing right here," the man said as he reached into his pocket and slid a small datadrive across the desk. "Go to Elysium and start with Kokaku. See if you can figure out who killed him and go from there."

"What if I find the guy?"

"Optimally? You bring him in for questioning," the director said before his eyes narrowed. "If that's not an option," he began, only for Redford to save him the trouble.

"I ice him, copy that," he finished. "Can I assume the same goes for any of the disappeared officers that turn out to be turncoats?"

"Yes, you can."

"Good. Anything else I should know?" Redford asked as he looked at the small black device before stuffing it into the pockets of his dress uniform.

"All-in on this one, Lal Qila. The last time they did something like this, they threw us into a civil war. This isn't happening. Not again and not on our watch."

"Damn right it isn't."

* * *

 _Codex: The Krogan Rebellions 700 CE (Part of Entry Series 'The Krogan Rebellions')_

 _After achieving a victory in the Rachni Wars through the help of the krogan, who after being uplifted by the Salarian Union proved crucial in carrying the fight to the rachni on their toxic homeworlds, the Citadel Council entered an era of peace and prosperity, both the memory of the last war's devastation and its new krogan peacekeepers keeping the galaxy in line in spite of the poor shape in which the Council left the war. Eager to quell critics and NGO organisations pointing out the massive casualties conscription had causesd within the ranks of the Asari Republics and the Salarian Union militaries, the two members of the council began a rapid process of disarming large portions of its military in favour of building up the krogan one, passing over equipment, installations, ships and at times entire planets to the recently uplifted species, which, thanks to a better quality of life, new technologies and the lack on an enemy to fight, experienced a population boom of unprecedented scale, quickly filling the ranks of the then newly founded Krogan Peacekeeping Corps. Now, under the watchful eyes of the vast krogan armies, the galaxy began to rebuild._

 _However as history would proof, this peace shouldn't last._

 _As decades passed and the members and associates of the Council continued to fix the damage done by the rachni, concerned voices of the scientific community began to speak up against the optimistic tone of their diplomatic counterparts. Instead of colouring the optimistic picture of granting the krogan a seat on the Council for their role in defeating the rachni, they all repeated the same warning over and over again._

 _In the long run, krogan population growth and the expansion it brought would not be sustainable and, in accordance to their nature and culture, would lead the krogan to spiral out of control. Faced with the ethical and political dilemma of telling the krogan species to pull the breaks on its golden age, the Council reigning from from 691 CE to 700 CE at first decided not to act and, in spite of the warning signs already visible on the horizon, dismiss the krogan critics as a minor fringe group, an approach that became impossible to maintain when the krogan began to annex Council worlds._

 _In what many call the most decisive day of galactic history, the Citadel Council summoned one of the krogan's most prestigious leaders, Overlord Kredak, who had previously distinguished himself through his service in the Rachni Wars, and demanded that he stop his species most recent annexation of Lusia, a prosperous asari colony._

 _While sources disagree on how exactly the meeting transpired, its result echo throughout the galaxy to this very day._

 _After being ordered to cease hostilities and return the colonies back to their former owners, the Kredak leashed out and attacked the two councilors, daring them to try and take back the planet by themselves before being eliminated by C-SEC forces. With Kredak, the diplomatic approach died as well, opening the gates for war once again._

* * *

 **A/N:** **Soo.. I'm late. Way late actually. This is the longest time it ever took me to update the story...**

 **BUT**

 **There's an actual reason for it.**

 **Life just kind of caught up to me.**

 **I don't want to bore you with the details an all that jazz but as things are, I was and will probably continue to be really, really swamped. Long story short, police academy is a shitload of work, especially if you do it in a town some 350 kilometers away from home. Not really having a home, or reliable internet (thank my cellphone provider I can even update this, hotspots are a sweet invention) in said town at the moment doesn't help either.**

 **So yeah...**

 **What else is new?**

 **Biggest change first.**

 **We now have chapter titles, something you can in big parts thank for, Admiral Sakai who was more than just helpful in coming up with most of these.**

 **So, now we talk chapter... for something that took me a month, not all that much actually happened. Sure, we're setting up where things will go from here on out and the codex kind of hints at the whole 'history repeats itself' trope I already had going with the krogan and turians before.. but other than that? yeah...**

 **Saren being indoctrinated is now something two people know. Guess that'S kind of a big deal.**

 **As I said. A lot of setup, basically..**

 **So, getting back to the whole life stuff. While I can't make any predictions, I'll just have to wait and see how things become once I actually permanently move to this town (traveling back home every weekend at the moment) ... I think it's safe to say Semper Vigilo's updating pace will probably change. How badly? IDK. I might get a lot of writing done while sitting in the train every friday and sunday but as things are, I just got a lot of other stuff to do on the sidelines.**

 **Either way.**

 **I'm not dead.**

 **The story is not dead.**

 **Life just finally caught up with me. Which from my point of view, isn't such a bad thing.**

 **For the record, we'Re at 413 reviews, 630 favorites and 738 follows.**

 **Review and let me know what you think.**

 **See you around next time.**


	49. Split

**Chapter 49. Split**

* * *

 **2156 CE, Citadel, Office of Councilor Valern**

Terrible.

Catastrophic.

An absolute disaster.

All of these terms were ample descriptions for the kind of situation Valern found himself in.

While he had initially assumed that overseeing negotiations between the Union's diplomats and the dalatrasses would be the worst part of his day, the 'little' problem of both sides utterly refusing to see things from each others point of view always grew into messy arguments no matter what he did, the more than unsettling message of General Arterius had quickly shown him just how comparatively insignificant the increasing tensions between the civilian and noble born elements of his people's government and the League of One's lingering shadow above it all, who's continued existence still only he knew about, were.

On any other day the fact that the teal salarian, who had first met him in this very office, was shadowing him in a way that ensured that just Valern himself would notice combined with the Union and dalatrasses slowly spiraling towards an incredibly dangerous clash of interest during the highly volatile time of the biggest colonialisation wave in centuries would've been the only thing on his mind but as things were, it simply felt mundane. Even though the possibility of STG's most dangerous opponent deliberatly putting the two halves of his government on a collision course was amongst one of the worst scenarios he could think of, his own role in the matter, namely choosing to keep the League's existence a secret for the sake of maintaining his own secrets, doing his situation no favours, there simply was a much bigger and much more dangerous threat looming on the horizon than the dalatrasses trying to officially establish their own naval forces.

In the world he had lived in before taking over this long-term undercover assignment from Cozek, no one could hope to come close to doing as much damage as a double agent with inside knowledge. No hit and run, no raid, not even a full STG infiltration regiment. There simply was no greater threat to an alliance like their own than being betrayed, be it willingly or not, from within. With the information he held, the plans he knew and the resources he had access to, Agent Arterius could cripple their efforts tremendously, something Valern was certain he'd already begun doing some time ago. While the effect was still poorly understood and as such there was always the possibility of him being wrong, the salarian doubted that Arterius had been able to resist his new master completely ever since the likely date of his indoctrination. The possibility of him having done something that would interfere with their plans wasn't just there, it was a certainty.

Valern sighed.

It had been precisly this line of thought and the memory of his own role in the events leading up to the indoctrination of his former ally that had caused him to open up the Spectre reports and C-SEC files dealing with the disappearance of his former colleague, Councilor Benezia, and view them not from his own view but from that of a turned Arterius. If one wanted to destabilize any region for an invasion of an outside force, one of the surest ways to do so was to compromize its political or military leadership. Be it a mere fiefdom on Sur'Kesh, a colony, an entire cluster or even the whole Citadel Council, the principle remained the same. While he didn't have any offsprings himself, Valern suspected that luring Benezia into a situation where the Spectre could've captured her in an attempt to subject the asari to the same effect that had turned him, would've been surprisingly easy. To him it was no secret that the councilor and the Spectre had been at odds with each other ever since T'Soni's only daughter had begun following Arterius on some of his missions. Being as protective as one expected an asari mother to be, Benezia had made it abundantly clear that she didn't want the turian anywhere near Doctor T'Soni. As such, the only thing Valern figured Arterius would've needed to do in order to lure her out, and by extension attempt to turn her, would've been to approach Benezia's daughter in a way that would cause the councilor to notice and take action.

Going from there, he simply assumed that the turian was more than capable of laying an ambush in which he could neutralize whatever guards his marks brought, detain Benezia without killing her and destroy what little trails the councilor would've left on her way to her less-than-sanctioned personal intervention.

Indoctrinated or not, the turian was still a Spectre.

This was exactly the kind of missions he had been recruited to accomplish.

As he closed another report, opening the next one not a second later, Valern placed his hands in front of his mouth, a habit he usually fell into when being deep in thought. The councilor's replacement, a matriarch by the name of Irissa, had been more than eager to slow down the efforts to locate the missing asari, an action he could've easily suspected to be rooted in Irissa and Arterius working together if not for the fact that the salarian seriously doubted that the turian, no matter how wealthy or influential he might've been beyond his Spectre status, could influence internal asari politics. If anything, the asari efforts to call off the search were likely just the product of something as old as time itself, the desire to keep the power one gained. Given that she was only a temporary replacement, which Benezia had ironically started out being as well, it was far more likely for her actions to be her own than that of Arterius and the Harbinger. Out of everyone involved with the search, she had the most to lose should the missing councilor turn up again.

Valern lowered his hand and brought up his second, hidden omni-tool. Self-motivated or not, one couldn't be too careful. Quickly sending up a message up STG's chain of command, asking for the surveillance of the asari councilor to be increased, the salarian didn't allow himself even the shortest break before returning to the task in front of him. He didn't need a pause yet. He had slept nearly three full hours last night.

"Councilor Valern, the human ambassador just informed me that Agent Anderson arrived on the Citadel," the voice of one of his many personal assistants, this one not an STG agent, came through the intercom of his room, "he now requests that the emergency meeting be moved up."

"What do Sparatus and Irissa say?" he asked, his attention now focused on the report of one C-SEC officer strangely enough insisting that he had just discovered a solid lead on what happened to Benezia just earlier today. Apparently he was mere hours away from finding critical information and the one thing still standing in his way were his superiors who had yet to green-light his daring mission proposal.

"Councilor Sparatus already cleared his entire schedule until further notice and Councilor Irissa maintains that she is as flexible as this situation requires her to be."

"Then I won't be the one to keep them waiting," the salarian answered, taking care to maintain his cover personality and not let slip that he already knew what would happen beyond the closed doors of the Council's chambers. "Tell them that I am fine with moving up the meeting."

"At once," the assistant replied before the line closed itself, a brief notice that the council would assemble in a standard hour following swiftly.

Even though he still had to make a number of preparations for the meeting, for example prepare himself for the possibility of having to explain his exact role in all of this without exposing his actual identity to his collegues, Valern remained seated, still focused on the report of the C-SEC detective. Having done field work himself, he could see why Executor Pallin deemed the proposal too risky. Going up against the Shadow Broker's henchman on your own was dangerous enough but justifying it with nothing but a hunch, some rumors and the vague statement that the situation would be under control once you actually got there was a very easy way to get yourself killed. The number of things that could go wrong because of what Valern from personal experience recognized to be good intentions and overconfidence were staggering, especially in a setting as unpredictable as the Lower Wards of the Citadel. Yet as he read over the file of the turian, the STG covert operative got the feeling that none of that would actually discourage the detective. If anything, these factors would probably just encourage somebody like him even more. He knew the type, after all early on in his career he had been just like him. Young, bold and ready to go to the edge of the world for the sake of completing the task handed to him.

While Valern knew that he was stretching the degree of authority he held by doing this, the chance of figuring out what had happened to Benezia and his own understanding of this 'Vakarian's' motives were more than enough to 'suggest' to Pallin that he'd allow his investigator to follow up on his lead.

* * *

 **6\. January 2415 AD, Citadel, Docking Bay D-24**

"Captain Anderson is off-board, XO Pressly has the bridge," Joker's voice echoed through the intercom of the Normandy's airlock as the four people who had been near the beacon just before its destruction began making their way towards the Presidium to take part in the emergency meeting that had been scheduled in the wake of the attack on Eden Prime by both the human and turian diplomats aboard the Citadel, the station that served as both the seat of the Citadel Council and the heart of Council space. While her career had caused her to be deployed everywhere from Earth all the way to the very edge of 'civilized space', the frontier of the Attican Traverse where only a few independent and a number of rather isolated human colonies were located, this station had never been amongst her postings, not even for shore leave. Emily had only ever been on the Citadel once, namely during the time she and her mother had lived with her dad shortly after her parents had both agreed that Arcturus Station was no longer a safe enough place for their daughter to grow up on after Andrej Kamarov had attempted to destroy it with a nuclear weapon.

"Udina should be here any minute now," Anderson muttered. Ever since she had woken up, the man had seemed on edge and up to now, the commander could only suspect that it was the imminent Council meeting that had set off the former N7. While she had initially hoped that the files and reports she had gotten from Harper would offer up more explanations for the Spectre's sudden change of personality, the numerous hours of reading had only succeeded in raising more questions. Although she now knew that the operatives she had found had been part of an HSA black ops division by the name of 'Cerberus', who had apparently been active ever since humanity had made First Contact the Citadel Council, the files had included no indication for most of the incredibly strange things she had seen on Eden Prime. As of right now, Emily still had no idea what the 'message' Harper had spoken off was, where the enormous gethz ship that had taken part in the attack had come from or why the geth forces on the ground had decided to turn every person, alive or not, they had gotten their hands on into the kind of monster she was glad she had yet to actually have nightmares of.

"Captain Anderson," she heard a slightly aggravated voice call out, the sense of hostility it carried with something as simple as a name tearing her from her thoughts rather abruptly. "I see you decided to bring company after all," the man, who she now recognized as Donnel Udina, the HSA's ambassador, added as he spotted them. Although she couldn't claim to know why the human Spectre had seemed on edge ever since she had woken up, it didn't take much to figure out the reason behind the ambassadors attitude. As the link between the HSA and the Council, he had likely been dealing with all kinds of trouble ever since Anderson had reported the critical failure of their mission to his superiors on the Citadel. "Even though I distinctively remember telling you not to," the older man sighed as he came to a stop in front of the group, his arms crossed in front of his chest. If there ever had been a stereotypical career politician, Shepard was now looking at him. Between the light brown designer suit, the marine guards flanking him on either side and his complete confidence in his own power, there really wasn't anything about the man that didn't suggest that he was used to being in charge.

"They saw the beacon's destruction. The council will want to hear their testimony."

"While that might be the case, none of them have been cleared by C-SEC to attend the meeting," the politician countered with a frown.

"They will be cleared if I vouch for them," Anderson replied immediately, standing his ground.

"Not while they're still armed," Udina pointed out, throwing a suspicious glance at Emily. Truthfully, she hadn't entirely understood why Anderson had insisted that they'd suit up before stepping off the Normandy either. Even though it was completely legal for a Spectre and whoever accompanied him to carry weapons aboard the Citadel, a right usually reserved for C-SEC officers or selected security personal, the N7 genuinely didn't get why Anderson had seen it fit to give Alenko, Williams and her the order to put on their hardsuits and bring their weapons. It wasn't like they were planning to head into the much more dangerous wards. The chamber of the Council were in the Presidium which, thanks to C-SEC's countless number of regulations, tireless surveillance efforts and over-frequent patrols, was probably among the safest place in the galaxy.

"We'll see about that," the Spectre replied before shoving past the ambassador and his guards and nodding towards the group of C-SEC officers waiting to escort him and Udina to the top of the Presidium. "Let's go. We're gonna run late."

While the N7 couldn't claim to know either of them, she had only ever shook Ambassador Udina's hand once shorty after the Skyllian Blitz and until recently Captain David Anderson had been nothing but an example they had been told to strife towards back in Rio, it was obvious that there had been bad blood between the two men way before today. Whatever had happened between the two, it was hard to miss that it had left both of them with little good will for each other, which could be more than problematic given that the ambassador would play a critical part in the upcoming meeting.

"Captain Anderson, this isn't the time for you to push your boundaries" Udina called before hurrying after the former N7, his detail following, an action that caused both Alenko and Williams to turn towards her. With the two men gone, Emily was the highest ranking person around for them to turn to. She knew that they expected her to know what to do, after all that was what a commanding officer was supposed to do, knowing what to do, but given how painfully unfamiliar she was with politics and how increasingly stranger this situation was becoming with every passing second, the commander was as much of a loss as her subordinates. Of course she knew better than to show that. Deciding that there was only really one direction to go, forward, the red-haired N7 followed on Udina's heels, walking through the mostly empty docking bay and towards the C-SEC squad as well.

"This isn't about boundaries, Ambassador," Anderson brushed him off as the C-SEC patrol spotted them, one officer opening the doors of the transport craft likely meant for them while the others seemed to keep an eye on the open spaces around them. "It's about time. The Council needs to know what really happened on Eden Prime and they need to know now."

That did it. Anderson definitely knew more than he let on, which incidentally also meant that Director Harper, who she just assumed was in on whatever it was that caused the Spectre to act like this, hadn't told her the entire story either. She didn't appreciate that one bit, especially not these days and especially not from someone who had put up a sincere facade.

"They will once you begin following protocol."

"Ambassador, we both know that protocol went out the window the moment Eden Prime happened," that sentence caused Shepard to begin suspecting that it wasn't just Harper and Anderson that knew more than her. Udina did as well.

Just what the hell had she stumbled into here?

"Captain Anderso-" the ambassador was about to continue his protest as Anderson climbed into the large, armored skycar and strapped in.

"Save it for later and get in the damn car, Udina," the Spectre interrupted him before turning his head towards Shepard and the two marines behind her. "You three too. That's an order." While there was little doubt in the N7's mind that even his Spectre status wouldn't be able to save him from whatever disciplinary action the ambassador could direct towards Anderson, Emily was surprised to see Udina comply.

Although the ride to the Presidium and the painfully silent but thankfully brief walk to the Council Chambers should've given Shepard ample time to collect her thoughts and make sense of what had happened in the last twenty four hours, the commander still found herself incapable of entirely wrapping her head around things. She blamed most of that on the high odds of her not being told the whole story. As they walked up the flight of stairs leading to the chambers, Emily couldn't help but take notice of the turians, one clad in blue C-SEC armor and the other downing a more formal blue and black dress uniform, arguing just a few steps shy of the large doors leading to three of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy.

"I might not know how you got the councilor to put in a good word for you, Vakarian, but don't expect that this means I won't be watching your every step down there," the black-plated one of the two said, the telltale flanging that should've accompanied his voice lost to the commotion around them. While the meeting wasn't public, it had apparently been almost impossible to keep people, and more importantly the press, unaware of the fact that the council would assemble for an emergency meeting. Between the human group, the two turians and at least a platoon's worth of armored C-SEC officers, Shepard could make out dozens of individual news reporters and journalists, the camera drones that accompanied most of them drawing suspicious glances from the security personal posted on the levels overlooking the stairs. "You will keep it strictly by-the-book this time, is that understood?"

"Yes, Executor," the silver-plated one replied as the humans walked past them. "By the book," he added with a nod. She had spent enough times around turians to recognize the annoyed look on the other's face. Whatever story the other was trying to sell, he wasn't buying a word of it.

"Let me do the talking, Captain," she heard Udina say from next to Anderson. Just like herself, the former N7 hadn't said a word since they had landed, simply marching forward with steely determination, the way to the chamber appearing to be second nature to him. For the first time of the day, Emily found herself agreeing with the ambassador. While she hadn't appreciated him trying to cut them out of the debriefing, partially because of Anderson's insistence that they should partake but also because of the hope that being there while the Spectre talked to the Council would offer some much needed answers, he was right in the regard that he should be the one to present their case. Additionaly to it being an ambassador*s job to do the talking, the commander could tell that Anderson, while focused on the mission, wasn't exactly in any state to tell whatever full story he and Udina knew.

As they stepped near the doors, Shepard was surprised to see them open without as much of a second of delay or voice of complaint, the asari office nearest to them simply waving them through in spite of their visible weapons and armor. Walking into the chambers was a strange experience, not only because of how empty the spacious room was but also because of how strangely intimidated Shepard felt the moment she came face to face with the three councilors. There, standing just slightly above them on a set of podiums, were an asari, a salarian and a turian who could change half the galaxy with nothing but an unanimous vote. While being a commissioned officer in a special operations outfit like N7 required her to take on massive amounts of responsibility, she couldn't imagine what kind of weight each of these people carried with them every day. She wasn't entirely certain what kind of person it took to rise to such a task.

"Agent Anderson, Ambassador Udina," the asari, who's name Shepard actually couldn't recall due to her being a rather recent replacement for the still missing Councilor Benezia, began to speak. "I see you saw it fit to bring an escort?" The commander wasn't entirely sure if the graceful tone all matriarchs she had ever heard speak seemed to adopt was something that formed naturally in asari as they grew older or if it simply was a product of only the truly well-spoken ones getting into politics in the first place.

"They're not an escort, Irissa they're witnesses," the turian to her right threw in not a moment later, "They were around when the beacon was destroyed and they're to offer their own statement of the event," the councilor added a moment later.

"I see," the asari said before focusing on Anderson alone. "Given the circumstances, I think we can all agree that this breach of protocol is our smallest concern right now," Emily saw the Spectre nod at that. "Good, moving on," the matriarch began, her features softening in the process. "Ambassador Udina, Agent Anderson, I think it is in all of our interests that you now present your statements," she said, her eyes narrowing almost immediately, contrasting her otherwise friendly demeanor and tone, "starting with the exact details of how it came to be that the only known working prothean beacon was destroyed right in the midst of hundreds of human and turian soldiers."

There it was. Shepard had been waiting to hear someone be angry about the absolute failure of the mission ever since the artifact had quite literally blown up in her face and up to now, no one had seemed that particularly concerned about it. As she watched Udina and Anderson, expecting either of them to be the first to speak up, it only made sense given that they were the ones being addressed, Emily found herself caught offguard when another person took the initiative.

"Before either of you answer that question," the voice of Councilor Valern, the third, salarian member of the executive committee, echoed through the chamber, making its way up and across the empty levels where usually selected delegates of the associate species, journalists and other influential people would be seated to pay witness to the meeting. "May I inject something, Councilor Irissa?"

"Of course. You don't need my permission to speak, Valern. We are both members of this council."

"Agent Anderson, the ambassador and their witnesses didn't come here to be chastised for something they had no control over. They're here to help us. Needlessly antagonizing them will only make this more difficult for all of us," he went on not a second later. "Please consider this from here on out," he added before turning his head back to them. "Please begin."

Sharing a nod with Anderson, Udina and the Spectre both stepped forward and did just that in a process which from her point of view seemed to stretch over the better part of an hour, Anderson describing each and every little detail of the mission and Udina now and again offering possible options they could choose from here on out. As she watched from behind them, glad that her service had made her used to standing in one place for a long time, Emily noted that the asari councilor, Irissa, was the one to do the most talking, with the turian one ever so often leaping in to offer his support for a proposal that Udina made or to defend the actions that had been taken by the people on the ground, likely drawing from his own experiences in the process.

Contrary to what she had expected when first walking into the chambers, it wasn't her, Alenko and Williams that seemed to be the most out of place but the salarian. Besides his early interruption, the grey amphibian didn't seem to have that much to say, only listening, his facial expression completely unaltered as some of the more gruesome details of the mission, which seemed to shock everyone but Anderson, herself and at times Alenko, were revealed to them. Only when they reached the ending of their report, at which point Emily herself had only been asked to either confirm or deny what Anderson was telling the council, naturally always choosing the former since every word out of the Spectre's mouth seemed as accurate as her own memory of the mission, and Irissa had asked her turian colleague if he had any more details about the death of the Blackwatch team, something she hadn't given much thought to until Anderson had pointed out that his own assessment of the situation suggested that they had been killed by an ambush, not a sustained attack, did he speak up.

"Sparatus, from what I understand, the details of their deaths are still unknown, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you haven't made any progress in that regard, either Agent Anderson?"

"No, I haven't" the answer almost seemed forced to Shepard. While the former N7 had did a rather decent job at hiding his demeanor from his superiors up to now, Udina always stepping in for him when the Spectre had been about to give a less formal reply to some of Irissa's questions, he seemed to have slipped this time. "Yet."

"Then it seems like this particular inquiry will have to wait," the grey salarian offered as he turned to his asari colleague. "At least until a more thorough investigation can be-"

At first Shepard wasn't sure what the beeping coming form the turian councilor's podium was. As such she, and everyone in the room really, turned to Sparatus in expectation, a slightly paranoid portion of her mind telling the N7 that she was about to be the victim of some kind of bombing aimed a the councilor. Emily continued to look at the turian until he produced a small cube from below his desk, recognizing it after a brief moment. She had seen one of these things before, namely during a joint operation with the Hierarchy's cabals. They were communication devices much like the HSA's own hologram projectors, only much smaller, handier and capable much better reception.

"Councilor Sparaturs, I apologize for the interruption," a voice flanged through the cube as a small figure appeared on top of it. While the distance made it hard to tell, Shepard could see that at least one of the fringes on the turian's head was missing, an injury suggesting that he was either part of some combat outfit or simply the unlucky victim of an accident. However additionally to the obvious injuriy, a number of fainter scars and the fact that he seemed to be clad in a heavy set of armor supported her suspicion. "But I have to inform you of a new development regarding the death of my operatives."

His operatives?

Alright.

He was Blackwatch then.

Was it just her or did Udina and Anderson seem like they had been caught offguard?

"Go ahead, General."

"New intelligence suggests that they were betrayed by one of our own, a Blackwatch operative who worked with the geth to access the beacon for as of yet unknown reasons."

This definitely was a bad thing. She had worked with Blackwatch exactly once before Eden Prime. The brief mission, which had gone down with any casualties of their own had made one thing clear. Those turians knew their stuff, even more so than the other professional soldiers of the Hierarchy.

"After accessing the one audio-recording that survived the encounter and analysing it, I believe that the traitor has been identified." The timing of this entire deal was just too coincidental to be true. As she looked at the people around her, Shepard looked for something that would tell her who had given this general the cue to make his appearance, cursing internally when she failed to pick up on anything. The bits and pieces of tells she had heard about or knew of simply weren't enough to figure out the people in front of her. She lacked both the training and the experience to tell who was behind this. "Which brings me to the reason why I contacted you," the turian went on, each of his words seemingly causing Anderson to stand stiffer. "The operative who murdered my soldiers is in your service. He's currently holding Spectre status," while she lacked the experience to pick up on more subtle clues, she recognized the increasing shock on the councilor's face, his mandibles slowly moving apart as the unknown Blackwatch general kept talking.

"General Arte-" Councilor Sparatus was about to begin.

"The traitor is Agent Saren Arterius," she knew that name.

Everyone knew that name.

Everyone knew Saren Arterius.

If she hadn't been so surprised, Emily might've even noticed the similarities between that name and the general's.

As her eyes darted between Anderson, the Councilors, Udina and the marines on either of her side, she knew that all of them were expecting some kind of reaction out of the former N7. Everyone in the room knew that the captain and Saren Arterius had infamously worked together on many occasions and as such, everyone expected him to do something.

"And while his motives are unknown as of yet, it is my duty to the Hierarchy to ask that you brand him a rogue Spectre," the general finished on a cold tone, his words echoing through the empty chambers.

This was beyond bad.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 2156 CE, Attican Traverse, Enroute to Feros**

Even though the beacon had given him what Sovereign had expected it to give him, Saren knew that it wasn't enough. The vision was there but it was hazy. He knew that he still needed the Cipher to understand it. Hence, he, the geth and Sovereign were now headed to Feros, the planet-spanning city that he now understood to have been the only one of its kind to survive the last cycle due to it never having been added to the prothean star charts stored aboard the Citadel, which the reapers had used to harvest one population center after the other, a practice they intended to repeat again this time. While early pioneers had constructed the megapolis, documented most of the planet's wildlife and prepared it for the arrival of its inhabitants, the colony ships had never made it through the relay. Before they had been meant to set out, the harvest had already begun, dooming the protheans to the same fate the galaxy would soon experience agai-

As the stinging in his shoulder reminded him of the injury his comra- the turian on Eden Prime had caused, Saren ended the line of thought and leaned back in the throne at the center of Sovereign. It had been specifically constructed to quickly heal him from any wound so that he could continue to fulfill his place in the pattern, a fact that he was thankful for. Feeling the cooling sensation of the painkillers, which were stronger than anything else he had ever experienced, wash over him, the turian's physical discomfort, which was marginal at best, quickly vanished, allowing him to keep listening to the sole other organic currently occupying the room with him.

"My sources have now confirmed that the beacon on Eden Prime was destroyed," the soft voice of the asari, who after spending many weeks aboard the vessel had finally accepted her own role in what was to come, spoke, causing the turian to lower the hand that had been covering his face. Although his initial plan to turn Benezia and have her reclaim to her position on the Council before people noticed her prolonged absence had been foiled due to the asari's mental fortitude, she still had turned out to be useful. Not only were the loyal huntresses who had been foolish enough to follow her call a nice addition to his otherwise purely geth army, the former councilor also still had a number of valuable contacts all over the galaxy. While she was no Shadow Broker, the information she could give Sovereign and him had turned out to be irreplaceable when combined with his own assets. "But if the recording of one of the troopers left behind on Eden Prime is anything to go by," due to Sovereign traveling faster than any other ship, the final transmission of that particular geth drone had taken some time to catch up to them, "one human might've accessed the beacon after you."

For a reason he couldn't quite comprehend, Saren suddenly found himself leaping forward, jumping out of the chair and storming towards the asari, an unearthly snarl escaping his mouth right as he pinned Benezia against one of Sovereign's internal walls. Under different circumstances, he might've been impressed by the fact that the asari didn't even do as much as flinch when he increased the pressure on her neck, an animalistic side of himself he hadn't known to be there up to now daring him to finish her then and there. Only when the whisper sprang into action, did he calm down.

"Do you know who?" he asked, coldly, letting go of the matrarich, who continued to stand against the wall like nothing had just happened. Some asari really were a lot more robust than people gave them credit for.

"We identified her as Commander Emily Shepard," Benezia replied a moment later. As he recognized the name from before, having read it several times after the Skyllian Blitz, the turian chose to walk back to the throne, encouraged by his now once more bleeding arm. "You might have heard of her. She fought during the Sky-"

"She has to die," he echoed the words of the whisper before sitting down and again resting his face in his own hand. Someone with the same knowledge as him was too dangerous to his plan. They had to be eliminated at once.

"Our contacts on the Citadel say that she is still aboard the station. If you want to, I can reassign the hitmen you sent after the quarian," unlike many other things he had done in the last months, he remembered that. During the attack, a particularly talented pilgrim had managed to retrieve a data core of one of his geth before it could enact all of its purging routines and fled to the Citadel, hoping to return it to the flotilla. Of course he knew how she had done it. He and Doctor T'Soni, who he by now had too sent a contingent of mercenaries and geth after in hopes of gaining her help through less subtle means, had exploited the same flaw a few months ago.

"Don't reassign them, double their pay and expand their contract," he murmured.

Tali'Zorah also had to die.

"It will be done," the asari said before bowing ever so slightly and turning on her heel, leaving Saren alone in the room located near the very heart of Sovereign's structure.

As he briefly found himself disgusted at the prospect of ordering someone else to do his dirty work, sending some coward with a gun and no morals whatsoever to murder a quarian girl of all people nonetheless, Saren felt the talon on the hand that his face had been resting in extend just a moment before its sharp tip dug into the softer portion of his head where his white, unmarked facial plates ended in their fringes. Feeling the blood trickle from the injury and down his neck for as long as it took him to regain control over his body, the turian then let a groan escape him as he pressed down on the small but painful wound. Looking at the blue stain on his white gauntlet for a moment before leaning back in the chair, Saren couldn't quite shake the thought that someone else was trying to take control of his body.

Or rather take it back from the one currently controlling him.

What was happening to him?

Where was the constant humming he only noticed now even coming from?

Why was his left hand suddenly trying to keep his right one from reaching for the gun attached to his belt?

Why did he feel like he was the one who was in control of the hand reaching for the Carnifex?

When dwelling on these ideas for just a moment too long provoked a chorus of voices to flood his minds with instructions to prepare for the landing on Feros, Saren felt peace and calm return to him, his purpose clear and his resolve renewed.

There was no time to answer any of his futile quarries. There was still work to be done.

The Cipher was held by a creature who's given name changed with every cycle, its continued survival being owned to the fact that unlike other organics, it could never hope to ascend to the stars. Although it could be considered intelligence and as such could be talked into giving up the Cipher in a way that ensured it wouldn't be damaged through a fight it had no hopes of winning in the first place, it was for all intents and purposes simply below the attention of the Reapers, being just a mere weed in a field of ripe civilizations awaiting the harvest. Once he was done on Feros, he'd understand the prothean message and once he understood it, he'd be once step closer to finding the Conduit.

As satisfaction over the prospect of playing his role in the next cycle washed over him again, Saren never even registered the message telling him to return to the Citadel at once nor the one informing him that one of the projects he had instructed a team of independent scientists of questionable morality during his time on Palaven had arrived on Vermire, which, given the presence currently paying close attention to his every conscious thought, was a good thing. If it ever learned of the things that had been set in motion by its thrall during one of the ever recurring moments of clarity it had overlooked up to now, it might have realised that it there was still a person hiding in the dark, shadowy corners of the mind it was trying to dominate or made sense of the phrases that seemed to echo from it time and again. But as things were, neither it nor the turian as he was this moment, had any idea that Sovereign had yet to actually break Saren Arterius.

For now all it and the turian cared about was the Cipher.

The cycle would not be broken.

* * *

 **Sixteen Minutes Later, 6. January 2415 AD, Citadel, Embassy Area, HSA Embassy**

"Captain, I swear, if you knew this was going to happen," she heard Udina begin, the anger in his voice evident.

"What gives you the idea that I did?"

"Don't give me the attitude, we both kno-" before the sentence was finished, the two vanished in Udina's office, their voices getting cut off by the door closing itself.

"Can you believe this? A Spectre working with the geth?" Williams asked, shaking her head before leaning on the visitor desk the three marines were now stuck waiting by while the argument between the two older men began to unfold beyond the the door. If she was honest, the commander was surprised that Udina had managed to stay quiet this long. He had practically been boiling with anger from the moment they had left the Council's chambers but still had managed to stay as silent as Anderson all the way to the embassy.

"I heard of Spectres going rogue but Saren Arterius of all people? Wasn't he their best agent?" Alenko replied, sounding equally confused.

Emily herself didn't know what to make of it either.

This was just another point on the increasing list of strange things that had happened to her ever since getting the order to relocate to the Normandy. First Eden Prime, then the geth and their monsters, then the beacon, then Harper and now this. If somebody had told her, that what had started out as a simple trip to Arcturus would turn into whatever this was shaping up to be two days ago, she would've laughed into that person's face. After all, lighting never struck twice. She had already gone through the weird portion of her career after the Skyllian Blitz. In her opinion, she had been done with it after finishing N7 training.

"Best agent? Try poster boy," the marine replied with a sigh. "He wasn't just a Spectre," she went on, "he was the Spectre. Longest serving turian member of the branch, a nearly flawless track-record and common decency to top it all of," Williams finished, emphasising the last point. Given what Spectres did and how they could basically get away with just about everything as long as they claimed that it was for the sake of their mission, morale integrity wasn't as common of a trait as one would expect from the 'galaxy's finest'. "He'd be the last guy you'd think of if you're talking about rogue Spectres. Well, at least until now."

"What I don't get is why he'd work with the geth of all people," the biotic lieutenant answered, sounding somewhat unsure about whether or not he could use the word people when talking about the synthetic machines. "What's in it for hi-"

"Alright, zip it marines," Shepard warned just a moment before the doors opened up. Judging by the look on Anderson's face, it was a good thing she had been paying attention. If she was in the Spectre's shoes, which she 'd probably never be given how her assessment had turned out, the last thing she'd want to hear right now was two strangers discussing why her comrade and friend had decided to turn his back on her and the Council.

"And I said I'll go after him," she heard Anderson dismiss Udina before the former N7 marched out of the office, resolve evident in his voice. "Commander Shepard, on me."

"Yes, Si-."

"Belay that, Commander," Udina cut her off, effectively putting her in a tight spot. On the one hand, Anderson was her direct superior while the ambassador, even though he held a high rank in the government, had no immediate authority over her. On the other hand she could tell that whatever the Spectre intended to do next wouldn't be his most rational decision and she also knew that Udina could pull rank on her through another portion of the government. "Captain Anderson, until the situation regarding Agent Arterius becomes clearer, I'm ordering you not to leave this building."

At this point, Anderson seemed to have had it. In a way she got it, no matter how outlandish that scenario sounded in her head right now. Let's say one of the N7s she had worked with on her previous assignments or one of the marines she had ties to outside of her posting, Leng for example, were to turn rogue and lead an attack on a human colony for no evident reason, she'd probably want to go after them as well. Nearly nothing made people bond quite as much as going into combat together, something Anderson and Saren had done countless of times ever since the former had become the first human Spectre.

"With all due respect, Ambassador Udina," his tone was everything but respectful," I stopped answering to your chain of command when I became a Spectre," for a brief moment Anderson turned around and stared directly at the other man. "Like it or not, I'm going," he said before walking up to Shepard. "Move it, Commander."

"Then I'm afraid that you leave me with no other choice," the ambassador muttered with what sounded like a heavy heart before quickly bringing up his omni-tool, beginning a series of hand waves and gestures and sending off what appeared to be an already prepared message a few seconds later, "as of right now, I have asked the Council to temporary revoke your Spectre status on the grounds of your relation to Arterius making you a liability. The only thing one of them needs to do now is," Udina waited a few seconds before Anderson's omni-tool buzzed, "to confirm the request."

She didn't like where this was going.

"You have no idea what you just did," the Spectre replied coldly after skimming through the message.

"I do, but I'm afraid that you forced my hand," the ambassador said somberly. "Having you go after Arterius on your own is a recipe for disaster. Until the situation is resolved, you will remain here and stay under my supervision. It's for the bes-"

"Udina, every minute I spent on the Citadel is a minute we're going to be short on when shit hits the fa-" as he glanced at her, Anderson caught himself. "This is a mistake and you know it."

"So is letting you go after Saren," the ambassador insisted with a stern tone, evidently unconcerned that Shepard, Williams and Alenko were right next to them. "You're too close to this. If you go out there, you won't be coming back again." In a way, Emily also got that. "We're done here," Udina went on before looking at her, his hand already pointing at his office. "Commander, a moment if you may." It might've sounded like an invitation but the underlying order was clear to her. Other than complying there wasn't much she could do now.

"Of course," she nodded before entering the room, deciding that she'd rather not come out and ask why one of the two chairs opposite to the one Udina was now taking a seat in had been thrown across the room. Given what had just happened, she already had an answer in mind. As she briefly looked around the room, a tick she had developed at an earlier point of her service, Emily took in her surroundings. Other than the chair, the room was tidy, clean and well-maintained. Besides dozens of certificates, most of them decorated with the sigil of the HSA, the silvery walls were lined with pictures, several of them depicting what seemed to be the ambassador's family, the changing age of the boy, who slowly seemed to grow into a man as they went on, telling her that years at a time had passed between many of them. She hadn't pictured Udina as a family man. First impressions really could be deceptive. Other than pictures, the man also seemed to have a soft spot for plants, at least if the small trees and flowers comfortably resting in the several flowerpots scattered through the office were anything to go by. While it wasn't the strangest thing people collected, her mostly inherited thing for ship models for example, it certainly hadn't been amongst the things she had expected to find in here.

Figuring that she had spent enough time taking in the room, Emily too took a seat, hearing a sigh from across her as Udina unlocked his terminal, apparently trying to decide whether or not to continue his previous work.

"If I had known this would happen, I never would've brought Anderson," the man muttered as he folded his hands and rested his chin on them, having made his decision. "He and Arterius have way too much history, " he added before shaking his head. "By sending that message, I threw our effort to join the Council back at least twenty years," the ambassador paused for a moment. Now that he mentioned it, the human embassy asking the Council itself to bench their only operative amongst the Spectres' ranks probably wouldn't do that particular effort any favours. "It's too late for that now," he told not only her but also himself. As she was about to ask what she was doing her, other than listen to him talk himself through his own actions, Ambassador Udina looked directly at her. "Eden Prime was a disaster," right, she was probably here to get her own share of the blame. She should've figured that much really. "But as far as I'm concerned, your assessment isn't over just yet. "

Wait, what?

"Anderson might be out of the field for now but your candidacy evaluation is still considered active."

Where exactly was this going?

"If you were to produce results, help fix this mess," Udina muttered. "We might turn this into a win after all."

"I'm afraid I'm not following," Emily lied. She was following, she just wanted to hear him to say it.

"Tell me, have you ever been to the Lower Wards?"

Apparently lighting did strike twice.

* * *

 **Thirty Five Minutes Later, 6. January 2415 AD, Citadel**

"So, who's your pick? The volus or the quarian?" Morneau asked, weaving his way through the crowd, his eyes shifting between the rapid transit stations in front of them and his partner next to him.

"For the record, I still don't think splitting up is a good idea," the brunette woman replied just loud enough for him to hear. "Especially if it's on short notice."

"Yeah, I don't like it either but you know how this goes, Yo-yo. If the clock is running tight, we go one for one."

Initially, their main assignment had been to track down a lead on one of the Shadow Broker's more accessible assets, a former HSAIS agent by the name of Keiji Okuda who had left his post to go and work for the Broker. After arriving on the Citadel, their job had been to figure out how to use him to get closer to the Broker himself or rather, figure out what exactly Okuda had done to turn his new boss into his worst enemy and work from there. Additionally they had also been told to keep an ear to the ground for Saren Arterius, a turian Spectre who had risen to what Morneau himself considered to be an impractical degree of fame for someone working in that particular line of work. If they got the chance, Rei had told them to find out why exactly Arterius had gone off the radar but compared to Okuda, it had been a secondary objective at best. However with the most recent order of the director, those two priorities had immediately switched places.

From here on out, the leads on Saren Arterius were their main focus.

If the turian really was behind the attack on Eden Prime and really was indoctrinated, both scenarios seeming very likely according to the brief report that had been passed on to them from Lancelot, the Section 13 specialist permanently stationed inside the HSA's embassy, finding the Shadow Broker had just become comparatively insignificant. While the information regarding what the geth had done to most of their captives was being treated as highly classified for the time being, sooner or later somebody who had been on the ground would slip up. When that happened, it would only be a matter of hours before footage of colonists and soldiers, human and turian alike, getting turned into husks and being unleashed on their former comrades would surface and subsequently cause the public to start asking questions to which they should never hear the answer. The same went for the Leviathan that had led the attack. While its deep shade of purple and brief appearance on the battlefield was currently enough to write it off as a new kind of geth dreadnought, it wouldn't take long for people who knew their geth to start picking apart the cover story TNI and HSAIS had made up.

As such it was critical that they got in front of those things before that happened. Furthermore it was also critical that they reached their marks as soon as possible. Arterius might've been trained as a soldier by Blackwatch but he was just as much used to playing this game as Yo-yo, Morneau himself and everyone else in the intelligence business was. As soon as he got the chance, Arterius would burn every bridge he still had to the Citadel, making it nearly impossible to find him. While Barla Von, a volus informant of the Shadow Broker, who according to the information his partner had gotten from a rather drunken asari dancer was looking for Arterius just as eagerly as they themselves, likely enjoyed the protection of the Citadel's finest private security company, the Final Wave, the one quarian pilgrim who they were looking for most certainly did not. According to Lancelot, whatever intel she had gotten her hands on was important enough for a bunch of hitmen to shoot a couple of C-SEC officer over, indicating that 'Fist', a club owner, former agent of the Broker and by now one of Arterius' most important proxies on the station, was paying them enough for them to be willing to pick a fight with the Citadel's police force

Fist.

That was another problem they'd have to deal with sooner than later.

While Anderson had been benched by the Council for the time being, Lancelot had mentioned that the ambassador, who had no idea that two other specialists were deployed on the station as of right now, had ordered Commander Emily Shepard, who additionally to being their former colleague's daughter was also being evaluated for a possible Spectre candidacy by Captain Anderson, to look into Fist for him. This combined with the fact that their covers were currently still considered too valuable to break over the risk of running into an N7, a biotic and a marine who had no idea that the two of them were on their side, meant that they'd be racing against more than just Arterius' henchmen. If the commander got to Fist first, she'd probably do more harm than good. Decorated war hero or not, this was as far away from her field of expertise as it got.

"So, volus or quarian?" he asked again after making the smart choice and stepping out of the way of an elcor stomping down the aisle overlooking one of the station's main skycar lanes. Unlike potentially getting shot at by Shepard's daughter while making a move for Fist, him running into an alien, who was probably strong enough to crush a small battle tank, and being crushed himself was an avoidable problem.

"Volus," Yo-yo finally answered before turning her head towards him. "Still not a fan of the plan though," she added as the rapid transit stations came closer. Slinging the single-strap backpack over his shoulders, he tossed it towards her. If she went to the Presidium, she'd have more use for its content than him. Not much point in sophisticated hacking equipment in the least secured portion of the Citadel.

"Yeah, me neither," he replied as he instinctively checked to see if his pistol was still in its concealed holster. After his fingers brushed against the familiar metal grip of the SIS-8, he again adjusted his jacket so that no one would be able to instantly spot the faint impression of the gun. While carrying weapon was never wrong when heading into the Lower Wards, letting people know that you had one wasn't the smartest move either. If they clocked him as a threat, which any sensible person would do once they spotted his gun, Morneau's job would become far more difficult than it had to be.

He didn't intend for that to happen.

"If Lancelot is right," he usually was. "the quarian will try to contact the Broker for protection any minute now," his partner reminded him as she checked the watch, its bluish glow barely evident.

"Guess I better hurry then," he replied with a shrug. "I'll meet you back here with the intel as soon as I have it," he added while scanning the crowd around them, satisfied to find that he didn't recognize any faces. Good, no one was following them.

Yet.

"Copy that," Yo-yo replied before their paths slowly began to divide, each of them heading to a different transit stations. "And Magic?" he heard her say over his earpiece a few moments later.

"Yeah?"

"Don't die out there, alright?"

"Course not."

That too would make his job far more difficult.

* * *

 _Codex: Citadel Security Services_

 _The Citadel Security Services, commonly referred to as C-SEC, is the conglomerate of all of the Citadel's security personal, ranging from Enforcement and Investigation to Customs, Network, Special Response and even Patrol divisions and draws its candidates from a pool of highly qualified or naturally talented, sponsored candidates of the Council races and its associates. Even though C-SEC mostly fulfills policing duties, it should be noticed that it, when forced into the situation, is perfectly capable of fulfilling a paramilitary role by joining the Citadel Fleet and becoming the station's ground defense force._

 _Considered to be the galaxy's most elite police force, C-SEC's training and recruitment process is both rigorous and surprisingly soft at the same time. Event though unexperienced rookie will find themselves patrolling the wards of the Citadel before gathering experience on the much calmer Presidium and losing his 'shinie' status, a term drawn from the shiny state of a new set of standard issue C-SEC armor, full graduation and access to any non-Enforcement division is only considered possible after spending at least a year patrolling through one of the Citadel's wards._

 _While C-SEC generally draws its recruit from all over the galaxy and tends to employ most of them until they retire or reassign, most of its batarian members remaining on active duty even after the Hegemony revoked its status as an associate, the organisation has been dominated by turian officers ever since the Krogan Rebellions, something partially owned to their culture but also to the fact that every turian may fulfill all parts of their mandatory service, except for basic training and the first duty rotation, as a part of C-SEC._

 _It should be noted that besides the Spectres, with whom they shares a tense relation with, C-SEC is the sole armed branch of the Citadel Council and sometimes cited as an example of how effective a unified Council military made up of all member and most associate species could be._

* * *

 **A/N: Chapter 49!**

 **Slower than before, faster than expected.**

 **Had some downtime, got into the flow and finished this badboy up. So yeah. Thank me later.**

 **Again.. not a lot really happens, at least in terms of action.**

 **We get my version of the council meeting, for which I decided to do it way different, we get valern's perspective of things, we get to see why Anderson WON'T be the on in charge of the Normandy (come on guys, did you really think I'd let him steal Shepard's thunder here? He's got his role to play but it's not on the Normandy) we get to see a bit of Saren, who I said will continue to make apperances throughout this season (yes I'll still call it season, even if it's never gonna be a TV-Show. Screw you, I'm in denial. :c) and we get to see where one of the other backgrounds is currently going, from which scene some of you may already be able to figure out when he and Shepard are inevitably gonna run into each other.**

 **I mean it was obvious that these three guys were gonna meet each other at several points of the story.**

 **Right?**

 **Oh, also, in case some of you forgot.. (I didn't.) the League of One is still int his story and so is my interest in the salarians.**

 **Also, real life stuff, since its picking up a bit now, I don't really know how my upload schedule is gonna look starting in april.**

 **Probably all kinds of fucked up.**

 **I very likely got a move coming, I've got academy stuff to do and I got some other things coming up as well.**

 **So.. don't go thinking I'm dead if a month goes by and I don't update :p**

 **What's next I hear you ask?**

 **Well... it's still gonna be mostly Citadel. While I always found that the initial Citadel segment of ME1 is where most stories fall flat on their face and get outright boring, I'm actually gonna cut a lot of it short by leaving out the side missions a lot of people seem to write in... I mean... fate of the galaxy anyone? Who gives a shit about spending a thousand words just so Shepard can punch that reporter in the face?**

 **So yeah... gonna do a bit of tricking there (hint hint, if I put two backgrounds into the same location, I can have them do stuff 'offscreen' so to speak. So some events may only be refered to.)**

 **Except Verner. He'll show. Damn, he'll show eventually.**

 **Yeah.**

 **One day you're gonna get why I said that.**

 **For the record we're at 418 reviews, 643 favorites and 740 follows.**

 **Keep 'em coming mates.**

 **See you around next time.**


	50. In Over Your Head

**Chapter 50. In Over Your Head**

* * *

 **6\. January 2415 AD, Citadel, Lower Zakera Wards**

Besides the likes of Thessia and the oldest asari colonies, the Presidium of the Citadel was generally considered to be the crown jewel of the galaxy. In addition to serving as the political and diplomatic junction of the galaxy, the central ring of the station was clean, secure, pristine and calm, its polished silvery image attracting rich and influential people from all over the galaxy.

In that and many other regards it was so very much unlike the five wards that were attached to it.

Even thought they were still better off when compared to some of the other places of the galaxy he had visited, the Lower Zakera Wards, which were called that because of their location on the levels deep below the 'surface' area of the Citadel's arms and far out of sight of the artificial sky hanging over each of them, were much more in line with what one would expect when thinking of a space station inhabited by millions of people. Additionally to being more tightly-packed, dirtier and far more crime ridden than the Presidum, these parts of the station had also been much more impacted by the presence of the Council races. Unlike on the toplayers were the enormous, well-maintained structures left behind by the station's builders, the protheans, offered more than enough room for every one of the people living in them, the Lower Wards were a strange blend of both ancient and new architecture with smaller, newer habitats having been squeezed in between the larger, older prothean ones that had already been on the station when the asari had first found it over two thousand years ago.

As he checked his omni-tool again to see if he was still on the way he had been pointed on after asking where one would have to go if they wanted to procure information from a reliable source, the specialist noted the look that one of the C-SEC officers patrolling this part of the market gave him. He knew that he wasn't fitting in. Humans weren't exactly a common sight on the Citadel and especially not in the heavily populated areas. Zakera had already been far beyond its capacity by the time humanity had made its first steps on Luna. Simply put, there hadn't been any more room for a bunch of humans to move into by the time the HSA had actually made first contact with anything other than alien ruins.

Since he wasn't exactly keen on drawing more attention to himself, Daniel Morneau simply pretended that he hadn't noticed the C-SEC officer and kept moving forward to where the market ended and a series of apartments, bars, clubs and what he was sure to be his mark began. At first glance the squeezed-in building on the ground floor of the right side of the alleyway he was now walking through looked like the kind of place you'd go to if you were in desperate need of some reasonably cheap company, the flashing advertisement holograms and the rather blunt pictograms on the mirrored windows leaving little to no room for speculation as to what you'd find in there. It was not exactly the kind of place one had in mind when they thought of a good information broker. But upon taking a closer look, for example at the subtly reinforced windows on the third floor of the habitat's facade, and after considering that a lot of people liked to talk about what rumors or secrets they might've heard of recently after they had taken part in the oldest business of history, it became obvious that this was exactly the kind of place you'd find exactly what he was looking for, namely a good information broker.

Passing through the halfway-opened door under the watchful eye of a turian bouncer, Morneau needed a short moment before his eyes adjusted to the pale red light flooding the inside of the brothel. When it had passed, the specialist found himself in a lounge which mostly occupied by asari barkeepers and waiting costumers of all kinds of species being kept busy with slow, electronic music and alcohol. Besides the specialist himself, the only ones who didn't seem to be feeling the mood the place was trying to set were the three bouncers he had counted up to now, their visible positioning in the corner of the lounge and their watchful demeanor certainly being intentional to keep some of the more intoxicated guests from getting any funny ideas.

"Hey, scumbag! There's a line, you know?" he heard a salarian complain as he brushed past him and the other costumers and began heading towards the stairway ahead. Instead of revealing what he was actually here for, the specialist ignored him. His obvious disinterest in the corridor filled with the rooms where most of this place's revenue was probably being made right now was sure to quiet those who'd assume he was trying to cut ahead of them. As he reached the end of the lounge and dismissed the drink he was being offered with a wave of his hand, Morneau came face-to-face with his next obstacle.

"You can't go up there," another turian, who seemed to be subject to the same all-black dress code of the bouncer, said as he placed his arm right between him and the stairway hidden behind the half-opened curtain. "The girls are that way," he added while pointing to the corridor the specialist had just passed with his other hand.

"I know but I'm not here for them," Morneau replied as he caught the faint imprint of something hidden beneath the turian's suit jacket. "I'm looking for a quarian."

At first he wasn't entirely sure what to make of the look the turian was now giving him.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you but we don't have any of those," the bouncer began after his mandibles had twitched a couple of times, "with their immune system, you'd need a clean room, all kinds of meds and a team of paramedics on stand-by to ever even think about fu-"

Well.

Alright.

Considering where he currently was, his had admittedly been a pretty bad choice of words.

"Not like that, man" Morneau cut the turian off before he continued down that particular road. "I'm looking for a quarian," the specialist tried again. "Business, not pleasure," he expanded on his inquiry. For a few moments, the turian seemed to consider his words, looking at him, then up the stairs and then back at him.

"That kind of business isn't exactly cheap," his voice flanged back, his facial expression having returned back to the way it had been before their little misunderstanding.

"Good information never is. It's why I came prepared," the specialist replied with a shrug before the turian lowered his arm, evidently having made up his mind.

"Third floor," considering the windows, he had already figured that much from the outside, "second room to the left."

"Appreciate it."

"Just make sure that you've got the money to pay for it before asking for anything," the turian called from behind him, briefly revealing the Carnifex hidden beneath his jacket when Morneau turned around. "Otherwise you may not appreciate it after all."

After pretending to be slightly intimidated by the gesture to keep up the impression that he hadn't seen the weapon during the first few seconds of their conversation, the specialist climbed up the stairs, trying his best to ignore the second floor and the weird noises coming from it as he passed it. As far as he was concerned, he really could've gone without ever hearing what a volus sounded like when it did whatever the hell it was that was going on beyond the dark purple curtains dividing the stairway from what he suspected to be the more exclusive and expensive part of this place. Thankful that the noises became inaudible once he reached the top of the stairs, he came to a half in front of a door that unlike the other ones in this place didn't look inviting at all. With the ones below, someone had at least made an effort to disguise the cold steel of the habitat. Whoever was behind this door, hadn't bothered to do so, instead opting to add a few more locks and another turian guard.

This kind of paranoia probably came with the job the person behind the door had chosen.

In most cases, being an information dealer on the Citadel meant one of two things. Either you worked for the Shadow Broker, in which case everybody looking to interfere with his business would come after you and either try to turn you, extort you or put a bullet in your head, or you worked for someone who wasn't the Broker, in which case he'd be the one who'd sent someone to do either of or all of those three things to you as well. If it wouldn't pay so good to sell secrets on a station filled with people keen on knowing everything there was to know about someone else, the dealers probably would've stopped doing this a long time ago.

"You here for Jeroth?" the turian asked after he had come to a stop roughly two meters in front of him. Unlike the one down at the entrance or the one guarding the stairway on the first floor, this one didn't even bother to hide the pistol loosely hanging in a holster strapped around his chest or cover up the kinetic barrier generator attached to his belt.

Jeroth.

Morneau didn't fancy himself a cultural expert, on the contrary actually, but he did recognize a batarian-sounding name when he heard one. While the Hegemony's leaders might've issued a call for all of their citizens to leave the Citadel when they cut their ties with the Council, not all batarians had answered that call. Besides most of the C-SEC officers, who's political indoctrination had been broken over the years they had spent working for the Council alongside other species, a bunch of the batarians who had been specifically selected by the Hegemony to represent their people on the Citadel had decided that they liked living in Council Space far more than they liked living on whatever wealthy colony they had originally hailed from. Having read the few reports that had managed to leave batarian space after the curtains had come down on that part of the galaxy in the wake of the Skyllian Blitz, the specialist couldn't blame them one bit.

Between the not-so-subtle infighting leading to political instability, the increasingly more frequent uprisings of the native slave castes, civil unrest, their wounded pride and at times contradicting decisions of leading government officials, things weren't exactly looking bright for the HSA's closest galactic neighbour. While there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Chairman Amon would hold onto his power with everything he still had, there also wasn't a doubt in his mind that it was only a matter of time before influential families and perhaps even entire castes would come looking for their share of the Hegemony before it collapsed under its own, increasing weight.

"That depends. Is he the guy who finds people?" he asked in return, scratching his chin to have an excuse for one of his hands being in a better position in case this turian would decide to try something. If he needed to cover the distance and get in his face, his hands would be no good dangling at his sides.

"For the right price," the guard replied, eyeing him somewhat suspicious. If he hadn't been certain that the small biotic implant in the back of his neck was impossible to see from where the bodyguard was standing, he might've worried about him seeing.

"Then I'm here for Jeroth."

"Good."

Without saying another word to him, the turian nodded and stepped aside, typing in a code and opening the door before gesturing for him to step in.

"This one here wants to see you, boss," the bodyguard declared as he walked into the room in front of Morneau, blocking the specialist's view of the small, dark office. "Says he wants to find someone?"

"Does he now?" a deep, distinctively batarian voice coming from the computer terminal sitting on the lone desk asked.

Alright.

Given the fortifications and the guards, he had expected the guy to actually be here. It had been a long time since someone had gotten him with the old terminal transmission trick.

Point for the batarian.

If he even was one. With a terminal, it wasn't exactly hard to alter your voice to hide your identity. Hell, in their line of work, it was common place to do just that whenever you didn't meet in person.

Whatever.

Live batarian information broker or transmission with a voice modifier, at the moment he couldn't care less if this entire thing was face to face or not. Jeroth wasn't his mission, he was just a means to an end.

"Yes I do," he answered before the turian could think about speaking for him again. "A quarian pilgrim," he added a moment later. "Word has it a couple of hired guns are looking to kill her for a guy named Fist," it was as close of a description as he had and with time running, he couldn't effort to hold any of it back.

"Quarians aren't exactly a common sight on the Citadel these days," the voice replied. "And Fist never had a talent for subtlety." They knew each other? Interesting. "Your information will come at a price. You may now pay it," with that, the turian stepped next to him, a credit transfer program already opened on his omni-tool.

"How do I know you're not scamming me?" he asked casually while typing in the desired sum from one of the sources HSAIS used for the kinds of bribes that it actually intended to pay. At the moment there was no reason for him to burn this source of information. It might come in useful again.

"You're looking for Tali'Zorah nar'Rayya. She arrived on the Citadel by an emergency transport from Eden Prime," so that's how she had gotten the intel that Arterius wanted to get rid off. She had actually been there during his attack. Intersting. "Shortly after boarding the station, she went to visit one of the Shadow Broker's proxies who then helped her hide from Fist's people." Up to this point, the story made sense, if rumors were true, the Broker had his own feud with the Spectre. If the turian wanted someone dead, it was in his interest to keep that person alive. At least until he figured out why the now rogue Spectre was trying to have them killed. If he was lucky, it meant that the quarian had more time than he had initially suspected. If he wasn't, it meant that another clock had just started its race against him. There was only one way to find out. "She's currently hiding in a small bar on Level 39 and staying with the Broker's contact in that area. Look for Ulteshks', that's where you'll find her," he better. Because otherwise, he would have a reason to burn this place after all and considering the paperwork he'd have to fill out to explain how fifty thousand credits had ended up in the hands of a bad con artist, he'd enjoy doing it. "And for the record, I do not scam. I run a legitimate business," he kept it to himself to say that that depended on one's perspective,"and as long as my costumers pay my prize, I always deliver legitimiate information."

They'd see about that.

When the terminal shut down, the light of its screen turning off and as such removing the only light-source in the room, Morneau didn't spent much longer in the brothel than needed, instead quickly making his way to the bar, only stopping to tell his partner where he it was that he was going and being somewhat frustrated when she in return told him the exact same thing he had just paid Jeroth to tell him.

While it wasn't as bad or as embarrassing as falling for a conartist, it sure as hell would add a couple of pages to his report.

Just great.

* * *

 **2156 CE, Citadel, Lower Zakera Wards, Ulteshks'**

The only thing she had wanted was to bring back something worthy of an admiral's daughter, something that would improve her people's lives, something that would serve the Migrant Fleet more than a used ship way out of its prime. As she looked around herself again, Tali cursed under her slightly ragged breath. It wasn't actual exhaustion that was getting to her, it were her nerves. Well, alright, maybe her nerves and her anger at herself. The geth's data core had been too tempting, she should've known this wouldn't end good for her. She just should've stayed on Eden Prime and kept working in the repair workshop until a safer opportunity presented itself, not rush out out into that field and put her knife to the barely functioning trooper.

Stupid.

If she could turn back time, she'd like to think that she would've been smart enough not to tinker with the damaged geth, smart enough not to get involved in whatever this was. The quarians might not have held many ties to the Citadel Council these days but given that she had spent nearly a year in Council Space, it had been impossible not to recognize the voice of Councilor Benezia T'Soni. She might not know what the geth and the turian on the tape had been trying to do to her but it was obvious that it was had been something horrible and something far bigger than her.

Even though she had lacked the foresight of knowing what she'd find on the drive, Tali had been more than smart enough to know that people would be coming for her after she had heard the recording and even though she, like every other pilgrim, had received some self-defense training before being sent out into the galaxy, Tali had also known that she wasn't going to stop the hitmen who were after her. It had been these realisations that had eventually caused her to end up in the rundown bar she was currently hiding in. Instead of making the smart decision and running to the first human patrol she could find back on Eden Prime, Tali had gone to the Citadel and tried to reach out the one person she had figured could protect her from a Spectre.

The Shadow Broker.

In retrospective, that had been her second terrible mistake.

Although she had managed to escape from her pursuers for the first time thanks to the volus, she knew that she was far from safe here. Whether it was the whispers of the turian and batarian near the counter, the suspicious glances two humans threw in the direction of her booth or the couple of salarians who seemed to be focused soley on her, she knew that every second she spent hiding in here could be her last one.

Sighing at the bleakness of this situation for which she was mostly the one responsible, Tali briefly considered running again only to realise that there weren't any alternatives even. If she left, she was dead and if she stayed, she was also very probably going to die eventually, either because the Broker's men decided that they didn't need her after all or because someone would come walking through the door her and put a bullet in her head. Then it'd all be over and seeing how sometimes pilgrims simply disappeared, no one, not even her father, would ever know what had really happened to her. She'd just be another name one the list of quarians who had died trying to prove their worth to the Migrant Fleet, just ano-

As the sound of the locks coming apart behind her sent a shiver through her entire body, the fears forming in her mind coming alive right as she had given thought to them, she tried to subtly lift her omni-tool and ready one of the tech programs stored on it all the while watching a shadow slowly closing in on her booth. Feeling her hands shake as her nerves failed her again, Tali tried to get a hold of herself by telling herself that her father had raised her better than this in an attempt to calm herself. If these were the hitmen from before, she'd at least go down fighting. She could do this. Hit the first one of them with the overload program and try and take his weapon. Then use that against the second one.

It was simple enou-

Before she could even prepare the self-defense overload program she had intended to use, a figure stopped by her booth, standing right next to her, blocking her escape path and terrifying her at the same time. It was a good thing her people were confined to their suits, otherwise her mask, which hid her utterly mortified face, wouldn't have saved her some dignity now that the end was here. She would've liked to say that she was ready to face this but truthfully, she wasn't.

Keelah, how could she?

She was just a pilgrim in way over her hea-

Wait.

Something was wrong here.

Why wasn't the hitman doing anything?

Why was he just standing there?

Why hadn't he tried to kill her yet?

"You're a hard quarian to find, Miss Zorah," a human offered as she watched him casually sit down opposite to her, resting his arms on the headrest of the booth behind him.

All in all, he didn't really look all that different from the humans she had worked with on Eden Prime, following the same general appearance most of his kind seemed to fall in line with. As with most human men who's vehicles she had helped fix in the workshop to earn some money for the rest of her pilgrimage, his hair was short and not quite as dark as that of most quarians and as with some of the humans she had encountered during her stay on the colony, he seemed to be no taller than the average quarian, certainly incapable of seeing eye-to-eye with tall people like the average salarian or turian. "You know that, Miss Zorah?" he added as he turned back around, allowing Tali to notice that unlike just about all of the humans she had met, he only seemed to have a small hint of brown in his otherwise hazel eyes. Other than his outward appearance, the only thing that really stood out to her was the grey fleece jacket he seemed to wear in spite of how uncomfortably warm these parts of the Citadel could get for anyone not wearing an environmental suit and the faintly blue glowing wrist watch he wore on his left hand.

"I am?" she asked, too stunned to even think about how he knew her name.

"Nope," he replied with a small chuckle before looking at watch and pressing a small button at its side a few seconds later, causing the glow to vanish. "You really, really aren't," as he looked around the bar again, Tali wondered who he was and what exactly it was that he wanted from her. By now she doubted that it was her life. If he wanted to kill her, he never would've sat down to begin with.

Was he after the recording?

Should she as-

"The way word on the street goes, you've got something that a lot of people would like to get their hands on," the human said as she looked the way his head was turned, noticing that he had apparently entered a staring contest with the two salarians that had been looking at her ever since she had first entered this place. "Matter of fact, I'm one of them."

That answered her question. If she told him that she had it with her, she knew that he'd attack her and take it. If he was after the recording, he probably knew that didn't need her. The pilgrim quickly considered her next move. The best thing she could do was try and pretend that he had the wrong quarian, no matter how unlikely the chances of that succeeding were.

"I don't know what you're talkin-"

"Whatever it is that you got on Arterius," wait, Arterius? As in Saren Arterius? The Spectre? "If you give it to me now, chances are we can walk out of here before those guys make their move," the human said before nudging his head towards the salarians, who by now had been joined by four other guests of the bar. As the batarian of the group noticed her looking at them and narrowed his two sets of eyes, Tali quickly turned her attention back to the human, who unlike her, hadn't backed down from the unspoken challenge just yet."Time's running, it's your call" he added with a shrug a moment later before turning away from the batarian and looking at her directly.

Again Tali began to think as fast as she could.

Given what had happened these last couple of days, she really, really wanted to just get out of here. Every instinct she had was telling her that staying here would get her killed. But given what she seemed to have stumbled into, she just couldn't shake the thought that the human was only putting up a facade to get the recording. If she agreed to his offer, if she gave him what he wanted, he'd have no reason to uphold his end of the bargain. Now that she thought about it, he might even hand her over to the hitmen to get a cut of the pa-

"Yo, you!" she heard a voice call from the other end of the small bar. "What do you think you're doin' with her?" one of the other humans demanded to know, inevitably drawing the attention of the one sitting across from her. Compared to the stranger, he looked noticeably younger. Unlike the short-cut hair of the one's who's deal she had yet to take, his light-brown hair was long and messy and while he might've been taller, he wasn't nearly as sturdy as most other members of his species. "You got no business bein' here. Piss off!" his stature and apparent age aside, he didn't seem to have much of a problem with leading the charge. As he marched over to their booth, the group that had gathered around him followed.

"Really?" the human opposite to her asked as Tali, now sitting up straight and folding his hands in front of his chest. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're the one who's not old enough to be in a bar."

Keelah.

He'd get them killed, wouldn't he?

This day was getting worse with every minute.

She should've just picked a turian colony. That way she could've eaten their food, gotten to know some members of the sole other dextro-species in the galaxy and avoided this situation all together.

"You just gonna let him call you out like that, man?" the other human of the group, who's skin was noticeably darker than that of the other two, asked angrily.

"Hell no," the other replied as he looked back at his group, receiving a nod from its turian member. Reassured by the gesture, he turned back around and walked all the way up to the booth. "Listen here," he began, leaning onto the desk and pointing his finger at her, "the Broker wants her here. What the Broker wants, he gets. If you know what's good for you, you're gonna say that you're sorry and you're gonna piss off and hope I don't come after you."

"That so?"

"That so."

"Alright," seemingly unimpressed, the stranger turned away from the younger human, making no indication to comply. "So? Do we have a deal?" he asked her as he rolled his head, producing a rather unpleasant popping noise in the process. Without as much of a second of thought, she nodded her reply.

"Great. Let's get out of this dump then," he said as a smile appeared on his face. Rising to his feet and ever so briefly rubbing his neck before staring down the taller, younger human, the dark-haired man seemed to turn into a different person altogether. "You're in my way," he pointed out. Before he had sounded far too casual for her liking but right now, it was his calmness that unnerved her.

"I didn't hear you say sorry yet," the younger human snarled, causing his group to move in closer on them. By now the other five were only a few steps away from them and Tali could practically feel how they became angrier with every word out of the stranger's mouth.

"Fine. Sorry," the human, hers not the tall one, offered with a shrug. "You coming?" he asked, offering her a hand.

When she considered rising to her feet to take it and join him, the younger man shoved the dark-haired one away from the booth and into the direction of the bar counter. As he caught himself on the wooden surface, the barkeeper seemed to take a step back.

"The quarian is staying," the younger one insisted as he got right into the stranger's face, grabbing a hold of his jacket and raising his fist up to his face. "Now piss off before I change my mind," he threatened furiously, looking about ready to kill him then and there.

"Say that again?" the stranger muttered in return.

"I said the quarian sta-"

"No.I caught that. The other part, please."

"I said piss o-"

At first she wasn't entirely sure what had happened which in retrospective was probably owned to the fact that no one in the room had seen it coming before it was too late. In the one moment, the younger human had been standing on his feet, his hand firmly gripping onto the grey jacket of the other man. Then, in the next one, his grip had slipped and he had fallen backwards, hitting the ground like a rock without even attempting to break his own fall. As the other human of the group jumped to the side of his friend, the rest of the Broker's men looked at the stranger in in a mixture of disbelief and anger. They probably had pictured this entire thing to go far different than it currently was.

"Well? Changed your mind yet?" the still standing human asked into the room before the batarian took a step towards him.

"You're fucking dead," the sole four-eyed member of the group called as he clenched his fists.

"Didn't think so," had she grossly misinterpreted human behaviour all this time or did he sound happy?

When the words had left his mouth, everything else happened almost impossibly fast.

In what couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds, at least judging by the time it took one of the salarians to rush towards her and try and pull her form her booth, the batarian charged forward and took a swing at the human only to be sent flying across the room, a wave of purple accompanying the kick that sent him straight into the opposite, the pictures hung from it shattering just as the barkeeper took cover behind his counter in an effort to avoid being hit himself. Then, not a moment after his friend had been sent flying, the turian tried to attack the human, a half-filled bottle being cracked over his plated head and an elbow directed at his left mandible stopping him dead in his tracks. When he went down, the salarian who hadn't been standing next to her found himself at the bad end of the human's assault, dropping somewhat more controlled than the first member of the group but still hitting a nearby table after a punch, this one not carrying a purple biotic glow with it, connected with his jaw. Then, before the acid-green blood had even began pouring from the new injury, the stranger turned his attention to the dark-skinned member of his kind, sending a knee straight into his face just as he tried to leave his companion's side.

Unwilling to just sit by and wait for him to save her from the salarian, Tali decided to try and activate the self-defense overload program in an attempt to fight of her own attacker all the while the injured men of the Broker once more tried to throw themselves at the stranger.

While she brought up the familiar orange overlay, she heard the other salarian scream a few moments after he had tried and failed to grab a hold of the human, the wet crunching sound and the odd angle at which his arm was now bent suggesting that the light armor he had been wearing hadn't helped his bones stand up against whatever lever had been used against them. Just as she managed to select the program in spite of the uninjured salarian rapidly getting a better hold of her, Tali saw that the turian was trying to dig his talons, which were more than sharp enough to hurt a human wearing nothing but plain regular clothes, in the stranger's throat. But instead of drawing blood, he only found air and pain after his intended target dodged at the last moment, leading to him slashing one of the metal grids separating the booths from each other instead. Stunned by his hand meeting far more resistant than expected, the turian barely had time to recover before the human grabbed a hold of the side of his face and smashed it into the wall, the visible dent left in the central bar of the grid revealing how much force had been behind the quick move.

Then, after waving the set of hand motions required to set off the overload program a mere moment before the salarian would've grabbed her other hand, a brief impulse of electricity surged from her omni-tool, the shock it carried causing her attacker's muscles to lock up, the suddenness of his full weight collapsing on her throwing her off balance as well and causing her to stumble backwards into the booth, the sight of whatever was going to happen to the dark-skinned human now that he had decided to throw another punch being lost to her forgetting what happened to muscles, or a person as a matter of fact, when they were hit with an intense pulse of electricity.

Maybe she should invest in a drone for the next time this happened?

It'd help her save face and put her in less danger at the same time.

She'd get on that as soon as she got out of here.

"You good over there, Tali?" the stranger called through the bar as she pried the salarian's hands off of her wrist before trying to shove the tall and to her dismay, heavier unconscious amphibian off of her. Grunting her reply as she awkwardly managed to move the salarian just enough for her to squeeze out, hitting his head against the table in the process, Tali, or rather the strange feeling in her head, decided that getting up could wait another minute or so. "I know what you're thinking about doing right now, man" she heard him say, unsure what exactly he was talking about, "but don't. You and I both know you'll be in just as much trouble as we if you call C-SEC right now. They'll want to know why the Broker chose your place and they're probably gonna go the mile to figure it out. So why don't you put down that omni-tool and we go our separate ways?"

Right.

He was talking to the barkeeper.

"Alright. Fine. Just leave. I don't want to see you or the quarian anywhere near this place ever again," a high-pitched voice replied in a pace only a salarian could manage while remaining understandable. "She's way too much trouble anyway."

As Tali looked at him and then at the bar and the six unconscious figures scattered around the destroyed room, she offered an apologetic smile that he'd never see thanks to the mirrored mask separating her face from the rest of the world. The place was damaged, badly. He'd be lucky if he could fix any of this without drowning himself in debt or ending up on the bad side of the Shadow Broker, a scenario that had become likely from the moment that he had been spared from the beat down.

"You won't," the human said as the hand that had been reaching for something behind his back relaxed, once more becoming visible as he dropped it to his side. "Come on. Let's go," he added before walking past her and pulling her with him.

Throwing a final glance at the remnants of a fight that had at best lasted half a minute, Tali 'followed' the stranger out of the bar and into Zakera's Lower Wards, the question of who exactly he was still unanswered. As they walked in silence for a few minutes, the young pilgrim began to wonder where exactly they were going and had been about to ask just that right before the human slowed down and pulled her into a narrow alleyway off of the central path of the market.

"Alright. Looks like we're in the clear," he said as he eyed the crowd they had just left. "You can give me the data now. Just put it on there and we're square," he explained while handing her a small black hard drive.

Right.

That had been why he had helped her in the first place.

He had been here for the recording she had on her.

"It's not data, it's an audio recording," she found herself stuttering ever so slightly, not exactly willing to admit to herself that she was afraid of the uncertainty of what would happen next. Quickly pulling the data off her omni-tool and onto the storage device, she was all too eager to hand it off to him. She could've made a copy but honestly, she didn't want anything else to do with it now that she had gotten a taste of what it meant to hold onto it. A Spectre and the geth holding a councilor hostage? She now knew better than to be part of that equation. The trouble it'd bring her and the fleet in case she brought it back simply wasn't worth it, not by a long shot. "And it will get you in a lot of trouble," she decided to add the warning in spite of being certain that he wouldn't care.

"I'm counting on it," he replied just as she finished the upload.

If he wanted to leap into this mess so readily, it wasn't up to her to stop him.

Not that she actually thought that she could stop him given what she had just seen.

"Here. Take it. It's all there, every word they said," she muttered as she handed the drive back. As he grabbed it and stuffed it into the pocket he had originally taken it from, Tali was about to ask him what they'd do now when the human turned on his feet and started to walk away.

"Where are we going now?" she asked after following him back to the market and catching up to him.

"We?" he asked while keeping his eyes up ahead, adding to her confusion.

"You said if I gave you the recording, we'd walk out of here," she clarified, "so where are we going now?"

"Our seperate ways?" the human offered as she looked at him, her disbelief hidden by a layer of reinforced purple glass. This definitely hadn't been their arrangement, at least not as far as she was concerned.

"You sai-"

"We walked out of the bar, didn't we? And you gave me the recording, didn't you?" he interrupted her.

"Yes but-"

"Sorry but no buts," she was slowly getting tired of being cut off. "We're done here, our deal is over. We both held up our ends and now we split."

"I thought.-"

"Alright, listen," the bosh'tet might've saved her less than five minutes ago but if he did that again, she'd seriously consider using the overload program on him. Even at the risk of it backfiring again and her having to shove him off her like the salarian, it'd be worth it. She didn't need to be chastised, corrected or let alone cut off. She wasn't a child, not anymore. "You can't come with me and I can't go wherever you go from here. I've got a job to do and you need to get the hell out of dodge and hide from Arterius' thugs. They don't know that you no longer have the recording and they sure as well won't care when they find out. The best thing you can do," he said while coming to a hold, putting his hand in front of her so she'd do the same before pointing at one of the close-by rapid transit stations, "is to get out of here while you still can," as he briefly looked at her, his greenish-brown eyes seemingly seeing through her mask and somehow making eye contact with her own solely based on their faint glow, "I know this isn't what you though would happen but that's the way it has to go. My mission comes first and right now you're not it," he seemed to linger for a moment before again picking up his step. "I've got to get going and so do you," she heard him mutter. "Take care."

With that the human, who had saved her and who's name she had never asked for, left her behind, effectively putting her in the same spot she had been in before he had shown up, the sole exception being that she didn't even have the recording left to possibly bargain with her assailants if, no, not if, when they caught up with her.

If her mind hadn't been split between deciding whether or not to make a run for the closest transport or try and talk to C-SEC, who had a rather bad history of helping quarian pilgrims in need, she might've laughed at the irony of the human for turning from the one who had just saved her to the one who had now doomed her in less than a minute or cursed herself for believing he'd actually try and help her for longer than it'd benefit him.

But since it was split, Tali did the one thing she had been doing ever since Eden Prime.

She ran.

* * *

 **6\. January 2415 AD, Citadel, Lower Zakera Wards**

Counter-terrorism operations, urban and asymmetrical warfare, prolonged reconnaissance and sabotage missions deep behind enemy lines. Marksmanship, demolitions, combat diving, airborne and spaceborne assault and zero-g combat. Physical and mental endurance, a natural talent for leadership and unwavering resolve. All of these were skills or traits that a soldier had to become proficient in to successfully complete ICT and join the scarce ranks of the Naval Special Operations Command by becoming an N7 operative like herself.

All of these were things that Shepard knew she was good at, things she knew she could do anytime and anywhere.

Interrogations, covert operations and other covert activities however were another story.

While every N7 received a basic rundown of those fields in Rio as part of the asymmetrical warfare course they all had to complete in order to advance to the sixth step of the program, it was hardly their expertise. By their very nature, the navy's special forces were meant to fight at the fronts of every conflict and assit the corps and selected army formations with pushing on the attack, fighting the hardest battles or getting the most difficult jobs done as fast and clean as possible.

Needlessly to say, operating far away from any actual conflict to achieve a target that had nothing to do with leveraging some kind of strategic or tactical advantage over an enemy force was uncharted territory for the commander in spite of this being one of the bigger parts of the position she was still being assessed for as far as Ambassador Udina was concerned. While Captain Anderson had at least had an experienced Spectre with him from whom he could learn during his assessment, who incidentally happened to be the same Spectre who's trail she had now been ordered to follow, the only company she had with her were two marines who were just as unfamiliar with this kind of assignment as Emily herself. While she trusted them to have her back in a fight, Shepard knew that they wouldn't be able to make up for the problem she was about to face.

Additionally, as if being put way outside of her area of expertise wasn't enough, there were also a number of other things that she had to worried about right now. Namely the fact that there were still the unanswered questions as to what the hell the beacon had done to her, what the hell was going on with Captain Anderson and what the hell the until recently unknown black-ops division of the HSA, Cerberus, had to do with all of it. Even though she felt like her life was currently moving on the fast-lane with new shocking events having happened every few hours since she had woken up, she hadn't forgotten about her conversation with the leader of the group, Director Harper nor the 'message' he seemed to think the beacon had given to her. How could she? The prospect of a long-gone people trying to tell her something of likely incredible importance was probably the biggest responsibility she'd ever carry.

If she'd spent more time thinking about it, it'd probably also be sufficiently terrifying.

Hence, she didn't, instead trying finding some kind of comfort in the N7s' motto.

No matter the obstacles, no matter the opposition.

She'd get the job done.

Considering the stakes she simply had to.

The people looking for answers as to why Arterius had attacked Eden Prime, the Council, Udina and Anderson, they were all counting on her to do was no way that she was going to let fear jeopardize the trust they were putting into her. Although it was far from what she was used to doing, Udina's orders to track down Arterius' proxy and figure out what he knew about the attack were still a mission.

And being an N7, Emily always finished her missions. Come hell or high water.

"You gotta wonder though, how did the guy manage to turn one of the Broker's agents?" she heard Williams ask Alenko who had been less than vocal ever since they had gotten to the Zakera Wards. "Turning your back on the Shadow Broker is about the quickest you can die on the Citadel."

"From what the ambassador told me, Fist's loyalty goes to whoever's currently putting a gun to his head," she replied herself when the biotic lieutenant offered only a shrug.

"Spineless coward then," the gunnery sergeant shrugged. "Should be easy enough to get someone like him to talk."

"Don't underestimate this," Alenko finally spoke up. "We'll have to get to him first.

"Spineless cowards usually don't fight all that well," Williams replied.

"Fist isn't the one we'll have to fight though," the lieutenant countered correctly. People like Fist didn't get their hands dirty themselves. They hired people to do that for them. "It's his thugs we have to worry about. They might not have a legal license but they'll definitely be packing some heat."

Although the Cítadel might have been seen as one of the safest places in the galaxy, it, like every other place with a working spaceport and some importance, wasn't immune to the crime of smuggling. While patrols, raids and long-term Spectre operations like the one Arterius had become known for might've kept large illegal weapons shipments off the station, the couldn't stop the smaller, legal ones delivering to the shops that could sell guns and armor on the Citadel from losing a few dozen boxes every now and again. From there on out, it only took a few hidden compartments, the right kind of driver and one bad C-SEC officer until those boxes ended up in the hands of people like Fist.

"Speaking off packing some heat," she muttered as she turned the corner of the broad pathway they had been following to 'Chora's Den', the club Fist apparently called his home, and spotted a tall krogan covered in armor just as red as his cracked, scarred head plate standing opposite to a squad of heavily armored C-SEC officers, who looked both parts concerned and annoyed.

"You know how this goes Wrex. Bounty hunter or not, you can't bring any of your guns past the docks, let alone all the way down here. Do all of us a favour and come quietly."

"Heh," she heard the krogan chuckle as he folded his arms. "Do yourself a favour and ask your Executor if he things that you detaining me is a good idea. Knowing him, he kept the scar I gave to him the last time he tried."

"No one's talking about detaining you, Urdnot," the blonde human C-SEC officer, who had yet to actually spot the marines and Shepard because his back was turned to them, offered "We'll just escort you back to the docks and blame customs for screwing things up. That way we won't have to fill out all the paper work and you won't get charged with assault of a C-SEC officer," there was a short break in the human's sentence as the krogan let out another amused grunt. "Again."

"Tell you what, Bailey. I might take you up on that offer when I'm done with my contract," the scarred, red-plated krogan replied with a shrug. "In the meantime, you could take care of those guys," he said while pointing his hand right at her. "They look like you might just be able to stop them."

"Wrex if you think I'll fall for tha-" the officer had been about to say before the turian officer, who had actually turned around, poked him in the shoulder. "Oh you gotta be kidding me," he sighed after spotting them himself. "Where the hell do you think you're going with those, army? Didn't your CO tell you that you have to leave them on your ship?"

"It's navy actually," the commander corrected dryly before mirroring the krogan and folding her arms. "And I think that we're going exactly where I was ordered to go by Ambassador Udina," she added, drawing a visible reaction from the man. "Any more questions?"

"Jesus fucking christ," the blonde man muttered. "This day just keeps getting better," he added before turning to the turian next to him. "Well? Care to check if any of that's actually true?"

"Of course. Right away, Sir."

"God damn shinie," considering the reaction, Emily simply assumed that the turian was somewhat new to the job.

It definitely would explain the nickname.

"If there is any conformation of her statement being true, it didn't reach our precinct yet, Sir," the turian replied a moment after closing his omni-tool.

"That's a no to your story then," the older officer frowned before putting his hand on the butt of his pistol, now evidently suspicious of them. "Wanna explain that again differently?"

"Considering my assignment," she replied while raising her hands in a deescalating manour. Although she didn't actually think that either the C-SEC officers, her own companions or the amused looking krogan would open fire, she'd rather be more cautious. "That's to be expected," the blonde man raised an eyebrow at that. "My mission is related to a Spectre. I'm supposed to question the owner of Chora's Den, " that's all she was going to say to that for now.

"Do you think I'm buying any of thi-"

"You're here to kill Fist as well?" the large krogan, 'Wrex' if she wasn't mistaken, suddenly asked, his raspy chuckle causing both C-SEC officers to turn around again. She couldn't exactly blame them for being a bit jumpy around someone as big as him. Even by krogan standards, the red-plated alien looked intimidating, the dozens of scars visible on his face alone suggesting that a lot of people had tried and failed to kill him. "Get in line. I was here first," he added not a moment later, his large black and red eyes locking with her own, small green ones.

A bounty hunter.

That explained a lot.

Especially the guns.

"No one's killing anyone," the frustrated human C-SEC officer sighed. "Especially not you," he added while pointing at Shepard herself. "The last thing we need right now is for HSA personal to shoot up the Citadel during shoreleave."

"I'm not on shoreleave and I'm not here to kill Fist or anyone el-" the commander was about to continue when she noticed three figures, two turian, the other either a human, batarian or asari, slip out of the building in front of them, the boxy objects in their hands and the fact that they were actively taking cover giving her just enough time to react. "Get down!" she called the moment she connected th dots.

Luckily for them, the C-SEC officers listened to her warning just as much as Alenko and Williams, all four of them diving behind the nearest pieces of cover just in time to avoid the hail of sand-grain sized rounds now pouring down right where they had just been standing. The only one of them who hadn't been fast enough to get behind one of the roughly chest-high information boards decorating this particular part of the walkway leading to Chora's Den had been the krogan, Wrex. But judging by the fact that he was casually walking towards a nearby wall, firing a pistol the size of a small shotgun at their attackers all the while their projectiles harmlessly bounced of a purple field surrounding the krogan, the few seconds more it had taken him to get clear hadn't made all that much of a difference to him.

"Call for back-up!" the more experienced officer called as Shepard gestured for Alenko and Williams to prepare himself. Their enemy might've had the better position but between the krogan and their own biotic, they wouldn't be able to maintain their superior position for much longer. Eventually their weapons would overheat after the biotic had drawn their fire and then the NCO and the commander would be able to move on them.

"When we start moving, cover us," she called to the C-SEC officers and into the general direction of the krogan.

In a weird way, she was glad that her mission was turning out like this.

This was what she was good at.

Fighting.

"You ready, Lieutenant?" she asked the man next to her as a bullet found their way through the board, the small hole it managed to punch through the metal right between her and the biotic not really bothering either of them.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Alright. Go."

As a purple field embraced him, Alenko rose without hesitation, being ready to draw their fire in spite of the risk of their enemy using a phasic mod capable of ripping right through his barriers. Instilled into him or not, that was the kind of courage that never seized to amaze Emily. Briefly holding her breath as the first rounds bounced off of the reinforced mass effect field, she was more than relieved to see her plan not only work but also transmit to the krogan who decided to join Alenko in exhausting their enemy's ammunition. With two biotics drawing their fire, it didn't take long for her plan to work, the first, second and third treacherously visible streams of heat shooting from the guns of their attackers being the only signal she and Williams needed to begin moving. As they cleared the mostly empty portion between them and the small bridge their three enemies were hiding on under the accurate fire of Alenko's assault rifle, the two C-SEC officers sidearm's and the krogan's 'pistol, Shepard didn't need more than a glance of her first target before she dropped it, a streak of blue shooting out from the small portion of the turian's neck she had spotted and subsequently hit with her SR-9. After displaying the lethal accuracy she had learned as an N7 for all to see, the next enemy fell by the hands of the marine next to her. Knowing that they'd flank his position soon, the other turian tried to rise and stop them only to be cut down by the gunnery sergeant, a burst to his chest, which only seemed to be covered in light armor hidden beneath his normal clothes, ending his life.

That left just one.

Bracing her rifle as she got close to the bridge, she was ready to squeeze the trigger of her rifle right until she saw the woman drop her gun.

"Please! I surre-" she tried to call while getting up, an action that proved lethal when her head exploded in a messy fashion not a second later. Turning to the source of the shot to see who had just shot the unarmed man, she wasn't exactly surprised to stare at the still smoking gun in the hand of the krogan.

"What?" he asked as his eyes narrowed. "She tried to kill us. She had it coming."

"She tried to surrender."

"Should've thought about that before then," Wrex snorted before holstering his gun. "Still kicking, Bailey?" the krogan called back.

"Yeah," 'Bailey' replied as he, the apparently injured turian leaning on him and Alenko joined them. "Shinie got hit though."

"It's fine. I can still fi-"

"Bullshit. You're out of here the moment back-up shows up," the C-SEC officer grumbled, shutting him down. "Those were Fist's guys. The bastard tried to have us killed." She could agree with that assessment. As the blonde human turned to Wrex, who didn't seem to be the least bit concerned with killing an unarmed woman, Shepard didn't exactly like the expression on his face. "You still planning to go after him?" he asked the krogan.

"A bounty's a bounty," Wrex shrugged as Alenko reached them, looking somewhat more exhausted than before. It was probably the strain of using his biotics that had gotten to him. Trained or not, humans weren't meant to use that power and it showed whenever they did.

"Good. Hurry up and make him pay for this," he said before adjusting his grip of the increasingly weaker growing turian and walking into the direction from which the blaring sirens of patrol cars were quickly growing on them.

"Heh. With pleasure."

* * *

 _Codex: Quarian Pilgrimage_

 _First instated out of the necessity of the young and able-bodied going out to search for crucial supplies in the early days of the Migrant Fleet, the Pilgrimage is one of the few pieces of relatively new quarian culture. Originally considered to be an act of blind desperation by the military government of the fleet, the tradition slowly turned into more of a cultural practice after the last remnants of quarian society managed to claw their way back from the brink of extinction they had been balancing on in the early decades following the Geth War. Although the fleet still somewhat relies on their young adults to bring back things like scavenged ships, weapons or at times even mining rights, the times when each pilgrim knew that the failure of their quest could potentially doom hundreds of their own to a cold death in the vacuum of space are long gone._

 _Ever since being instated, the Pilgrimage slowly shifted from simply being about the survival of their kin to a right of passage amongst young quarians. Instead of bringing something back that could be used to replace a damaged ship or at least finding something to slow down its inevitable doom, the modern Pilgrimage consists of the pilgrims leaving their birth ship and trying to find a new crew to become part of by finding something the captain of their desired ship could consider useful. Should they succeed, they may join the ship and are granted the privilege of exchanging the 'nar', child of, in their name with a 'vas', crew of, and the rights and responsibilities, for examlpe the right to have a child and the duty to permanently fulfill a role on their new vessel and die for it if need be, this change of social status brings with it._

 _Although seen as a significant part of modern quarian culture due to giving young quarians the opportunity to see the galaxy they'll only travel through as part of the fleet upon completing their pilgrimage, criticism of the practice has been raised by the Conclave, the civilian part of the quarian emergency government that has been in power ever since their exodus from Rannoch. Arguing that a not-ignorable number of pilgrims never return from this socially enforced right of passage due to either inexperience, accidents or organized crime specifically targeting them, the Pilgrimage has at times been described as a twisted form of population culling by the elements most opposed to the admiralty that first ordered pilgrims to leave the fleet in search of much needed resources. Whether it be pirates, slavers, drug-runners, traffickers or, rarely, the prospect of a better life outside of the fleet, somewhere between three to seven percent of young quarian adults embarking on the Pilgrimage never return home._

 _Although technically having cut ties with the Citadel Council over two hundred years ago, it should be noted that quarian pilgrims are allowed to travel freely among council space, a privilege usually reserved to members Council species or associates._

* * *

 **A/N: And with that, the first part of the Citadel stuff begins.**

 **Obviously next up will be Fist and Tali running into Shepard.**

 **Also less obviously, Haugen and Redford will very probably make it into the next chapter, really setting off their respective arks (which as you might have guessed won't be as 'connected' as Morneau's and Shepard's are going to be right now. Wait. Did I say that out loud? Ups.)**

 **Now to the chapter.**

 **First off, in case anyone doesn't like Tali's portrayal. Welp. This is how its gonna start out. In ME 1 she's literally barely an adult. No way the person you talk to in the cutscenes fights like the one you see in the game. That just doesn't happen.**

 **Of course she is going to grow into being that person, eventually. But for now, this is Semper Vigilo's Tali.**

 **Now.**

 **I actually wrote this down way earler because I feel like SOMEONE is bound to bring it up if I don't get ahead of it.**

 **Don't read too much into the interaction she had with Morneau.**

 **This isn't meant to be some kind of weird shiptease or rescue romance.**

 **On the contraty actually.**

 **If that shit happened to you, you'd kind of start disliking that person a whole lot.**

 **Moving on.** **I decided to write this scene like that not only because he's still the Paragade background and had no reason to actually pledge his life to protect Tali, but also because it adressed what usually happens to the people we saw interact with Section 13 earlier in the story. A lot of them are just left to their own devices after our heroes, be they Shepard's dad or Redford or another specialist, got what they needed from them. So this is kind of a little role reversal there. Instead of the whole 'mission accomplished, moving on', we get to see what it's like to just be a 'means to an end' so to speak.**

 **I found that interesting, at least while I wrote it.**

 **Also.. we had a bit of action this time.**

 **Also.. I kind of couldn't help myself with leaning Tali's scene onto 'Manners Maketh Man' in Kingsman. Originally, I didn't even plan for it to go down like that but when I decided to set it in a bar and set it from the perspective of a normal person... it just kind of worked.**

 **Consider it... an inspiration!**

 **Yay!**

 **For the record we're at 426 reviews, 655 favorites and 753 follows.**

 **Nice.**

 **I wonder when we're gonna hit 700 and 800 respectivly.**

 **Considering my pace between chapters slowed down somewhat, it's probably gonna take some time.**

 **Anyway.**

 **Let me know what you think.**

 **See you around next time.**


	51. Clubs and Clinics

**Chapter 51. Clubs and Clinics**

* * *

 **6\. January 2415 AD, Citadel, Lower Zakera Wards**

Even though he had picked their side during the ambush and proven his worth in the ensuing fight, Wrex' was turning into more of a liability with every step he took towards the entrance of the club. Just like her, the krogan was after Saren's middleman but unlike her, he didn't plan to do a lot of talking, at least not judging by the shotgun clutched in his hands.

"If he gets to Fist, the guy's as good as dead, Commander," Alenko said to her right as Emily kept her eyes on the large krogan marching in front of them. If his stature alone hadn't been intimidating enough, the determination with which he headed for Chora's Den certainly was.

"I know," she muttered through her teeth while quickening her pace to keep up with his larger steps. 'Bad' certainly wasn't enough to describe where this was going.

"Say the word and I put him down, Ma'am," the gunnery sergeant offered more quietly from her left, presenting her with what might've been the worst idea she had heard the entire day. It wasn't that she doubted the marine's ability to hit a moving target, it was that she doubted her rifle's ability to get through the krogan's shields, biotic barriers, armor and thick back before he managed to turn around and fire his shotgun at them.

"Out of question," she shot Williams down. "You won't get him before he one of gets us." Like she had expected, the NCO took it like a professional, merely nodding her reply.

As she briefly shot a glance towards the entrance of the club, noting the krogan bouncer and line in front of it, the N7 was both relieved for the latter and disappointed of the former when all of them decided to equally step out of Wrex's way. She wasn't exactly sure why she had hoped that the bouncer might stop the bounty hunter but judging by his lack of armor and weapons and his smaller statue and considering how little he was probably being payed for standing in the same spot all day, she couldn't exactly blame him for not getting in between Wrex and the club.

"What do we do if he starts shooting, Ma'am?" Alenko asked as they passed the line of people still looking the way the big red krogan had gone. As she walked by the bouncer, the look he gave them already told her that he wouldn't try to stop them either.

"As long as its only at the bad guys," she replied all the while flicking off the safety of her Valkyrie and stepping through the semi-transparent door of Chora's Den, "we do nothing. This isn't a fight we want to pick, not right now. Right now we just try and beat him to Fist," Emily finished as she adjusted the grip on her rifle before spinning around the entrance, almost stumbling over the already unconscious and bleeding human lying in her way. If she had to take a guess, he had probably been less smart about this entire thing than the bouncer. Stepping over him a mere moment before hearing Wrex's shout from within the large, circular area making up most of Chora's Den, she decided to listen to her instincts when they told her to take cover, a decision that turned out to be a good one when the first shot left the barrel of the bounty hunter's shotgun, provoking a number of armed guards to begin shooting their way. "Only engage him if he turns on the civies," she managed to call to the two marines as all hell broke loose with most guests fleeing from the bluish interior of the club and coming directly their way, making it nearly impossible for her to get a clear shot at the few people who had now revealed themselves to be hired guns.

Not that the krogan needed her help either way.

As she tried to align her Valkyrie with the turian taking up position at the circular door leading to an area that looked like it was usually of limits to the club's costumers, she saw Wrex literally charge into another one of the humans that had chosen to stay and fight. When the krogan collided with him, the closest comparison she could come up with was watching a traffic accident between a small truck and a pedestrian. While the human went limp and flew across the room, the krogan bounty hunter simply kept going, rushing past the circular bar and dance floor and towards the private dance tables, unbothered by the few bits of inaccurate gunfire the turian in his way managed to get off before being subjected to the same treatment.

"He's just going straight through them!" the N7 heard Williams call a few seconds before a burst of small rounds punched in the ground between them.

"At this rate, Fist won't be around much longer," Alenko added before sending a ripple of purple into the general direction of a shooter that had noticed their presence.

She could agree with the lieutenant's assessment. Wrex wasn't going to be stopped. At least not by these thugs.

Taking a single breath before throwing herself out of cover, she felt the adrenaline flow through her as she made her decision to follow the krogan's charge. After dispatching a salarian aiming a submachine gun at her from the second floor of the club before he managed to get a single shot off, Shepard moved, trusting that her companions would follow her much like her fellow N7's would. Judging by the two pairs of footsteps behind her, they did. Without turning around to confirm her believe, Emily kept going, silently noting that some guests hadn't gotten out of the club in time as she passed a pair of asari dancers hunkered down beneath a table, terrified but seemingly uninjured.

If Fist and the fact that she was exposed and being shot at right now hadn't already been enough to motivate her to catch up with krogan inside the backstage area, the knowledge that she was the reason these people were caught in the crossfire certainly was. Running the way Wrex had cleaved for them, the commander simply assumed that the reason her shields had stopped taking hits was because one of her companions had managed to pin or better yet dispatch that particular shooter, far too occupied with the task at hand to notice that neither of them had actually been in any position to do so. Only when she and the marines reached the backstage area, which unlike the rest of Chora's Den hadn't been decorated to hide the metallic structure the club was a part of, did she pick up the last, muffled sound of a pistol being fired somewhere back the way she had come.

Not that it had mattered much.

Much like her brief rush of adrenaline, the realisation became lost the moment Emily understood what kind of situation she had just stumbled into.

As she stared at Wrex's armored back and then at the three people standing opposite to the krogan, two humans only clad in working overalls, the commander was surprised to see that the krogan had stopped at all considering the pistols they were shakingly pointing at him. His previous execution of the merc that had attacked them hadn't exactly given her the impression that he indulged in the concept of mercy. Then again, maybe these guys hadn't actually tried to kill him. They didn't look like real guards and judging by the crates stacked in the room, they probably were nothing but warehouse workers that had grabbed the guns in hopes of defending themselves from the unknown attacker that had turned out to be a reptile nearly two heads taller than them.

"I- I, I said stay back!" one of the workers stuttered, his index finger twitching dangerously close to the trigger.

"Heh. Make me," the krogan replied amused. Was it that what had kept them alive up to now? The fact that their evident fear amused the shotgun-bearing krogan?

She shook her head.

Mercy or amusement, right now it was all the same. The only thing that counted right now was that she'd make sure Wrex wouldn't kill them as well. She had already watched him execute one defenseless person, there was no way that number would climb to three today. Pistols or not, these guys weren't a danger to them, hence there was no need for them to die for Fist or at all.

"Alright. Everyone take a breath," Emily said while slowly lowering her gun and walking up to Wrex, an action neither of the two marines seemed to repeat in the beginning. Good. She might need them to get her out of this if it went south. "There's no need for you to get hurt because of Fist," she said. Judging by the expressions on their faces, she had been right to assume that their loyalty to her target wasn't exactly written in stone. As she quickly glanced at Wrex, seeing his shotgun still pressed tightly to his shoulder, she considered and then immediately dismissed the idea of putting a hand on it and guiding it towards the ground. That'd probably just piss him off and remove whatever mercy or amusement was keeping him from killing these two. "Just drop the guns and walk away." There it was, the brief look shared between the two that was giving her the hope that she'd succeed. "Alright?"

"Alrigh-" the other worker began only to cut himself off, his eyes widening in more surprise. "Woah! Don't come any closer! I- I'll shoot" he called. For a split second, she had assumed that one of her marines had moved and jeopardized her attempt at talking them down but after taking the risk and turning her back on the workers for just a second to figure out what had happened, an action Wrex luckily refused to take and thus keeping them in check, Emily realised that Williams and Alenko had in fact moved backwards, going further away from the workers and turning their attention to the new arrival to the warehouse.

"No you won't," the dark-haired man replied before looking at Williams, "and neither will you," he added, lowering his own pistol, a SIS-8 that in spite of its logical age looked almost perfectly new.

"How sure about that are you?" the gunnery sergeant replied while staring him down, his lack of obvious protection and reinforcements being a direct contradiction to his confidence.

"Pretty sure considering I'm on your side and all," watching Williams' finger slide closer to the trigger guard of her Valkyrie, Shepard found herself agreeing with the NCO's skepticism. Considering the stakes, Udina would've told them about more HSA personal coming their way and considering that C-SEC had been caught just as offguard by the attack outside of the club, the chances of this guy being an undercover cop were even lower.

"Got any proof of that?" she asked, deciding to handle this herself as well. Even though Eden Prime, the ambush and this fight had given Williams and Alenko enough time to prove themselves as reliable in a fight, Shepard didn't quite trust their situation defusing skills just yet, especially not with someone who seemed to be this casual about two people pointing assault rifles at him. And even though she didn't buy the story yet, she wasn't going to risk a friendly fire incident.

"I think I might just do," the man shrugged before placing his one hand on the sleeve of his jacket, an action that seemed to make the stoic Alenko himself somewhat jumpy as well. As he slowly pulled up the fabric, revealing a distinctively bluish glowing watch she recognized from a hundred separate occasions, it took Emily a second to realise that neither of her companions had access to her memories and the proof they carried.

"What the hell's that supposed to b-"

"It's fine," she said abruptly. "He's with us. Lower your weapons."

"Not sure I'm following, Commander," Williams muttered, complying with her orders in spite of evidently being confused.

"Well, you won't have to," the man replied before the N7 could offer another explanation, subtely telling her to keep her realisation to herself. "Not for now at least."

Section 13.

Why in god's name was a specialist here?

Scratch that.

She could figure out that answer on her own.

Why was a specialist coming after Fist without Udina telling her about it? She was an N7. Her security clearance was high enough to know when HSAIS deployed one of its field agents in her area of operation. She might not be cleared to know what was going on but she sure as hell was cleared to be told that something was going down precisely to avoid encounters like this one.

"I think you were about to tell them to get out of here before I showed up?" the specialist asked before nudging his head back at Fist's workers who's continued presence had been shoved into a semi-conscious corner of the N7's mind due to her knowing that they weren't going to be a threat as long as Wrex was around.

Turning back around to see the surprisingly patient krogan be right where she had mentally placed him this entire time, Shepard wasn't surprised to see the workers still armed. With the specialist's arrival throwing them off, she hadn't expected them to comply with her earlier offer.

"Go," she said, this time more urgently, not wanting to count on the krogan's patience for longer than absolutely necessary. "Now!" she added louder after the two hadn't immediately done what she had told them to do. 'Encouraged' by both her change of tone and a deep grunt from the krogan, the two finally did just that, tossing away their weapons and quickly rushing out of the storage room, blowing past the specialist in the process.

"Don't you think hiring a krogan is a bit overkill for some thugs, Commander?" he asked as he moved past the confused Williams and still silent Alenko, first mustering Wrex and then herself, allowing Emily to get a better look at him as well. If it hadn't been for the gun in his hands, he easily could've passed as just another guest of this place. Besides the hint of hazel in his eyes, the specialist reminded her of what she'd think of if she had to try and picture the average human, which probably added to the fact that he looked like the kind of person you walked past in a crowd and forgot about five seconds after losing sight of him. He wasn't tall or short and he wasn't attractive or ugly. He just looked like a mix of half the people you saw everywhere a sizeable group of humans lived. Given what she knew about his job, which was either a lot or very little depending on how much of the truth N7s were actually told these days, that averageness probably came in more than useful.

"I didn't hire him," Shepard said as she started walking to the next door before Wrex could beat her to it. "He's after Fist as well."

"To do what?" the specialist asked as he followed her across the room, once more raising his SIS-8 to his chest.

"Kill him from what I understand," she replied while preparing to open the next semi-transparent door in front of them. "He's a bounty hunter. The Broker hired him to collect Fist's."

"The Broker you say?" the specialist raised an eyebrow while waiting for her to make her move.

"Yes. At least that's what he told C-SEC when we ran into them," she shrugged in return. "I don't see why he'd lie about it."

"I do but that's beside the point right now. Think we can count on him?"

"Well, he's been helpful up to now."

"For the record, he's standing next to you," Wrex interrupted them dryly as he stepped up between them, feeling no need to get out of the soon-to-be exposed doorway. "Also, he still plans to collect his bounty."

"Right," the specialist nodded. "Think I can talk to Fist before you ice him?"

"Hmm," the krogan grunted. "For the right prize."

"Works for me. Already paid one crook today, might as well make it two."

"Crook?" he sounded almost offended.

"Outlaw, thug, lovable renegade. Whatever. If you let me talk to him before he dies, you'll get a bonus to your bounty. Deal?"

No.

This was her mission and she wasn't going to let it get hijacked by some morally questionable agreement struck between two people she had just met. Ignoring the fact that the trade he was proposing went against several kinds of HSA laws regarding the treatment of prisoners, which Fist would become the moment she got her hands on him, the idea didn't exactly conform with her own set of orders.

"I don't think so. My orders are to bring in Fist. No one's going to kill him," she countered, earning herself the attention of the krogan.

"The Broker needs him to be dead before he pays," he said after a moment of silence."So I think I'll to do just that. If you don't like it, walk away."

"No you won't." As his eyes narrowed, Shepard considered if she should've given Williams the all clear to put him down after all. It certainly would've solved this situation. Then again, besides the obvious issue of him possibly killing one of her team members, shooting someone who was fighting on your side in the back didn't exactly fly well with her. If she had to take him out, she'd at least have the decency to do it face-to-face and the common sense to do it when he was the least dangerous and not packing a shotgun that'd probably break her arm if she tried to use it.

"I won't?" Wrex nudged his head, a small smirk spreading across his face and offering his challenge to her.

"You won't."

"Come on. Don't be stupid, Shepard," the specialist sighed. Wait. How did he know her name? Could it be that he knew he- No. No way. He probably had just pulled her records because unlike her, he had probably been told about the other HSA forces following his target.

"The only reason you're supposed to bring Fist in is so that he can be interrogated. Once he gives up his boss, we've got no reason to keep him around. Might as well cut him loose and give the big guy his chance to collect his bounty."

She wasn't an expert. On the contrary actually. As previously established this mission was way outside of her comfort zone. But still, she couldn't help but think that someone like Fist, who had worked for both the Broker and Arterius, was more useful to them alive. The things he knew probably couldn't be summarized in whatever amount of minutes the specialist planned to talk to him before letting the bounty hunter kill him.

"We can't just let him kill Fis-"

"Enough talking," Wrex suddenly injected before placing his own hand on the opening mechanism of the door and stepping into the office beyond it, staring down a man with a brown buzzcut and a set of red and black armor in the process of setting up the last of four sentry guns. "You picked the wrong boss, Fist," he called, pointing his shotgun at the man and pulling the trigger. As Shepard winced, expecting a gory explosion to occur the moment the pellets connected with the comparably soft human, she found herself surprised when a field of light-blue harmlessly caught the rounds, preserving both Fist's life and the point her operation.

"Think you could catch me offguard like that, Wrex?" Why was she getting the feeling that this was personal and that Wrex had taken this job for more reasons than just the money? "You've been standing out there for two minutes," he chuckled as the three barrels of each of the sentry guns began spinning, causing her, the marines, the specialist and this time even the krogan to jump back into the warehouse for cover. "That's not how you get the drop on someone, you big stupid toad!" Fist shouted just before the guns began to roar, spitting their older, bigger powder-based bullets in their direction. Somewhat outdated or not, their sheer volume and tungsten tips would be more than enough to shred right through their shields and they all knew it. As the bullets poured down on the crate she was using for protection, Emily considered her options.

Fist had nowhere to go, otherwise he wouldn't have chosen to make a stand like this. That was good, it bought them some time since it meant they wouldn't have to try and chase him. If she'd have more faith in the crates and whatever content was currently stopping the rounds from tearing through them and burying themselves in her back, she might've even said that they could just wait for them to run out of ammunition. But that wasn't the case. Crates weren't good or reliable cover. So as things were she had to work under the assumption that she had to get them out of here as soon as possible. Standard procedure when engaging an entrenched position was to try and divert the defender's attention and attack from multiple angles or use indirect weapons to just blow them up from the safety of their own cover. Since they needed Fist alive, tossing a frag into the room to take out both the gun and him was hardly an option. Since the man had put some kind of shield generator in between them, attacking him directly was also not promising good chances of success, at least not if her goal remained to bring her entire squad, the specialist and even the krogan out in one piece.

That of course meant that she had to find a third option.

"Ma'am, I've got an idea," Alenko called through the gunfire of the automated weapon focused on him.

Or maybe not.

"I'm all ears!" at least as much as she could be considering the painful sensation quickly appearing in her ears. Had she known she'd be assaulted by a constant stream of bullets today, she never would've left it on the Normandy. So much for this just being a short trip to the embassy and back.

"Four guns, three biotics," the lieutenant elaborated. Wait. Three biotics? "I can take care of two turrets, think you can each handle one?" he asked, first turning to the specialist next to him and then looking at Wrex who's much higher stature had forced him to hunker down next to the doorway. The guy was a biotic? Interesting. As far as she knew, all human biotics went to the same academy on Terra Nova. If he hadn't aimed a gun at his face five minutes ago, she might've jumped to the conclusion that Alenko had known the HSAIS agent from his time at Grissom Academy.

"You thinking statis?" the other, recently-revealed human biotic asked back.

"It's our only option if we don't want to risk killing Fist."

"What's a statis supposed to be?" the krogan chipped in. In retrospective she probably could've told the two men that the terms and moves taught to them by their asari and turian instructors probably wouldn't immediately be familiar to a krogan, not anymore at least. At this point, most of what their biotics learned was probably self-taught anyway.

"Just lock them up! If they can't move, their firing mechanism will jam!" Alenko shouted back before sharing a nod with the specialist. She had to give it to the lieutenant, his plan was smart. Eve if she didn't like the idea of staying put and watching the three biotics risk their neck for her, she could definitely see the logic and thought behind it. "We're gonna need a distraction first, otherwise we'll get torn to pieces the moment we get up!" the biotic added before again looking at Wrex.

"Why are you looking at me? I thought I was part of your plan!"

"Because unlike the two of us, you're a krogan wearing heavy armor!" the specialist returned right as a round bounced off the edge of his cover, the sparks and shrapnel caused by the friction flying by dangerously close to his face. Considering the situation they were in, Shepard also had to give him some credit. He might've been incredibly reckless to just walk up to them like he had and he might've tried to strike a morally reprehensible deal with Wrex in an attempt to hijack her mission but he was still going up against automated sentry turrets with only plain civilian clothing. Biotics aside, doing that took a special albeit very dangerous kind of courage. With phasic ammunition, barriers and shields only offered limited protection and as such it was always good to have an additional layer of armor between your vital organs and the bullets being shot at them.

"We'll be right after you. You only have to buy us enough time to get up!" Alenko added, sounding way more cooperative than the other human biotic, "You go on three, we go on one, clear?" he asked as a piece of the wall the krogan was hiding behind got torn off, forcing him back further into the direction of the corner.

"That damned Fist," he cursed as he hefted his shotgun upwards, visibly becoming angry. Or rather angrier. "Alright. Fine. I go on three. You better go on one. Otherwise the turrets won't be the only thing shooting at you."

"Five!" She still wasn't sure what to make of the krogan. On the one hand he had made it very clear where he stood in regards to Fist and what that would potentially mean for them once they reached their common goal of getting to him.

"Four!" Additionally to that, it was also very clear where he stood in regards to her own moral compass, or at least it appeared that way. Although executing a surrendering, unarmed merc and then sparing two armed, albeit harmless warehouse workers hadn't exactly painted a clear picture of his own code, if he even had one to begin with.

"Three!" Then again, everyone probably had a code. Of course she wasn't naive enough to believe that his was in line with hers. It obviously wasn't. But as she watched him spin out of cover and flare up purple, Emily wondered if the krogan was simply taking a long, elaborate gamble by joining forces in them, interested in the prize offered by the specialist or if there was more to him than just a bounty hunter looking to collect his prize.

"Two!" Krogan usually didn't play well with others. From what the history books told her, that had been the case ever since the Genophage and from what she had seen first hand during her deployments near the Terminus Systems, their dwindling numbers and increasing threat of extinction only seemed to succeed in making them even less willing to rally behind a common cause, like say going after the same target. The more of them went off to fight their battles and died, the less it looked like things would actually get better for them anymore.

"One!" Yet somehow this krogan was different from that. At least in how he seemed to be able to work as a part of a team that was made up of non-krogan. As four purple fields appeared around the guns, jamming them as intended, it didn't take long for Williams to pick up on her intention. Rising in unison, the two non-biotics decided to finish what their companions had started by riddling the guns with a dozen small holes each, effectively removing what little danger they now posed. When the damage was done, the mass effect fields holding them in place vanished and Wrex stomped forward, the specialist right behind him.

"Ten minutes, that's all I need," he urged the krogan as they reached the other end of the office where their target had pressed his back against the wall, not being able to run any further. "Then he's all yours."

"Don't worry. He won't die right now," the bounty hunter replied as he walked up to Fist and shoved him into the closest wall, an action that immediately seemed to put Williams on edge. "I've got my own questions for him," the large alien muttered as his hand slid around the man's neck, by the sound of it squeezing just hard enough for it to become painful.

"You do?" Fist managed to get out after a few coughs.

"I thought you were here to kill him," Emily herself asked.

"That part comes later," the krogan said, his attention completely focused on the club owner who's life he was now literally holding in his hands. As he smashed him into the wall again, drawing a painful grunt from Fist, the N7 was well aware that if she wanted to take him out, this was her best shot. He was distracted and his back was turned towards her. Honorable or not, this was the best shot she'd get. "For now why don't you start by telling me why your boss had mercs raid a camp holding some of the last fertile females of Clan Urdnot?" he demanded to know as the human in his grip was lifted of his feet, rapidly showing the first signs of asphyxiation. It seemed like there really was more to it than just a bounty after all. Krogan or not, no one got that angry over a professional job. When Fist didn't open his mouth, either because he did have a spine after all or because he lacked the air to form words, Wrex hoisted him up into the air a bit further. "Start talking!"

"He can't do that if you break his windpipe," the specialist threw in as he got up close to Wrex, smashing the palm of his hand against the wall near Fist's head in an attempt to draw the big alien's attention and putting himself in the crossfire of whatever move she'd order her marines to make from here on out. "Give him some air," he said as the krogan turned to look at him." Then he'll talk." After a second in which it looked like the HSAIS agent might become his next victim, Wrex seemed to take his suggestion, easing his grip just enough for Fist's feet to once more touch the office's floor.

"You got your shot, Gunny?" she muttered quietly towards Williams, counting on the distance in between them to prevent Wrex from hearing them.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Good.

"Talk," Wrex grumbled as she walked over to Alenko.

"Go to hell you stupid toa-" Wrex tightening his grip for a brief second second quickly got rid of whatever faked defiance Fist had been trying to put up.

"Talk," the bounty hunter repeated.

"I-" Fist's defiance cracked with a cough. "Don't know anything about tha-" as the krogan shoved him back into the wall, Emily noticed the specialist looking at her ever so briefly. As his hand began to be embraced in a field of purple, she got the impression that he too was starting to come to the conclusion that this wasn't going to end the way either of them needed it to end.

"You're lying," Wrex replied angrily. "Last chance. Give me the truth or die a painful death.."

"No, I swear," the man insisted, his voice turning weaker with every word. "I don't know what he'd want with a bunch of krogans. All I did was hire the hitmen for that quarian chick and the redhead there," as the color began fading from his face, Fist began choking on his words, his eyes begging her to help him in spite of him just saying that he had tried to have her killed.

"Why should I believe you, you quadless cowa-"

"Alright that's enough!" she called while raising her Valkyrie, an action that seemed to suffice in telling the specialist to take a step back. "Put him down, Wrex," she demanded as she and the two marines began spreading out behind Wrex's back all the while the agent pulled his own gun.

"Or what?" the krogan muttered before turning his attention back to the increasingly less conscious Fist. "Tell me what Saren's planning and I'll make it quick. I know something's going on, I heard the rumors, saw his handiwork. I just haven't figured out," he went on while lifting Fist further up, either not noticing or caring that she was closing in on him, "what my people have got to do with all of it," if looks could kill, Fist would already be dead by now."Tell me, is he trying to neuter us again? Renew the genophage because we haven't suffered enough already?"

"I swear I just run his things on the Citadel I don't kno-"

"Put him down. Now," Emily said she planted the barrel of her Valkyrie on the krogan's temple. "Or you'll find out the hard way that barriers have a minimal range."

"If you've lived as long as I have," the bounty hunter muttered as she continued pressing her weapon to the side of his face where his skin would hopefully be thin enough for her shot to get through all the way to his brain without triggering a blood rage, "you feel it in your bones when a storm begins to gather," he went on before turning to look at her, unimpressed by the gun barrel now pointed squarely at his face. "They start aching, beg you to do something about it. Stop the storm before it gets out of control. At first you can ignore the pain like any other but the longer it goes on, the worse it gets, the more you just want to," his grip tightened again,"kill what whatever is causing it," as his red and black eyes met her own, Emily mentally prepared herself to shoot someone directly in their face. While it helped that he wasn't a human, his alien appearance adding the much needed distance, it still was nothing like the mechanical process of killing someone in combat. This wouldn't be just another quick, clean kill. This one would haunt her.

"Drop him," she instructed as her finger began pressing against the trigger, feeling the slight resistance that was the only thing standing between the krogan and his death even through her gauntlet. For what felt like an eternity, the two stared at each other, both being too stubborn to back down from their intention. Then, seemingly out of the blue and just as she had been about to do it, a grin appeared on Wrex's face and he dropped the unconscious Fist.

"Heh", the krogan chuckled as he continued to stare at the barrel of the gun. "You've got a quad, Shepard." She wasn't entirely sure what that meant but given his sudden change in demeanor, she decided to lower her rifle and ease her finger. However for the moment, the safety would stay off. "Getting in my face like that," he mused while delivering a lazy kick to Fist's torso, either out of spite or, more likely considering the man's visible reaction to it, to prove that he wasn't as out of it as he tried to appear. "Not a lot of people survived that up to now."

Was that a compliment?

Again, she wasn't entirely sure.

"Ten minutes, then he's all yours," she heard the specialist say as he pulled Fist up, this time not by his neck but by his collar. As the club owner tried to rub his neck only to find himself being pressed against the same wall he had just been freed from, she was only somewhat convinced that the specialist would be more gentle than the larger krogan. While he lacked his size and strength, she got the feeling that he might be far more creative than Wrex.

"I don't care about the money or this pyjak. You can keep both," the bounty hunter muttered as he strapped his shotgun back to its place at his lower back, causing the dark-haired HSAIS agent to look back at her with his hazel eyes.

"I thought you said he was here kill him?" he asked.

"The job was just a cover for me to figure out why that turian bastard did what he did," Wrex replied as she in turn looked at the krogan, equally curious. "A merc doing a hit for the Broker raises way less attention than a krogan asking around if a Spectre is trying to create a new Genophage. The former gets you beatcops like Bailey, the latter gets you the Council's personal attack varren."

"If it was a cover, why would you tell us about it?" the other human biotic, Lieutenant Alenko, asked.

"Because you're definitely not in with whatever scheme Saren is trying to pull on my people now that he turned dirty. Otherwise you wouldn't be going after his guy," as the specialist, the N7 and the two marines looked at him with some confusion, the korgan shrugged. "What?" he asked. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Saren switched sides."

"How do you know that Arterius went rogue?" Alenko was the first to speak up the question forming on everyone's mind. They had just learned about it a few hours ago yet Wrex sounded like it was old news to him.

"Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't," the biotic nodded.

"Nearly twenty years he and that human friend of his chase people like me across the galaxy and suddenly he ditches that Anderson guy and starts hiring us? And then he starts having the people who do jobs for him killed? He really couldn't have made it more obvious," the krogan explained. "Besides, the Broker's been suspecting something like this for weeks now. He wanted me to squeeze Fist out about it as well if I got the chance," as he looked at the weak but conscious club owner and the specialist holding him, he smirked. "Guess you can do that for him now. Heh. He might even pay you for your trouble."

Although she hid it really well, Emily wasn't sure what worried her more, the fact that the galactic underworld had apparently picked up on a rogue Spectre quicker than the Citadel Council or the fact that Arterius, besides leading an army of geth, had also taken an interest in the krogan and the Genophage. Was it part of his plan to gather the biggest potential threats of the galaxy and throw them their way? Because if that was the case, she'd need a lot more firepower than a Valkyrie rifle.

"So that's it? You're just gonna walk away?" the specialist figured.

"No," the korgan shook his head. "I meant what I said. When you're as old as I am, you can feel a storm coming," he said while looking at her. "And by the looks of it you and Saren are right at the center of it."

"I get Arterius but why me?" Emily asked in returned, somewhat perplexed.

"Saren wouldn't have told this guy to sent hitmen after you if you weren't important to his plan," Wrex replied while pointing his thumb at the still pinned Fist. "Now I don't know what business you have with him but I want in on it. At least until I know what happened to our females. I don't want any money or any reward, I just want answers."

"I'm not sure I can make that call," Emily sighed. She might've been the one in charge of this mission but she still answered to people and as long as she was part of the HSA's chain of command, the chance of her getting the green light to hire a korgan bounty hunter were slim to none. With the history her people had with krogan mercenaries, it would probably earn her far more than a flat out 'no' as well. Additionally, she still wasn't sure that she wanted someone like Wrex watching her back. Although his motivations had turned out more noble than initially suspected, she still remembered what he had done and threatened to do not ten minutes ago.

"If we're both going after Saren you will see me again. It's up to you to decide on what terms that happens," Wrex offered before his omni-tool glowed for a second, an incoming message appearing on her own a few moments later. "I'll be on the Citadel for another two days. If I don't hear from you until then, I'll consider that a no."

"Hold up. Where do you think you're going?" Williams called as the krogan began moving away from her, the specialist and Fist and towards the exit.

"To get a drink before C-SEC books me for the night," he replied dryly.

"It's alright," she sighed again. "Let him go, Gunny," turning her head back to Fist and the specialist, Emily began wondering if this was how it'd go from now, if she'd keep stumbling from one mess into the next one until she finally saw the end of it. "What do we do with him?" she asked the dark-haired man who's name she doubted she'd hear today. While Fist was his mission, she knew that Section 13 could pull still pull a card on her that had been handed to them way back during the Fringe Wars. If he saw fit, he could levy her help or hijack her mission in whatever way he needed to do his own job. She didn't particularly agree with it or the policy behind it but being a soldier, she'd comply with that chain of command as well.

"Udina sent you to figure out what he knows about Saren going rogue, didn't he?" the specialist replied, his eyes still set on Fist.

"Considering you are here," she said, dragging out the 'you' to imply that she was talking less about the specialist himself and more about Section 13, "Udina probably sent me here in the hopes of salvaging the mess he made when he benched Anderson. Me being here is probably just his saving throw for when Arcturus comes knocking on his door."

"So Fist is part of your evaluation?"

"As far as Udina is concerned, yes."

"Alright," the specialist said before pulling Fist away from the wall and shoving him towards Alenko,"then you should probably get him back to the embassy."

"Aren't you going to question him first? Complete your mission?"

"Same side, remember?" he offered before stuffing his SIS-8 into the holster hidden beneath his jacket.

"No, actually," she countered, finally allowing herself to voice what had been in the back of her mind ever since he had first shown up. "Five minutes ago you were perfectly fine with selling my mission out for yours."

"Well, five minutes ago I was still under the impression that the guy wouldn't walk out of here without a couple of extra holes," he replied with a shrug. "Mission perimeters changed, I adapted. Simple as that."

"I don't think negotiating over the death of someone I'm supposed to bring in alive is as simple as that."

"And I'm not here to convince you that it is," clapping his hands and rubbing their palms together, the man nodded towards the entrance. "Either way, Wrex had the right idea. We should probably get out of here before the cops show up. Our profile is high enough as it is, getting arrested would just top it off. Don't need that in my report or my life. I'll never hear the end of this as it is already."

Fine.

He had a point.

"You've got the target secured, Lieutenant?" Emily asked into the room.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Alright. Let's get out of here."

* * *

 **Fifteen Minutes Later, 6. January 2415 AD, Citadel, Upper Zakera Wards**

Since the embassy hadn't been able to organize them a ride in the middle of the unaccessible Lower Wards, her team plus Fist and the specialist had walked to the more connected Upper Wards where a couple of Kodiaks would pick them up and carry them back to the safe walls of the sole piece of HSA territory aboard the station. Although they had caught a few glances here and there, the N7 had found the general lack of interest most people around here seemed to have for what was going on around them to be incredibly helpful. Having avoided C-SEC patrols, likely because most of their local officers had responded to Bailey's call near Chora's Den, their walk had been surprisingly quiet considering they had been dragging a known crime boss through public streets for most of their journey.

"Our pick up should be waiting just behind the clinic there, Ma'am," Williams said while looking at her omni-tool, having taken up the role of their navigator somewhere between Chora's Den and the labyrinth that were the market of the Lower Wards. As she led them through the mostly empty part of this station, the lack of people around them caused Shepard to be even more vigilant than before. On the Citadel, especially the wards, it was hard to find a place as empty as this. The only reason she could come up with locals avoiding this part of the wards was that they knew something was about to go down. Although he had already spilled some of his secrets on the way up here in hopes being cut loose, Fist was probably still important enough to warrant some kind of rescue effort.

If it was coming, it'd happen now.

"Good, stay frosty. I don't want this going wrong on the last couple of mete-"

As the first gunshot rang out from somewhere up ahead, her first look went to Alenko and Fist, halfway expecting to find the latter on the ground, dying in a puddle of his own blood. Luckily for her mission, that hadn't been the case.

"I think it's coming from the clinic," the brunette gunnery sergeant muttered while lowering her omni-tool and grabbing a hold of her assault rifle.

"Good, then it's probably not meant for us," the specialist replied a moment and another gunshot later. "We should keep moving. Get Fist out of here before these guys make it about us."

"No. We're not ignoring somebody shooting up a clinic," she shook her head before flicking off the safety of her weapon. Whoever these guys were, if they were going after a medical center, it was safe to assume that they wouldn't hesitate to shoot then on sight as well. Considering what they were attacking, she'd return that favour. "Secure the asset, Lieutenant Alenko. Williams, you're with me."

"Yes, Ma'am," the two replied.

"This is C-SEC's job, Commander," the specialist argued as he followed her and the gunnery sergeant. "Let them handle it. We got our own mission to take care of."

"C-SEC is busy with the mess we made at Chora's Den. The least we can do is sort this out," she replied before pressing herself against the silvery-white wall near the clinic and creeping up to the entrance situated below the sign marking it as a medical facility, also taking note of the trail of red blood leading into it. As she risked a peak around the corner, spotting more blood, a small entrance section and a portion of the treatment room behind the halfway opened door, she realised that no one was actually watching the entrance area. That was a chance she wasn't going to pass up on. Sliding around the corner and sticking to the wall, the N7 made her way inside.

"I know you're hiding her in here, Doc," she heard a voice call as Williams shuffled in after her. "Just give her up and make this easy for us."

"I don't know who you're talking about," another retorted defiantly. "I haven't had a patient in the last hou-"

"Cut the crap, her blood's all over the place."

"This isn't our fight, Shepard," the specialist whispered as he surprisingly enough appeared behind them, his lack of armor and quiet footsteps meaning that neither of them had heard him coming. "Let it go."

He wasn't serious, was he? Then again, he might as well have been. Between his attempted hijacking of her own mission, the deal he had tried to strike with Wrex and his insistence to keep going when gunshots echoed from a clinic, she was starting to get the impression that this guy wasn't one for doing the right thing.

"I already told you. I don't know anything about a quarian," the disembodied female voice from before replied, the slight shaking in her tone and audible noise of a safety being undone causing the commander to keep advancing. If she didn't get in there right now, she'd probably be too late. She wasn't going to let that happen.

"Fine then, you wanted it this way. Time to say goo-" the words of the salarian were interrupted when Emily jumped into the treatment room and put a burst of sand-grain sized rounds into the side of his torso. Spending no time with watching him collapse in a pool of his own acid-green blood and instead switching her aim to the next of the three remaining assailants, who all looked like they had recently been involved in a rather nasty brawl, her subconsciousness registered what else was going on in the room. In the one corner she could see a redhaired woman clad in medical fatigues, her raised hands suggesting that she was the clinic's doctor that had just been threatened. Next to her own target and in between the doctor and what looked like a back entrance, a batarian wearing a four-eyed mask went down at the hands of Williams. And in the far back of the room, previously hunched behind one of the treatment tables near the back entrance, a figure clad in blue armor was rapidly making its appearance. After her next set of rounds had entered the chest of the human she had been aiming at, the N7 changed her stance so that her Valkyrie would meet the last hostile in the room, only coming to a stop when she relaised that the doctor was in between her and a clean shot.

"One step closer and she's dead," the last standing turian assailant muttered as his mandibles twitched nervously. "I mean it. You move, she dies."

"This doesn't have to go down like this," she muttered all the while waiting for the slightest shift in his positioning that would allow her to dispatch him. "Let her go, then we can talk," she said, moving to the side as she saw the figure of blue, a grey-plated turian obviously part of C-SEC, creep up on him, gun in hand.

"You think I'm falling for that?" the hostage-taker replied as he forcefully pulled his human shield to stay in between him and the N7. "I'm gonna count to three, if you're not gone by then, the doc gets it. One. Tw-" as a blue mist shot out of the side of his head and painted the sterile wall next to it much like spray paint would've, the countdown ended. At least for the second it took for someone else to pick it up.

"Three," a similarly flanging voice finished. As the C-SEC officer lowered his weapon, revealing a blue-marked face that Shepard couldn't help but feel like she had seen already earlier today, he also seemed to admire his shot for a moment before actually holstering the Carnifex. "Thanks for the assist. Wouldn't have gotten a clean shot without you," he offered casually. Looking at the corpse and noticing that the doctor was still standing like a statue, a faint bluish colour covering the side of her face that had been next to the exit point of the officer's shot, Emily only now realised just how close the shot had actually gotten to hitting her as well.

"You call that a clean shot?" she asked baffled while walking over to the still unmoving doctor, aware that she was in shock right now. "You almost hit her," Emily pointed out while guiding the woman to a close-by chair, worrying that her legs might give in any moment now. "Christ, one wrong twitch and you could've killed her," she added.

"I wasn't going to-" the officer stuttered as he was caught off-guard, "I didn't mean to-," he again ended his own sentence in its middle. "Spirits, I'm so sorry. I never should've -" the turian muttered while rushed over to them. "Doctor Michel, are you alright?" he finally managed to ask without cutting himself off.

"I will be now that you're here," she replied, her distinctive accent betraying that she had likely grown up on Earth. For someone who had just been held hostage, she certainly seemed to be in a good mood. Or at least it had appeared that way right until the smile vanished off her face as sudden as it had appeared. "God, the quarian!" she called after a moment before raising her hand at what looked like a closet meant for medical supplies, her urgent pointing causing Williams to walk over to it. "I managed to stop her bleeding but she still needs help, she's lost a lot of blood already and she still needs stronger antibiotics than I have here," the doctor's words left her mouth just as the marine opened the door, instinctively catching the female figure falling towards her from inside the wall compartment.

"Crap. Get her on that desk. I'll call for help," the turian muttered as his hand slid to the side of his eye-piece. "Dispatch, this is Vakarian. I need a medi-"

"For her sake, I wouldn't do that," the specialist injected, causing a turian set of icy blue eyes and a human set of green ones to settle on him.

Alright.

That was it.

She officially had heard enough.

"Are you seriously suggesting that we don't get her help?" Emily was the first to speak up.

"No. I'm saying that if she ends up in a hospital, she's as good as dead," likely picking up on her glare, the man sighed all the while the doctor rushed over to the table where Williams had put the quarian down. "If she goes to the hospital, she enters public records. If she enters public records, the people who did this to her will know where she is and come back to finish the job."

"How could you possibly know that?" she asked back, still stunned at the suggestion.

"I tracked her down earlier today. Saved her from this lot, actually," the man replied as he nudged his head towards one of the corpses. "Didn't think I'd see her again though. We split up shortly after she handed over the intel."

"You knew that someone was trying to kill her and you still left her alone?" the turian muttered the sentence lying on the N7's tongue while removing his hand from the eye-piece, ignoring whatever reply his half-finished transmission had gotten.

"What was I supposed to do? Take her hand and walk her to the next C-SEC station where she'd also end up on the record?"

"For starters," Shepard injected before looking at the quarian lying on the sterile table. There she was, in pain and twitching under whatever procedure Doctor Michel was currently going through in an attempt to treat the injury located near her suit-covered abdomen. Medigel or not, a gutshot was bad enough if you had a working immune system, being quarian and not having one probably just made it worse. Deciding that she had seen enough of her suffering, Emily turned back to the specialist. "Look at what happened, she got shot."

"Not on my watch," he replied, apparently not phased by what he was looking at.

"That's the point. She got shot because you weren't around to stop it," the turian pointed out. "If you're done pretending this isn't on you,I'll be calling medical now."

"Again, I wouldn't do that if you want her to live."

"You almost got her killed once already, why exactly should I listen to you?" he asked as his mandibles pressed against the side of his face.

"Because I know that a rogue Spectre is trying to get her killed to cover up the fact that he kidnapped a councilor," the specialist muttered before tossing a small data-drive towards the turian. "And because I know that the Council would really like to hear about what the hell he's trying to do with her, which won't happen if you give up the one thing keeping her alive right now by adding her to public records and telling half the Citadel where she is," he added before looking at Shepard. "And of course because the medical bay of the Normandy is a whole lot better suited to treat this kind of injury than whatever second-rate clinic C-SEC will put her in. Safer too," a sigh escaped him. She knew that he was playing on her sympathy for the quarian and she hated the fact that it was working. "My suggestion?" he began while nodding towards the doctor. "She patches her up and preps her for transport," he went on before looking at the turian, "you come back to the embassy with us and wait until she's ready to testify in front of the Council," turning towards her, Emily was about to say something but got interrupted when he finished his plan, "and you tell Anderson and Harper to finally tell you what's actually going on here. If you're supposed to do his job for him, the least he can do is tell you what you're actually up against," Looking at her for just a moment longer than necessary to get his point across, the specialist turned on his heel before pressing a finger against his ear.

"Yo-yo, I'm done in the wards. I'll be up in fifteen," he spoke before his shoulders dropped visibly. "What? No, I didn't get arrested," he chuckled in a tone very different from before while walking out of the clinic, taking care not to step in the small, colorful puddles of blood covering the floor. "Sure I was there, but I didn't cause it," there was a short pause, likely because of the person on the other end talking. "Since when does being there alone count? Did I miss the memo?" another pause. "Okay, yeah. I get it. You win, drinks are on me." As he vanished beyond the entrance area and moved out of earshot it only took a few moments for another dark-haired human to step inside, dragging the captured club owner behind him by his cuffs.

"What happened, Ma'am? Where's the specialist going?" Alenko asked as she once more felt eyes turn towards her in the expectation of answers she didn't quite have.

"Don't know, don't care," she replied, this time honestly. As far as she was concerned, she'd be glad if this was the first and last time she ever saw him. "Doctor?" she added after a moment and a sigh. "When will the quarian be ready for transport?" Although she was glad that he was gone, she wasn't going to ignore that his 'suggestion', which easily could've been an order as well thanks to the outdated but somehow still active set of priviliges handed to Section 13 during the Fringe Wars, had been a good one.

If there was one thing she would've been able to agree with the specialist, it was that it was about time someone told her what was really going on here.

* * *

 **Two Hours Later, 03:04 Board Time, 7. January 2415 AD, HSASV Ain Jalut**

The last two days had been rather sleepless for Tore Haugen and not only because he had gone through the usual struggle of adapting to a ship's day and night cycle he always went through when leaving the safe, non-artificially generated gravity of the planets army grunts spent most of their careers on.

What had been on his mind these past days was a simple thing.

No, two simple things actually.

First off there had been the geth attack on Eden Prime, a planet generally considered to be amongst the safest core worlds the HSA held under its governance. With one of the jewels of humanity having come under fire during a time where the military presence on it had been at an all-year height, the usual line of thought he used to justify him being away from Terra Nova for months at a time, namely the fact that his wife would be more than just safe on one of the HSA's core worlds, had simply fallen flat on its face. While the rational part of him knew that there was no way he'd not hear of a geth attack on Terra Nova the moment the fleet stationed around it made contact, the mandatory radio silence issued to Phantom Squad the moment they had boarded the navy's newest stealth ship and the paranoia of something happening without him hearing of it wasn't doing any favours for the less rational and more emotional part of himself that he usually left where it belonged, back home.

Secondly, much like the rest of his squad, the knowledge that they wouldn't be going out and avenging their fallen comrades, instead waiting for the Ain Jalut to arrive on its destination at the far end of the Skyllian Verge where his team would have their first deployment of Hackett's personal mission, weighed on him. Although brief compared to the past alien incursions into human territory, the geth attack had claimed thousands of lives and the death toll still continued to climb as rescue and recovery teams uncovered more victims of the raid with every passing hour, a name he had instantly recognized as a member of his training class being the most recent addition.

While he recognized the bit of irony and hypocrisy of it considering how ASOC units usually operated, there was hardly anything Haugen hated nearly as much as a sucker from his perspective, the geth had just done that to humanity as a whole. Their attack had been unprovoked, unannounced and aimed right where it'd hurt most. All things he and his team usually strived for when being sent on a mission.

However from his point of view, there was still a difference between them and those synthetic monsters. Unlike the geth who hadn't discriminated between their targets, hitting civilians and soldiers alike, he and his comrades only went after the people who had it coming in the first place. And right now, those people weren't Balak and whatever number of followers the batarian scum had managed to gather around himself. No, the ones who had it coming most were the geth.

And they weren't going to go after them any time soon.

He hated that.

Therefore, the punching bag in front of him got to feel a bit of that hate blow for blow.

"You know you're gonna fuck up your hands again if you keep doing that, boss," the voice of Hofmann, his second in command, echoed through the otherwise empty gym, causing him to stop his beating of the imaginary geth and allowing the stinging sensation he had ignored up to now to rise in his knuckles. Unclenching his fists and inspecting the reddened and sore skin before massaging it, Tore turned to his comrade. "Maybe at least try and wear the bandages Sam got you?"

"If I wore them, I'd be missing half the point of doing this," he replied before grabbing his towel of the nearby bench and wiping his sweaty brow with it. "See?" he asked while holding up one of his hand. "Not even a bit of blood. Told you guys the skin would toughen up eventually."

"Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean its not hurt," pausing for a moment before tossing him a bottle of water likely coming from the recycled supply of the Ain Jalut, another part he hated about being stuck on a navy ship, Hofmann folded his arms in front of the bland green t-shirt that he had used for his personal training routine ever since he had known him. "I know you and Zan were close. You wanna talk about it, man?"

"No."

"Alright." There was another pause as the senior NCO set down his duffel bag and pulled two pairs of boxing gloves from it, holding one of them up in a clear offer. "You wanna get it out of your system?"

"Yeah."

"Alright."

* * *

 _Codex: Personal Kinetic Barriers_

 _Kinetic barriers, much like modern body armor in the form of vacuum-sealed hardsuits, for the backbone of infantry combat as most of the galaxy has known it for the last two thousand years._

 _Made up of mass effect fields projected to deflect incoming high-velocity projectiles without interfering with other tasks such as digging a trench or doing something as basic as sitting down, kinetic barriers have likely saved an unimaginable number of lives ever since being first being scaled down from working spaceship models at the peak of the Rachni Wars by salarian scientists looking to reduce the enormous casualties suffered by their krogan auxiliary troops. Much like a number of other significant technologies, such as FTL travel, mass effect weaponry and spaceship propulsion, the basic foundation of kinetic barriers is found in the prothean artifacts recovered across the galaxy._

 _However, notably enough considering the official lack of working infantry-models until the Rachni wars, turian and, as recently revealed by a series of leaked documents, batarian researchers had managed to produce similar albeit somewhat weaker types of kinetic barriers on their own without using the salarian prototype by studying their own biotics and finding a way to artificially reproduce the effect at the cost of durability._

 _While not having been able to adapt the technology to the scale needed for infantry combat until after their contact with the Citadel Council, it should also be pointed out that human scientists managed to produce a different, somewhat less effective but also less discriminative kind of shielding that, unlike kinetic barriers, also protects against energy weapons such as guardian lasers, several types of radiation and, depending on the model, vacuum exposure._

 _Contrary to popular believe and some media portrayals, kinetic barriers are neither one hundred percent reliable, nor able to stop projectiles fired from within their field of projection, for example by pressing the weapon directly against the target._

* * *

 **A/N: Shit this took me forever.**

 **On the bright side, I will probably be able to wrap up the whole Citadel stuff in chapter 52 now that Shepard met all the important characters she had to meet up to now and has received her incentive to A) learn a bit more about what's been going on all this time and B) began to figure out some things herself.**

 **Finally.**

 **I felt like it was starting to drag a little.**

 **Also, because I was slower to update these last few months, I was starting to become afraid you guys would start forgetting what other plotlines are going on (namely, the one in the end and Redford's which...I will pick up on either at the end of next chapter or the one after it... hint, for the people who are more interested in the HSA's past/ the lingering IFS issue / the HSA's internal politics, that's good news.)**

 **Also, also, I finally got around to have two backgrounds meet. Which you probably saw coming judging by how last chapter ended. Now I'm not sure if some of you figured Paragade and Paragon wouldn't exactly get along but with what I have planned for that 'pairing' (don't take this choice of phrasing the wrong way), a rough start fits better with how Season 3 is gonna end and what's gonna happen after that to each of them.**

 **Also, also, also.. the renegade background still exists! Yeah. I'll go out of the way and say that his focus will be more in Mass Effect 2 and Mass Effect 3 because right now, the only thing that's happening for him is basically set up for something WAY down the line of Semper Vigilo's Mass Effect 1 and a tiny bit of acting as the 'outside' perspective as to what's 'officialy' going on in the galaxy.**

 **Also, also, also, also, I decided to give both Garrus and Wrex different reasons for actually joining up with Shepard (spoiler alert, of course the next chapter will end with them on the normandy. How couldn't it?), namely for wrex a bit more personal stake and for Garrus... something more official than "yeah, I'm investigating Saren. Lemme just drop everything to come with you." Shit turian or not, that was always... a bit weird to me.**

 **Also, also,also, also... my update pace isn't going to change I'm afraid. I'm juggling a lot of my time as things are, so probably... this is how it's gonna go from now. Two to three chapters a month (maybe less, maybe more.) No more weekly updates.**

 **Sadly.**

 **I am considering to maybe add a bit of words to each chapter tho because if this Citadel Arc has taught me anything, taking two months to complete what in my head is maybe 4 chapter's worth of scenes is a long ass time and I don't want that.**

 **But the issue I have with that is that I always kind of hit a good 'ending' somewhere around 9k to 10k words and don't want to artifically extend on that more than I already did in this chapter. (Originally the ending was supposed to be somewhere in 52 but I decided against that because well, at this point I am really worried you guys are forgetting stuff that, from my point of view, happened a couple of scenes ago, but from your point of view has been out of focus for eight weeks.**

 **Eeeeeither way, rambling aside.**

 **I hope you liked it.**

 **For the record we're at 436 reviews, 676 favorites and 772 follows.**

 **There's a plus to me taking longer.**

 **Those numbers seem bigger every time I get around to updating. 21 new favorites an 19 new follows. Sweet.**

 **As always, let me know what you think. Those of you who do already know that I always reply ;)**

 **See you around next time.**


	52. And So It Begins

**Chapter 52. And So It Begins**

* * *

 **Nine Hours Later, 7. January 2415 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy, Medical Wing**

A rogue Spectre.

A kidnapped councilor.

An angry ambassador breathing down her neck wanting to know how exactly his orders to pick up Fist had ended with her joining forces with a krogan mercenary, shooting up one of Lower Zakera Wards' most popular nightclubs, getting involved in another shoot-out inside a medical facility and bringing not only her target but also a turian C-SEC officer and an injured quarian pilgrim back to the embassy.

And to top it all of, a Section 13 agent insisting that neither Captain Anderson nor Director Harper were telling her the truth about what had been going on since Eden Prime and again reminding her of the more than cryptic message and vision the destroyed prothean beacon left her with.

To say that her life was chaotic mess of secrets, hidden agendas and confusion at the moment would've been painfully accurate.

Interrupting her pacing in front of the embassy's medical wing with a sigh, Emily looked at the door. While they wouldn't have all the answers, especially not in regards to what the beacon had done to her, the injured quarian and the turian C-SEC officer who hadn't left her side from the moment she had left the operating room, could at least help her make some sense of one of her current problems.

Namely, the kidnapped councilor.

While the Council had never offered a formal statement in regards to the disappearance or closed the investigation into the whereabouts of their former colleague, it hadn't taken long for a plausible explanation to surface. Although space travel was an everyday part of life and accidents were luckily rare, especially with vessels as advanced as that of the Asari Republics, cases of ships embarking on a journey and never arriving at their destination occurred every now and again. Whether it was a technical failure, a freak collision with another ship that happened to drop out of FTL in the exact same place another did or something as mysterious as the Omega-4 Relay that seemed to claim every explorer, settler or smuggler foolish enough to believe they'd be the first to make it through the unexplored relay and live to tell the tale, it was far easier to get lost out in space than people regularly traveling through it were comfortable with admitting. So as far as she and the general public had been concerned that was exactly what had happened. Matriarch T'Soni had gotten on her ship, set out to wherever it was that she had planned to go to and then, with the snap of a finger, she had been gone. No grand conspiracy, no kidnapping orchestrated by her current replacement or another unseen political rival, just an unfortunate accident that could've happened to everyone else.

Given what she had gone through these past few days, she probably should've seen it coming that it wouldn't be this simple.

Technically what she was about to do wasn't forbidden. After arriving she had been told to remain on stand-by and wait for further orders. No one had said anything about her not being allowed to launch her own investigation into something she was certain to be related to what had happened to her on Eden Prime. After all, she'd have to be a moron to assume that Arterius kidnapping Benezia wasn't somehow related to Arterius attacking Eden Prime and causing the beacon to do whatever it was that it had done to her. It just had to be. However from the real and not the technical point of view, the implication of remaining on stand-by had of course been that she should stay near or preferably inside the armory and wait for Udina to give her new orders, not go snooping around on her own and start asking question.

Emily had always considered herself to be by the book. She did what she was told to do and she did it to the best of her ability. To her orders had always been something she fully committed to. That was what it meant to be a soldier. Do what you're told and do it exactly like you're told. There was no room for bending the rules or using your own interpretation of what orders you were given. But with everything going on and the specialist's words getting surprisingly deep under her skin, she was starting to question the point of that mindset in her particular situation. Between losing the beacon, wreaking havoc in Zakera and pissing off Udina, there probably wasn't a lot of her career left to ruin.

What the hell.

Might as well find some answers.

Allowing herself another sigh before opening the door, the red-haired marine stepped into the mostly empty medical wing, immediately noticing the see-through barriers that had been set up between the bed the quarian was in and the rest of the sterile white room. Even though they had kept her suit intact, she figured that the doctors in charged wanted to lower the risk of further infection by setting up a small, improvised clean-room. From what she had heard regarding the state of the quarian, it was probably for the better. Although she seemed to be fine right now thanks to more medigel and whatever kind of antibiotics had been pumped into her system, Doctor Michel, who until further noticed had been 'asked' to remain in the embassy for her 'own safety', which was a nice way to say that she was being kept far away form the public eye because of what she had overheard in her clinic, had told her that it had been a very close call for the young woman.

After concluding that the quarian surviving the attempt on her life had already been enough of a reason to anger the ambassador by bringing her here, the N7 quickly glanced at the doctor currently tasked with caring for their 'guest' before looking at the bluish form that stood out against the white background of the medical wing and transparent glass of the clean room. Sitting on a chair that had been pulled right next to the entrance of the improvised quarantine wing was the turian C-SEC officer who by the looks of it had slept even less than her. Evidently struggling to keep his eyes open, she could pinpoint the exact moment he noticed her arrival by how he straightened himself in the chair, which creaked under the weight of his armor, and tried to appear as vigilant as possible.

"You know that she's save here, right?" Emily asked once she was sure he'd hear her. "There's no need for you to be on guard duty the entire time. Find a bed, get some sleep, she'll still be here when you come back."

"I appreciate the offer, Commander," the turian's voice flanged through the room, "but she's my only lead on the councilor and Saren. I'm not taking any chances."

"Now that kind of sounds like you don't trust us," she pointed out while leaning against the nearby wall, deciding that she wasn't going to sit down on the bed next to her no matter how tempting the prospect of sleep seemed right about now.

"Until I get her to testify in front of the council, trust isn't something I can afford," the detective replied.

"Well, I can only speak for myself," she shrugged,"but the way I see it, we're on the same side. At least when it comes to her."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Maybe?"

"With someone as high-profile as Saren turning rogue, there's no telling how deep this thing runs or who's side someone's on, especially not with people close to his allies."

So that what this was about.

Or rather who.

In retrospective it really hadn't been so hard to guess why the turian refused to leave the quarian's side.

"I see how it is," she said. "This is about Captain Anderson, isn't it?" He remained silent at that, giving her an answer and somehow adding to the specialist's warning at the same time without saying as much as a single word. "Honestly I don't think you have to worry about him. The captain's a good man," Emily offered.

"So was Saren before all of this." Alright. She'd be willing to see that point. "Then he snapped, got bought or decided to play for the other team for a change and see what it got him just for the fun of it and now a councilor's missing and his thugs are shooting people right here on the Citadel." And Eden Prime had been attacked and a prothean beacon had been destroyed. She'd keep that last part to herself for now though. "My point is, trust is a luxury none of us can afford right now," he finished before leaning back in the chair and reassuming his vigil of the door. She was starting to get the feeling that she should take a piece of that advice herself. "Now, why are you really here? I'm sure it's not for the company."

In retrospective she also should've known he'd figure out she was up to more than just a conversation. He might not have been a spy but being a detective on C-SEC was bound to give him the background needed to tell when someone had a hidden agenda.

"I was hoping to talk to the quarian," she answered truthfully. "Ask her about the Councilor."

"Tali."

"Come again?"

"Her name's Tali. Not quarian," as she looked at him with an unspoken question, the turian clarified. "At least that's what I think she said when I asked her earlier."

"She woke up?"

"I wouldn't call it waking up. She mumbled a couple of words, answered two questions and drifted back to sleep."

"I see."

"Your friend was right by the way," the detective said after a few silent seconds, his tone somewhat exhausted.

"My friend?"

"The guy from the clinic? Left without saying good bye? Only gave me this?" the turian clarified before holding up the small data drive.

"Oh. Him," she figured that he meant the specialist. "Definitely not a friend. But that's beside the point. Go on."

"When Doctor Michel came by to check on Tali she said that they almost lost her halfway through the surgery. If I had done it my way, she'd already been dead by the time C-SEC got her to a doctor."

"Beating yourself up over ifs won't get you anywhere," even though she gave that advice to a lot of people, she had the feeling that the turian needed it more than most of them. "She didn't die, that's what counts."

"That's not what you said to the other guy."

"You didn't leave her behind, did you?"

"I guess not."

"Commander Shepard," she suddenly heard Anderson call, the sound of his voice causing the turian's mandibles to press themselves tightly against his jaw. "Detective Vakarian," so that had been his name. Good to know. "The ambassador sent me to get you."

That was what the first human Spectre was doing now? Being sent to fetch people? Even though her own advice and the specialists words were still on her mind, she couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for the part she had played in Anderson being benched. In a way she really would've liked to hear what Arcturus had to say about Udina's role in that but as things were, they were probably far too busy with picking up the pieces of Eden Prime to give him the much needed talk.

"What for, Sir?" she asked while pushing herself off the wall just as the turian rose to his feet, again causing the chair to let out a painful creaking sound.

"He didn't exactly say," the older soldier shrugged before nodding towards the turian. "But if I had to take a guess, it's probably about whatever's on that drive the specialist gave to him."

"I'm not leaving her alone," Vakarian spoke up.

"If it's me who you're worried about, Detective," the benched Spectre offered. "Rest assured that if I'm right, we'll all be going to the same place together pretty soon."

"And where'd that be?"

"The Council's chambers."

As with a lot of things today, she also should've seen that coming.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 2156 CE, Theseus System, Feros**

The Cipher.

At first he hadn't entirely been able to grasp the concept behind what he had come here to find, lacking the insight necessary to understand why the vanguard had sent him to scour through the ruins of those who had come before his own cycle to search for a creature that had survived harvest after harvest only because it was the only one of its kind and could never hope to leave Feros or become part of the pattern itself.

But then, just before he and the geth had set foot on this world near the small research outposts a group of corporate scientists had unknowingly set up near where Sovereign suspected the heart of the creature to be, it had become clear. As if someone had snapped his fingers, Saren had understood what he'd find in the dark, overgrown, long abandoned reactor tower he was currently walking through.

Some time before the end of their cycle, the original protheans, who had been the dominant species of an empire made up of dozens of civilizations who had all either come to or been forced to see themselves as 'protheans' as well, had been faced with finding a solution to bridge the gap that existed between themselves and their subjects. Owned to a unique natural ability of its creators that had never been observed before in any known space-faring species before, the technologies necessary to win what the protheans had called the 'Metacon War', which had been a galaxy-spanning conflict engineered by Sovereign to weaken the last cycle before its harvest, had been impossible to access for all but the original protheans. Faced with the dilemma of either giving up the edge that had allowed them to rule over the galaxy for several uninterrupted millennia and risk giving their subjects a chance to topple them and take their place or maintain the status quo and watch their empire crumble to dust under the synthetic grip of the Zha'Til, the prothean leaders made the only decision available to them, create a device that allowed the subservient species of the empire to interact with their technology in the same way they could, the Cipher. Once he had obtained it, Saren would be able to make sense of the beacon's vision, bringing him one step closer to his actual goal of finding the Conduit and using it to bring about this cycle's harvest.

Once that was done, he would've fulfilled his part in the pattern and played his role in this harvest.

Then and only then would he be able to res-

As his senses tore him from his thoughts, the turian froze in place, an action immediately mirrored by both the geth troopers he had taken with him and the asari huntress he had captured alongside the councilor back on Illium.

Something was off.

Thanks to the bent up ahead, he couldn't actually see what it was that had caught his attention but judging by the look on her face, the asari had caught it too by now. After all, once one actually noticed it, it was hard to ignore the stench the changing wind was now blowing into their direction from somewhere deeper down the half-way finished reactor core.

As he gestured for one of the geth drones to investigate, the white synthetic marched forward without hesitation, its own ignorance in regards to the smell, its lack of a self-preservation instinct and its complete obedience to him causing it to pay no mind to the possible dangers that could be waiting for it just beyond the greyish-black walls of the structure they were in. With every time its metal feet hit the floor of the large prothean tower they had been searching for the better part of the day, Saren expected something to happen, to see the pulse rifle in its hand flash up as it spotted an enemy or to see it ripped apart by whoever had tried to lay an ambush for them. But strangely enough, none of that happened. The geth simply marched forward, remained out of sight for a minute and then came back, looking no worse for wear, the few rays orange light that managed to find their way into the otherwise shadowy corridors still reflecting of its polished white armor plates like they had done before, not a single scratch being visible on it as its flashing head turned back towards the Spectre, signaling him that it was safe to continue. Sharing a brief look with the sole other organic of his party, Saren gestured for two more geth to join the drone and repeat the search. He had all the time in the world and he wasn't going to take any chances, not when he was this close to the Cipher.

Watching as the geth went on their way to join their comrade, the Spectre began to blend out the unpleasant scent, ready to dismiss it as the product of the majority of Feros' vast, planet-spanning cityscape having been left unattended for fifty thousand years right until he saw all of the geth spin their heads in the same direction in one fluid motion, the fact that they processed the information they did pick up on far more quickly than any organic could ever hope to allowing them to hear it way before him. At first he wasn't entirely sure how to describe the noise, not really having anything to compare it to but when he focused on it more, blocking out the high-pitched electronic sounds the drones produced when they communicated with each other at short range, the closest comparison he could find was that of a soldier marching through thick, fresh mud. Or at least it would've been that if it hadn't been for the addition of the grunting noise now surfacing from somewhere in the reactor tower.

Deciding that he had to see for himself what was going on, the Spectre walked to where the geth drones were standing like statues, his Phaeston, which had accompanied ever since he had first earned the honor of calling himself a Blackwatch operative, at the ready. Expecting to find some kind of indigenous creature as the source of the geth's apparent confusion, he was ready to make short work of it and continue to pursue his mission. It was only when he turned the corner and came to a halt at the edge of a hole in the ceiling that he realised what he had found and why the geth hadn't shot it yet.

There, suspended just below them by four thick and dozens of smaller tendrils wrapped around support pillars and dug into the wall of the tower, was a large, light-brown being. If it weren't for the snout-like 'face' of the creature, from which a smaller set of thin tendrils were dangling and that seemed to move in a manner not quite unlike breathing, he might've passed this up as the dead remains of a once enormous plant. But as things were, this thing definitely wasn't dead. If anything, it looked like it was breathing.

"Stand back, make sure no one interferes," he ordered the geth as he noticed that a transparent liquid was starting to leak from an opening between the tendrils, a mouth of some kind. Next the 'body' of the creature began convulsing into the direction of the snout, causing the turian Spectre lowered his Phaeston. Judging by the thick dark-green plates covering the softer portions of the creature, his rifle wouldn't do any real damage to it to begin with. Additionally, he hadn't come here to kill this creature. He had come to bargain. Watching as a set of green, two-toed feet became visible from the mouth below the snout, followed by a set of deformed legs and a hunched upper body with two mismatched arms, Saren realised what the creature was doing.

It was creating a humanoid body for itself. An avatar so to speak.

When the figure's surprisingly intact head finally left the opening, it dropped to the ground, struggling to get up at first. To be honest, Saren wasn't entirely sure how he knew that he was looking at a badly-copied prothean but he didn't pay much mind to it either. By now he had grown used to knowledge and memories that weren't his own coming to him from time to time at the hands of Sovereign. As the figure finally rose, evidently not bothered by how one of its arms already seemed to slowly fall off its body, its head turned towards the turian, its four eyes focusing on him like the wanted to see right through him.

"Stranger," it said in a barely understandable voice as the large creature behind it convulsed again, the smaller tendrils of its mouth moving in a way that reminded the turian of a puppeteer and his puppet only without there actually being any connection between the strings and the puppet. "A thousand feelers have sensed you and the cold ones wander through the Old Growth. Why do you approach the Thorian?"

"I came to bargain with you," he replied, feeling a strange calm wash over him in spite of what he was standing in front of. Normally he would've at least been unnerved by something so disturbingly alien but luckily for him, Sovereign was there to silence his less focused thoughts.

"You are not the first of this cycle to stand within and before the Thorian to request a trade without understanding the prize they'd have to pay. Before you continue, consider your words carefully."

"I am not like any of my cycle," Saren countered with an icy voice. "The Thorian holds a key I need it to fulfill my mission. If it gives me the Cipher, I'll pay whatever prize your master desires."

"You seek knowledge of the past? Of the builders that spawned this thrall?" the avatar asked, in return. "The ones who attempted to trap the Old Growth in their cold shells?" although he wasn't sure if the things was capable of even feeling to that degree, Saren picked up on the anger the avatar's words carried. Apparently the protheans were a rather sensitive subject for this particular plant.

Not that it mattered to him.

"Yes," he simply answered.

"The Thorian has watched for many cycles. None ever rivaled the wisdom of the Old Growth and none ever will," the prothean avatar mumbled. "But out of all, the builders came the closest to achieving it," was that a hint of pride? Spirits, how conscious was that avata- Before his misguided sympathy for the thrall got the better of him, the whisper fortunately silenced that line of thought as well, allowing him to focus on the task at hand again. "Their key holds many secrets. To unlock them will cost you a life," the avatar continued as he walked towards Saren, the already 'injured' arm slowly losing its attachment to the body in the process and falling to the floor of the light-brown interior of the tower, revealing the root-like tendrils by which it had been connected to the rest of the prothean's body and confirming that the avatar wasn't an actual prothean but rather some kind of copy of one made by a material similar to the hundreds of roots he had previously assumed to be simple overgrowth.

"A life?" as the whisper telling him that he was too valuable to strike this deal and urged him to simply take the Cipher by force grew into an insisting roar, Saren did something he didn't think he would've been capable of doing anymore. He didn't heed its advice and voiced words that were entirely his own. "What does that mean?"

"A life is needed to replace the decaying flesh of this thrall," the copy of the prothean answered. "Unlike the Thorian, we do not endure age. Time takes their toll on us, weakens us," as the avatar again looked at him, Saren began to form a theory around its words. The last protheans had made their stand on a distant world which name meant nothing to him nearly fifty thousand years ago, having abandoned Feros centuries beforehand. As he merged his own logic with the knowledge of the vanguard, it became clear that it had been far more than fifty thousand years since the Thorian had first claimed the prothean that formed the basis of this avatar and that in spite of its ability to create copies of the alien time and again for occasions such as this one, his template had already been declining for centuries. By the looks of the copy in front of him, the Thorian would soon be incapable of making any more copies, "Makes us brittle and fall apart," it finished. "Soon I won't be able to serve the Thorian, a new thrall is needed to take my place."

"You want me to become the Thorian's new avatar?" he asked, already knowing both his and Sovereign's answer to the request and preparing himself to give the geth the order to attack.

"No, not you. Your flesh lacks endurance," the thrall replied as its head shifted to the asari he had brought along incase communication with the keeper of the Cipher would've proved to be impossible by conventional means and required a mindmeld to be successful. "This one's doesn't," it explained as Saren noticed the small root brushing around the asari's boots. "The Old Growth feels the strength pulsing through its veins. It will serve longer and better than either of us."

Before he had understood the reality of the world he lived in and learned of the true meaning behind not just his own life but the lives of everyone in the galaxy, a trade like this one would've made him sick to his stomach. He never would've willingly condemned someone to whatever it was that the Thorian did to them to produce its avatars. Although he didn't know the details, just by looking at the thrall he knew that it was a fate he wouldn't even have wished upon his worst enemies. But now that Sovereign had shown him the truth and taught him what it really meant to live in this galaxy? Now he didn't even think twice about it.

No matter the cost, his role in the pattern had to be fulfilled. Too much was at stake for him to fail because of something as redundant as morales.

"If you give me the Cipher, her strength will be your strength," the turian replied before looking at the asari and nodding his head towards the Thorian. Much like he himself, the asari understood her role in the cycle and much like he himself, she was willing to pay the prize needed to achieve it. That was what the Reapers did to those which were fortunate enough to be chosen by them. They gave them a purpose greater than life itself.

Before he could ask himself why that thought seemed to cause his left hand to try and reach for the trigger of one of the grenades strapped to his belt or why he strangely enough wasn't trying to stop it, the next action of the prothean copy luckily snapped him and his left hand back to reality.

"Many have come to this place since the last great cycle and many tried to bargain with the Old Growth," the avatar said as it walked in between the asari and Saren, holding a hand out to both of them. "The Thorian heeded none of them."

"They didn't offer what I offer," Saren replied.

"They didn't seek what you seek," the copy retorted. "Knowledge is the Old Growth's desire as well. Before the trade is struck, it demands to know why you ask for the Cipher."

"Like I said," Saren's voice flanged. "I need it to complete my mission."

"An empty answer to the question that was asked."

Instead of trying to come up with his own reply to the thrall's copy, Saren simply decided to echo the words Sovereign handed to him. "The asari holds the answers you desire. Much like her strength, her knowledge will be your knowledge once I have the Cipher."

"So be it," the prothean avatar said in a whisper before suddenly grabbing a hold of Saren as well. As a second passed without anything happening, the turian had been about to ask what the avatar was trying to do when he felt a strange numbness come over him. Although this wasn't the first time that someone else's thoughts had joined his own, both Sovereign and the beacon having done it before, it immediately became clear that this was different than either of them. Unlike the vanguard or the beacon, the Thorian didn't seem to drown out his own thoughts or try to make his mind its own. It just seemed to offer a compromize of some kind, a new lens through which he could view the vision that had haunted his otherwise dreamless nights ever since Eden Prime. As he dared to take a glimpse at the set of images for another time, Saren felt a sense of clarity wash over him.

Now it all made sense.

Finally he understood what the beacon had been trying to tell him and how the protheans had managed to survive the last harvest.

Finally he was one step closer to fulfilling the new purpose given to him by the vanguard.

As he further embraced the calmness the Thorian offered and the knowledge the Cipher gave to him alongside it, the vision started to slow down and clear up, allowing him to pick out the pieces relevant to him. The Conduit was on a world that had never been part of the prothean star charts seized during the last opening of the Citadel Relay. Instead of being part of the register of all settled worlds, it had been a highly classified research outpost excluded from all records, which given the Conduit's nature only made sense. And although the whisper let him know that the relay that would lead to this world, Ilos, had been thrown out of its original position by a supernova four thousand years ago and was currently lost to even its creators, it also told him that there was still a way for him to find it in time.

While they might have failed to complete their own role in the pattern, the first servants of this cycle still held the next key to finding the Conduit. Although believed to have been extinct ever since the end of the war, one of them, a being that had yet to see the same truth of Sovereign and the Reapers that its ancestors had been shown over two thousand years ago, had survived the onslaught that had claimed the rest of her species, slowly growing under the ignorant watch of a corporation that had no idea how to unlock the true potential of their discovery. In time, she would serve much like the queens of old had served. He'd make sure of tha-

"Liar!" the avatar suddenly roared, tearing Saren from his thoughts just in time to see the feet of the asari disappear into the four tendrils of the Thorian's 'mouth'. "Your every breath carried the air of deception. The Thorian senses their taint upon your flesh. Their shadow has already claimed you!" it roared as the creature behind it growled and convulsed violently. "You no longer guide your own actions! You are but another thrall, serving a master lacking the benevolance of the Old Gro-" deciding that the grip of the avatar had tightened enough around his armored, a ball of purple energy manifested itself from Saren's hand, sending the copy of what had probably been the last prothean of the galaxy flying down the reactor shaft below the plant that had created it. As he heard distant footsteps and multiple sets of growls and roars that seemed to close in on their position, the Spectre turned towards one of the geth, the next set of his orders already being whispered into his mind.

"Call for reinforcements and establish a perimeter. Make sure no one else gets to the Thorian and keep it save from any who try to harm it," as he eyed the plant for a last time before beginning his walk back through the dark halls of the reactor tower, he muttered something he hoped would instill fear in this being which had avoided its fate for far too long. "Sovereign still has plans for it."

* * *

 **Three Hours Later, 7. January 2415 AD, Citadel, Presidium**

The people going about their jobs around them, the stairs leading to the chambers, the C-SEC officers standing guard to make sure it all went smoothly. All of it was still familiar to her. After all, it hadn't even been two days since she had last been in this place. For her liking, that was far too often in one week that she had been asked to speak in front of the Council.

Besides her and the turian detective, who after much discussion and a call from his superior had been convinced to answer the summoning and leave behind his only witness in exchange for presenting his findings to the Council, Alenko, Williams and Anderson were also on their way to join Ambassador Udina, who had already been talking to the councilors for the better part of the last hour. Although they were about to enter the chambers, she still wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to be doing here. Of course a debrief in regards to Fist and the quarians had come to her mind but if that was the case, there would've been no need for Anderson to join them, or at least none that she could see at the moment.

"The Council's already waiting for you, Agent Anderson," one of the C-SEC officers, a salarian with a reddish skin complexion, said as they approached the chambers, his omni-tool flashing a bright green in the process.

"Actually, it's only Captain at the moment," the dark-skinned man corrected with a shrug.

"Heard of that. Don't approve of the decision. Arterius and you did a lot for the Citadel. Disgraceful that this is how they repay you," to the salarian the small smile Anderson offered probably appeared as an appreciation of his loyalty. But she knew better than that. It served to hide the emotional turmoil the captain was most certainly going through right now. Whether he kept a secret from her alongside the director of Cerberus or not, Emily could image that this entire ordeal was much harder on him than on anyone else, especially at the moment when only a handful of people knew about Arterius' role in things and most simply worked under the assumption that the turian was still the same 'Hero of the Citadel' he had been all these years, not knowing why his longtime partner had been temporarily removed from the ranks of the Spectres or what he had been up to these last few months.

"It is what it is," Anderson shook his head before waving for them to follow him into the chambers.

Just like the last time, the meeting was a non-public one due to the highly sensitive information being discussed and just like the last time, the three councilors were standing slightly above them on their three podiums. Unlike last time however, Udina was already there and talking.

"Good. You're all here," she heard the ambassador say as the doors shut behind them. He probably had been laying the groundwork for what they were supposed to do here up to now. "Now we can finally begin with the induction procedu-" he certainly sounded eager.

"All in due time, Ambassador Udina," the lone asari in the room cut him off calmly. "Before we continue, the council will review the evidence you talked about," there was a brief pause before Councilor Irissa turned to look at her and the turian next to her. "Detective Vakarian," at the sound of her voice, the C-SEC officer seemed to stand at attention. "It is my understanding that you and Commander Shepard managed to procure a recording that incriminates Agent Saren Arterius of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of treason against the Citadel Council. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Madam Councilor."

"It is also my understanding that you have this recording on you."

"I do, Madam Councilor." Sharing a nod with her two colleagues, the asari brought up her omni-tool at that, causing a small drone to detach itself from the side of her podium. Floating towards the turian with the faint humming of a small mass effect core, the drone came to a halt in front of him, an orange, omni-tool-like interface appearing from a projector on its top.

"If you may," Emily had to give it to the asari, she had a way to make orders sound like polite requests like few others had.

"Of course," the turian said before pulling the human-made data drive from one of the small compartments of his armor, fiddling with it for a few seconds before finding the desired button that allowed the drone to access the data stored on it. Watching the orange interface to track the progress of the data transfer, Emily found herself tensing up in expectation.

She and presumably Vakarian as well didn't actually know what was on the drive. The only thing she knew for certain was that Udina had been told what it was and that it was important, or rather incriminating enough, to give him a reason to rush back to the council as fast as humanly possible to draw up some kind of response plan likely aimed at both stopping Arterius and earning some more good will before the HSA's government inevitably called him back to Arcturus for a lengthy series of interviews regarding his choice to pull the chair out form under Captain Anderson.

As a stuttering began coming from the drone, the N7 spent a brief moment thinking that the specialist might have put something to the drive to prevent this kind of access and considered to voice said concern to possibly prevent a diplomatic incident. But before she opened her mouth, she luckily realised that the strange sound was a part of the recording by picking up on the barely audible breathing in the background. After a couple more seconds filled by the same electronic sound from before had passed, a voice she was certain to belong to the missing politician began speaking.

"Eventually people will come for me. My huntresses were trained well. They will find me and they will stop you."

"If they come looking for you, their fate will be the same as yours, Councilor," a confident flanging voice replied. Although she couldn't claim to know him personally like other people in the room, she was certain that this was Saren Arterius talking.

"You believe you've won already?" the councilor replied defiantly. "Out of all people, I would've expected you to know that such a foolish mindset will cost you."

"Soon enough you'll come to realise why that won't be the case."

"Although it might appear that way, I don't fancy waiting."

Since this seemed to be an audio-only recording, Emily took the few seconds the voice paused to look around the room, taking note and trying to make sense of the expressions of the people around her. First there was Anderson who just like when they had arrived on the Citadel seemed to be the most affected. It had to be expected really. Out of everyone present, he was the one who had been closest to Arterius. She could only imagine what hearing something like this had to be like. Moving on there were the marines that had dutifully accompanied her on most of the steps of this increasingly more complicated mission, Alenko and Williams. The former looked as stoic as he appeared to be most of the times, not a crack visible in his expression. The latter not so much. While she wasn't as obviously hit by the recording as the captain, her shock was still evident. Even though it was impossible to tell, Shepard had gotten the impression that Williams had held the Spectre in high regards before Eden Prime. Although she luckily wasn't talking from personal experience, she suspected that seeing someone you looked up to fall like this was far from easy.

"The cause I've committed myself to leaves no room for failure. My success is a certainty," Arterius replied. "It has to be."

Next she looked at the councilors and Udina, all of which seemed to be doing very well with hiding the effect this recording had on them, their diplomatic backgrounds and experiences giving them an edge of the people in the room who weren't used to hiding how they felt at every turn to leverage some kind of advantage out of it. Their faces were simply straight, only the turian's mandibles seeming to be pressed against his jaw a little tighter than necessary.

"The cause you've committed yourself to is one of madness. Why do you refuse to see that?"

And finally there was the C-SEC officer, Garrus Vakarian, standing in front of the drone, its interface casting an orange shade on his grey, unmoving facial plates. As he stared at the drone in front of him, Emily couldn't say if it was the discipline most turians had drilled into their heads from an early age, his professionalism as a detective or simply the sense of having been right all along in regards to Benezia T'Soni still being alive that kept him this quiet. Realistically, it could be either of or all of the three things.

"Because the truth has blinded me to the lie we've lived all our lives, Councilor."

Returning her full attention back to the projection of the drone, a simple representation of a voice line, Emily now asked herself a very different question.

What the hell was the other turian talking about? Again, she couldn't claim to know him, but this didn't sound like something Saren Arterius would've said. This sounded like something taken straight out of some cult's manifesto. The only thing worse than a rogue Spectre was a crazy rogue Spectre.

"I fear that you're too far gone, Agent Arterius."

"If you embrace the truth and take your place at my side, I promise you that the fear will vanish."

"I'd rather choose death than watch you unleash these monsters on the galaxy."

Was she talking about the geth?

She had to be, right?

"I'm afraid you misunderstood, Councilor," another short pause followed as the flanging echoed through the silent chambers. "From here on out, none of us get to choose what we do. We are chosen and as expected of us, we will serve," as the electronic stuttering grew louder, Emily heard what sounded like a wince. "She's close to breaking, I can feel it. Continue the procedu-" as the recording turned into an increasingly louder repetition of white-noise, the N7 figured that this was all there was to the evidence the specialist had gotten from Tali.

"It was her," she heard the salarian councilor muttered. "That voice belonged to Councilor Benezia."

"Considering this recording, we have to assume that she's still alive," the turian added before turning to Irissa. "You have to inform the Republics at once. Find everyone who knew T'Soni. Someone had to know where she went before Arterius captured her."

"Sparatus, Valern," the asari sighed. "While I realise the implications of what I am about to say, I don't think that we should rush into this. We don't even know how old this recording is. For all we know Matriarch T'Soni could still be dead," the difference in how she refered to the lost councilor compared to her colleagues wasn't lost on the N7. But neither was the point she had. Ignoring what the asari stood to gain by the former councilor staying missing, Councilor Irissa was right. There was no reason to think her predecessor was still alive. Especially not after the ominous replies Arterius had given to her.

"Councilors, may I speak?" Udina asked.

"Of course, Ambassador."

"Setting aside Councilor Benezia's fate, this recording only further proves what General Arterius told us," General Arterius? Where they related or was 'Arterius' the turian equivalent of 'Smith'? Considering how these past few days had unfolded and judging by Anderson's visible reaction to the name, a clenched fist, it was likely to be the former. "we can't waste any more time than we already have. Saren has to be stopped and the people who can be trusted to do so are few and far between. So please. It's time to begin with the induction."

As the councilors shared a series of looks with each other before each nodding exactly once, Shepard wondered what was about to happen.

"Detective Vakarian, please step back," complying with the asari's 'request', the turian only removed the data drive from the drone before doing just that. Walking back to them all the while the drone returned to its original place. "Commander Emily Shepard, step forward."

Wait.

Where was this going?

Looking back to Anderson who only gave her a subtle head nudge into the direction of the councilors, Emily decided to comply. Not that there had been a lot of other options.

"Following Saren Arterius' treason against this council," the salarian continued in what was a slow pace for a member of his species, "he will have to be brought to justice. But given his long service in the Spectres and the lack of information regarding his actions, few can be trusted to face this task."

"But according to the words of your superiors and the assessment of your former supervisor, you belong to the group of people who can stop him."

Was this what she thought it was?

"Hence it is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of the Citadel."

It certainly sounded like it was.

As with a lot of things lately, she wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. Sure, she had set out to Eden Prime with the hopes of being good enough for this to become a possibility but right now, this didn't feel like it had gone down as intended. On the contrary actually, this felt like something akin to an act of desperation wrapped in a practiced speech.

"Spectres are not trained, but chosen. Individuals forged in the fires of service and battle. Those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file," Councilor Valern added before looking back at the asari.

"Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination and reliance," she said. "They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will."Or in her case, justice.

"Spectres bare a great burden," the third, turian member of the council spoke, his voice carrying a tone of command absent in the other two councilors. "They are protectors of galactic peace, both out first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold." Only now did it dawn on her that the person she was being sent after had probably been given the same speech.

"You are now a Spectre of the Citadel Council, Emily Shepard," the asari finished. "And unlike most, your first assignment will begin immediately," at this point it was probably just a formality to say it out loud. Everyone already knew what she would be ordered to do. "You are to bring in the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius and make him answer for his crimes against the Council."

"Additionally, you will also be tasked with ensuring the safe return of Councilor Benezia should she be alive," the turian councilor Sparatus threw in a second after. "And if not, to confirm her death."

"To complete this task, you will be given full access to the resources of the Spectres."

"And command of the Normandy," Udina suddenly added, causing her to glance back at Anderson who seemed to avoid her eyes as soon as he met them.

"This assignment is dangerous but we have faith that you will succeed." If that was what asari confidence was supposed to sound like, she definitely had misplaced a lot of her aunt's words of trusts as warnings over the years. "And although we know that this is an important event for your people," she added, looking at Udina, "your induction into the Spectres will have to remain a secret. At least for now."

She could see the logic behind that. Clueing Arterius off that someone new was coming to bring him in would only give up one of the few advantages she could see herself having over someone who had been survived and thrived in the most dangerous job the galaxy had to offer for nearly thirty years and who had an army of geth to back up his already impressive private resources.

Those were some great odds, weren't they?

"Finally we ask you not to delay your departure any further than necessary," the salarian finished before all three councilors looked at Udina, clariying that saying 'no' wasn't an option for her. Not that she would've done that either way. By the sound of it, far too much was riding on her stopping Arterius. She wasn't going to allow her uncertainty to get in the way of doing that. That wasn't how she had been raised.

"You're dismissed."

* * *

 **One Hour Later, Citadel, Docking Bay D-24**

"Joker says the Normandy's ready to depart the moment we get on board," Alenko said as they passed the security check-point and she continued to read about what her newfound Spectre status was clearing her to do, which was basically just about everything. "He also says he received a data-package from the Presidum."

Those were probably the Spectre intel packages Udina had told her about before ushering her out of the embassy without even giving her the chance to talk to Anderson about what the specialist had said under the guise of wanting to ask him a few more things about her new opponent.

"Good tell him to-" she was about to finish her order when she turned the corner and bumped into a blonde man who instinctively went to rub his shoulder where her armor had stopped him dead in his tracks. "I'm sorry about that," sadly a brief apology was all she had time for right now.

"Oh my god, it's you!" the man exclaimed as his painful expression vanished in turn of a bright smile. "You're Commander Shepard!" for someone who had just ran into a hardsuit rated to stop assault rifles, he certainly was cheerful. "They gave you a medal during the Blitz, didn't they?"

"Uhm," again she found herself caught of guard. "Yes, they did," the N7 replied before trying to sidestep the man, only to find him jumping into her way and extending his hand.

"I'm Conrad. Conrad Verner," he said while enthusiastically shaking her hand after she had hesitantly taken his. "And I never thought I'd meet you in person. You! The Commander Shepard! You're my hero!"

"Well, now you did," she offered with a small smile. "But I really have to g-"

"They said you killed a hundred geth on Eden Prime, is that true?" he cut her off again, his voice and the words following the question becoming background noise as she picked up on a figure that definitely didn't belong into a human military dock.

What was he doing here?

"It was nice meeting you, Konrad, but I've got to go," she muttered before slightly shoving the man to the side and marching to the blue-armored figure waiting near another security terminal manned by several C-SEC officers who unlike him definitely had a reason to be here.

"Right. Of course. Don't let me stand in your way." She hadn't planned on it. "I'll see you around!" he called as she marched past him, hoping that he wouldn't. She had her fair share of public attention after the Skyllian Blitz. Cameras and interviews had already been enough, she didn't need a number one fan to top things off.

"What are you doing here?" she asked after having covered the small distance between where she had ran into the blonde man and the C-SEC post.

"The same thing you're doing," the turian shrugged. "Following orders."

"They gave you guard duty for bringing in that kind of evidence?" Williams aksed. "Damn, talk about ungrateful."

"No. Not exactly guard duty," he shook his head before unfolding his arms and letting them dangle at his sides. "I'm supposed to join you, help you bring back T'Soni. Executor Pallin's orders."

"Executor Pallin?" While she had no problem with the turian, as far as she knew that guy or C-SEC as a whole didn't have any business interfering with a Spectre's mission. Then again, maybe she hadn't reached that part of the manual yet. There were still a hundred pages left.

"Yes. Executor Pallin," the turian nodded. "Check your omni-tool again," he added with a wave of his hand that produced a small orange interface on his own wrist.

Closing the field manual and doing just that, she found the new message she had just received, the signature of one of her new superiors, the turian councilor, acting as the finishing line to a brief notice informing her of the 'cooperative' assignment C-SEC had requested her to take part in.

"This is cleared with the ambassador?"

"He's not the one giving you orders anymore, Commander," Vakarian replied. "Right hand of the Council, remember?"

"I do now," the red-haired marine nodded. "Alenko, tell Joker that we've got a guest," she instructed. "And tell Gardner to break out the dextro supplies."

"Appreciate it," the newest, unexpected addition to her team offered.

"Don't. I heard it tastes terrible," the biotic lieutenant replied.

"You did?"

"Worked with the Cabals a couple of times. The ones who were brave enough to try it didn't exactly like our take on your food."

"Great. There goes my appetite."

"Probably for the better."

"When the two of you are done chatting about dinner," Emily injected before continuing her way to the Normandy's airlock, which at this point was just a few turns away, "we have a mission to get back-" as she turned the corner and stared at the large alien reptile waiting next to the airlock and calmly observing the ships of the Citadel Fleet passing by in front of the window, she lost her line of thought for a few seconds. "-to," she finished with a delay as the krogan turned to her.

"Told you, you'd see me again," Wrex offered with a slight smirk before reaching for the large, beaten-looking footlocker at his left side.

"Ma'am?" Williams muttered from behind her, the unspoken question as to what they should do becoming clear thanks to her tone.

"C-SEC let you out already?" Shepard asked as she looked at the bounty hunter. Although he had made his personal interest in her mission clear, namely finding out what had happened to some of his people, she hadn't actually expected him to show up again. Or find a way into a closed-off HSA military dock as a matter of fact.

"Turns out keeping me locked up in the holding cell with a bunch of drunks is not a good idea."

"They didn't even try to put you in solitary?" she heard the turian ask as he stepped up next to her.

"Would you?"

"Not without Special Response," he replied dryly.

"Heh."

"Setting aside why you're walking free," she asked. "What are you doing here?"

"You know exactly why I'm here."

"Yes I know, but I meant what you're doing here," she repeated, pointing her finger at the ground. "How did you get past the checkpoint?"

"I worked for the Broker longer than any of you've been alive. Did you really think I didn't pick up on a few tricks along the way?"

"He means that he bribed, threatened or tricked the customs staff," Vakarian offered, again reminding her why she didn't particularly like that this was the only HSA dock HSA marines weren't allowed to guard for themselves.

"Thanks, I got that. Doesn't explain why it worked."

"Customs is pretty much the worst assignment in C-SEC," the turian shrugged. "They're not going to argue with someone like him unless they absolutely have to."

"You should listen to Blue over here. He gets it," Wrex replied with another smirk that vanished quickly when he turned towards the Normandy. "You know that I want my answers and trust me when I say that I'll get them one way or another. So you either take me with you or you might end up seeing me for a third time or a fourth time."

Was he trying to blackmail her?

Looking at the krogan again, Emily came to a realisation she knew she only even considered because she technically no longer answered to the HSA's chain of command.

If she was going to go after the longest serving turian member of the Spectres, a man according to classified intel had put most other living or dead agents of the Council to shame in regards to how good he was at his job, she'd need a lot more than a couple of marines and a C-SEC detective that appeared to be jaded with his own profession. She needed a big gun. Someone who could actually take Saren Arterius on in a one-on-one fight if it came down to that. And here she was, being handed one on a silver platter in form of a biotic krogan that could probably throw a small tank if he put his mind to it. Although still not sure about the bounty hunter's intentions, from a pragmatic point of view she knew that she wasn't going to get a much better chance than this. If it came down to it, having Wrex on their side might be crucial to the success of her mission.

"It's your call, Shepard."

"Alright," she finally said. "You're in."

She'd have a lot of explaining to do once those airlock doors opened.

* * *

 **8\. January 2415 AD, Orbit Around Elysium, HSASV Makalu**

"Guard rotations, officer postings, sick calls, replacements," he listed to the MP next to him as they entered the otherwise closed-off section of the dreadnought, "hell, even the cleaning detail. I want it all. Give me the names and service records of everyone who had any business being on this deck the day it happened."

"That's a lot of people."

"And I plan to look into all of them."

"Alright," the dark-haired Colonel Salib noted before looking up from her tablet. "Anything else I can do for you, Specialist?"

"Only for you to stop calling me that from here on out. If my cover is supposed to work, you'll need to start treating me like I'm one of your guys." Redford shrugged as they came to a halt in front of the office where the admiral had been found dead in. "It's better if people don't know Section 13's aboard."

"Copy that."

"This has been opened how many times since they found the admiral?" he asked as he examined the door and counted the number of seals that had been broken before the most recent one had been taped over the lock.

"Thrice. Once by Evidence, once by the decon-team to clear any residue of the neurotoxin Evidence found and once by the Makalu's XO to retrieve Kohaku's personal belongings."

"That's a lot of people walking around a crime site."

"We limited access as much as possible but when an admiral gets poisoned in his own quarters, its bound that a few people have to get in there and pick up the pieces."

That was an ample description for what he was here to do.

Pick up the pieces, find out who amongst the crew was responsible for the murder and rat out the IFS while he was at it.

"Well," he said before slipping a small pocket knife into his hand and sliding the blade across the thin tape, "You know what they say. Fourth time's the charm."

"That's not what they say and from now your sentences should always end with Ma'am or Colonel," Salib replied dryly as the door opened, causing him to turn back to her. "What? You wanted to be treated like one of my men, so that's what I'm doing."

"Fair enough,Ma'am," the blonde specialist offered before pulling another non-standard issue item from one of the pockets of the set of marine combat fatigues he had donned for the time being. Putting the pair of shades on and watching their HUD built a holographic depiction of how the room had looked before the evidence group and decontamination teams had done their job, Redford rubbed the back of his hand with the other before interlocking his fingers and stretching his arms forward. "Let's get to work."

"I still don't see why you want to take another look at the room. I thought you read all the reports on the way here. Do you think my guys worked sloppy?"

"No, that's not it, Ma'am. Far from it, actually. They did a spectacular job."

"Then what?"

"Unlike your guys, Ma'am" he offered while walking towards the piece of the floor where he saw a holographic depiction of Kohaku's dead body and the broken shards of glass that had been found near his hand, "I'm usually the bloke you try to find after something like this happens."

* * *

 _Codex: Feros_

 _Hailed as the single greatest prothean discovery besides the Citadel and the Mass Relay network, two-thirds of the planet's surface is covered by a single megalopolis evidently designed to draw water from an equally enormous but even less explored aqueduct system leading all the way from the equator to the icy pools of the planet._

 _Although protected by law and semi-frequent patrols in the area, Feros' city has been subject to looters on countless occasions. Furthermore its vast distance from the Council's heart territory, questionable state of the structures themselves, some of which have spontaneously collapsed in the past and added to the dozens of meters of fallen debris covering the planet's ground level and unexplained disappearances of science teams venturing too far away from the few small outposts still present on the planet have made it a very unattractive goal for all but the most determined archeologist._

 _Although Feros is considered to be a garden world in every regard, it should be noted that indigenous flora and fauna are mostly unheard of. The most common and likely explanation for this phenomenon is that the prothean construction effort required to build this kind of megalopolis likely eradicated most of the native species by permanently altering Feros' original state, leaving behind only a number of invasive species like varren which likely first arrived on the planet alongside looters or pirates._

 _In 2415 AD/2156 CE a number of research outposts existed on the surface of Feros all of which had to be abandoned following [This information has been redacted by the authority of the Citadel Council]._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Yes. I'm late. As always**

 **I knew I said 2-3 chapters per month.. roughly one month ago.**

 **Turns out I horribly misjudged how much time I'dhave left at the end of every day, a state that will continue until the first week of june after which I HOPEFULLY will become more productive again.**

 **My very low personal goal for until then is ONE more chapter, namely the next one.**

 **Alright enough of this.**

 **Let's talk chapter (I say it like that because after chapter talk, I've got something else to say that's been kind of time consuming)**

 **So, we are finally OFF the Citadel and Wrex and Garrus are onboard for reasons very different than canon (this is a hint that you should start paying attention to one of the two a bit more carefully, maybe some of you'll figure out what I'm talking about before it's actually spilled out in the one POV scene planned for that). Tali, for obvious reasons isn't along for the ride... yet. Sorry all Tali fans but you don't recover from being shot that fast.**

 **For those of you waiting on Liara...**

 **Soon.**

 **Like, next chapter soon probably.**

 **Additionally to the beginning of our journey (hence the titel, some of you might know where its from), we also got to see Saren again.**

 **On Feros.**

 **With a bit of a twisted version of the Thorian that's mostly based on the fact that I PERSONALLY always had the impression that the thorian acted the way it did in ME 1 to Shepard because of what Saren had done to it, namely sent the geth after it, implying that before it was JUST an arrogant, know it all puppeteer parasite that actually gave a shit about its puppet and not... well kind of a dick who tries to murder everyone.**

 **Additionally to Feros and the Citadel, which again I am glad it's over.. don't get me wrong, I liked writing it but it kind of dragged at the end there) we finally managed to get into Redford's storyline, which as some of you may have deduced by now, will be kind of a sidestory and more importantly... drumroll please**

 **A polticial murder mystery.**

 **Yeah.**

 **It's gonna be far removed from the whole reaper stuff, obviously.**

 **Now, of course I won't get all NCIS on you. The main focus of that arc is going to be on the IFS/HSA dynamic and how the Skyllian Blitz and namely the way it ended (I told you all it'd have consequences) kind of messed with the HSA's military.**

 **So yeah.**

 **For those of you who liked the more political intrigue stuff of SV, that's gonna be the shit.**

 **Promise.**

 **Jesus, it took way longer than expected (not in chapters but in real life time) to get here.**

 **But again. Real life keeps catching up to me.**

 **NOW**

 **After chapter talk.**

 **Something else that I've been thinking about for quite some time now, basically ever since I realised Semper Vigilo is picking up, is what else I want to do with this universe while I write the story and AFTER I'm done with the main plots of all games.**

 **And after a lot of consideration, the idea that won is this.**

 **Eventually, I don't know when, I'll start publishing (note not writing or collecting ideas) another fanfic that's going to consist of tie-in stories related to the main story. Now, to put it into a better perspective, these will be short stories (either single chapters or a couple of chapters each) loosley connected to each other taking place DURING, BEFORE, and... possibly (no spoilers) AFTER the events of Semper Vigilo and will focus on characters that don't necessarily get so many pov chapters in this fic.**

 **The main inspiration for this was an Avatar episode some of you might know: "Tales of Ba Sing Se" and for the sake of disclosure, the idea that it won over was a Fringe Wars Prequel... once I realised that I can totally put Fringe Wars chapters into what's currently dubbed "Semper Vigilo, A Series of Loosely Connected Stories." (We'll work on the name.)**

 **So. Just a little sneak-peak at what may come.**

 **IF there's an interest for it to start somewhat sooner, the current plan is that I might publish the first single-chapter story of this new project at the end of the year. (Since it's not really set during the events of what's to come I feel free to say that it's gonna take place during the Krogan Rebellions and have a salarian character in it, guess with that what you want, here's a hint tho, it's based on a codex line.)**

 **IF there isn't, it's only gonna see the light of day when I'm done with ME 1.**

 **So yeah.**

 **That's gonna happen eventually.**

 **But the main focus will of course stay on SV. For anyone that got scared, this story is still happening and it's the main focus of my attention. We will go all the way to then end and it's gonna be awesome.**

 **For the record we're at 443 Reviews, 694 Favorites and 785 Follows.**

 **That's huge. Almost 700 favorites and almost 800 follows.**

 **Soon.**

 **See you around next time.**


	53. Whatever it Takes

**Chapter 53: Whatever It Takes**

* * *

 **8\. January 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy**

"Let me get this straight. You hired a krogan mercenary?" the pilot of the Normandy asked as his hands danced across the holographic interfaces in front of him with practiced ease, their motions swift and fluid. "Bold move, Commander."

"I didn't hire him, Joker," she replied, keeping the smart-ass comment that to hire him would mean that the krogan would get paid for his service to herself. "He offered his help and given who we're up against, I took it," she added with a shrug. "Now, do you know where this is or not?" she asked, returning to the initial reason she had made her way to the bridge in the first place. The navigation data that had just arrived. She had come here to find out where her first mission would take place and what would be the first step on the way of stopping the rogue Spectre she had been tasked with stopping.

"I will once it gets encrypted," the pilot replied from his seat, his eyes remaining fixed on the consoles in front of him. "Which I'm pretty sure only you can do," he added before a swipe of his hand caused another hologram to pop up almost right in her face and demanding her to enter her N7 access code.

"Wait, this is HSA intel?" she asked as she recognized the burning torch emblem of HSAIS and subsequently thought back to her last, rather unpleasant encounter with an agent of the intelligence service for a few seconds.

"Of course it is," Joker shrugged. "What did you think I was talking about?"

"I figured it'd be Spectre intel," she replied, somewhat surprised.

"Hah. Good one, Commander," the pilot chuckled. "As if they'd ever sent Spectre intel to me."

Quickly entering the desired code and only briefly wondering why the pilot of one of the two most modern stealth frigates in the HSA's navy didn't seem to have the same security clearance as an N7 officer, of which there were far more in existence than stealth frigate helmsmen, Emily watched as the data encrypted itself.

"You got it?" she asked when the procedure had finished.

"Yep. I got it."

"So," she replied while looking at the digits and letters in front of her. "Where exactly is it that we're going?" Much like the theoretically subversive nature of her last mission, knowing how to navigate the mass relay network wasn't part of her job description.

"The Artemis Tau cluster by the looks of it," that name she had heard before. Located on the thin line that divided the Fringe Worlds and the Attican Traverse from the rest of HSA space, the Artermis Tau cluster had become famous or rather infamous for one thing.

It, or rather the Sparta System located inside of it, had been the site of one of the Fringe Wars largest space battles and, as a lot of the older HSA naval officers remembered, the site of one of the navy's single worst defeats only rivaled by the Dark Thursday of '78. In spite of their very real numerical superiority and at least theoretical technologic age, the Fifth Fleet had suffered a terrible blow at the hands of what had supposedly been nothing but a small reconnaissance flotilla, earning itself the rather unfortunate and very much disliked nickname of Fleeing Fifth that, in certain, very wrong and questionable circles, still stuck to this day. Additionally, the battle was still presented to this day just how destructive of a bottleneck a mass relay could be if the enemy was already waiting for you to come through it and how little protection escape pods and shuttles offered if cruisers and frigates exploded around them. Amongst other things, that was one of the reasons she was glad she did most of her fighting on solid ground. While being a ground pounder was statistically more dangerous, it still also lowered the risk of her life ending at the hands of vacuum exposure.

Deciding to move away from that morbid line of thought and back to the situation at hand, Emily looked away from the hologram and back to Joker, who was still completely focused on his own work.

"So," Joker said, mirroring her own tone from earlier while moving several of the holograms out of his view. "What exactly is it that we're gonna do in Artemis Tau?"

"Good question," she offered with a shrug and a smile. "I'm afraid I know exactly as much as you, Lieutenant. Remember? I thought it this was Spectre intel."

"Right."

"Right."

"So I'll just take us there?" he asked, turning away from the holograms in front of him for the first time.

"In one piece, please," she replied, nudging her head back to the controls of the frigate.

"Respectfully, Commander," he countered, catching her hint and turning back around but not before offering a somewhat cocky smirk. "I could fly this ship one-handed and blind and still get us there in one piece."

"Oh, I believe you." She knew that he was one of the best, otherwise he wouldn't be sitting here to begin with. "But I and everyone else not strapped into a harness right now are not in any rush to see you do that."

"Yet," he added with a chuckle. "One day you'll want to see it and you better believe that I'll deliver."

"Let's save the betting for when we're not hunting a rogue Spectre, alright, Lieutenant?"

"Copy that, Ma'am."

With that the N7 decided to leave the bridge behind her and see if she could figure out what the purpose behind these coordinates were. Quickly remembering where the comm-room was before making her way there, Emily didn't exactly go far far before realising that something else would get in the way of those answers for now. Or rather, someone else.

"Commander," the biotic marine that had accompanied her these last couple of days called right as he stepped out of the opening elevator with some other crew members, who unlike him immediately went to their assigned postings. "I've been looking for you."

"That usually doesn't mean anything good," she replied from personal experience. Most of the times a subordinate was looking for their superior, it was to sort out something they themselves couldn't fix. "Please tell me this isn't about Wrex breaking something," she sighed, "or someone," given her impression of the krogan that addition felt necessary. Although she wasn't going to second-guess her decision of accepting his help, it didn't exactly require a lot of mental gymnastics to create a scenario where a krogan mercenary would get into a fight with someone on a human warship. Most people didn't like to admit it but krogan were far from popular with the majority of her people ever since the Blood Pack, a mostly krogan outfit, had murdered thousands of human colonists shortly after first contact had been made between the HSA and the Council. Imagining that a couple of marines would try and pick a fight with the krogan and that Wrex would give them what they were looking for wasn't all that hard.

"It's not," that was a relieve. No broken bones meant no work for Doctor Chakwas and that was a good thing. "Besides, I don't think he'll get into trouble any time soon. When I talked to him earlier he was hanging around the observation deck, staying as far away from the rest of the crew as possible."

"Wait. You talked?"

"Yes. It was quite interesting actually. He told me a bit about his home, his people. He's got exactly as many stories as you'd expect from someone his age."

"Sounds like you're becoming friends with the new kid pretty quickly, Alenko," she offered jokingly.

"I wouldn't go as far as calling us friends just yet," the lieutenant countered noticeably more serious. "The conversation did end with him telling me to get lost."

"Alright. Rude."

"From my limited sample size, I'd actually say that it was pretty polite by his standards," the dark-haired man offered with a shrug. "Either way, it's not about befriending him. In my experience it's important to get to know the people you fight with, even if they don't like you," Emily could agree with that notion. "And by the looks of it, he's here to stay so getting to know his is what I'll do." She should probably do the same when she got the chance to. if anything it'd help her judge when and how she could count on the krogan to be at his best. But before she got a read on the bounty hunter, she had to figure out why HSAIS was sending her to Artemis Tau and to do that she had to figure out what Alenko wanted from her.

No reason in talking around it, was there?

"So if it isn't Wrex you wanted to talk about then?" she intentionally left the question open-ended, offering Alenko his chance to get back on topic on his own.

"It's the turian."

"Vakarian?" She honestly hadn't expected him to be a problem. "What about him?" she added.

"I know this is going to sound out-of-line considering that he's here under the Council's orders but," the biotic paused for a moment as if to look over his shoulders to check if someone was listening in on them. When he was satisfied with his conclusion, he continued, "I don't trust him." And a third surprise. This had to stop happening.

"Why not?" she asked in a more serious tone. If one of her officers had a problem with someone they'd be working with, she was going to drop her somewhat relaxed style of command. Especially if the complaint was someone who was as professional as Alenko seemed to be. If he was talking about trust issues, she doubted that it was because he just happened to dislike the turian.

"When I tried talking to him yesterday, I found him in the armory, typing some kind of report. When he saw me, he just pretended like nothing had been going on. To me it looked like he was keeping tabs on the crew and the ship, seeing where we stand and all."

"Well, he is a detective," she offered. "Being suspicious is probably second nature," the commmander replied. "Besides, he's got superiors of his own who probably want to know what's going on with his assignment."

"I know, Ma'am but from what I saw that wasn't the kind of report you sent to keep brass satisfied. It was more meticulous than that. Kind of like a strength assessment really."

"What are you saying, Alenko?"

"To me it looked like the kind of thing you'd do if you want to spy on someone, Ma'am."

"Alright," the N7 nodded. "But what would he want to spy on? The turians helped built this ship. Last time I checked, they even had two of their -" catching what the biotic was suggesting halfway through her sentence, her expression turned a bit darker. "You think C-SEC might have been compromized after all, don't you?"

"They made you a Spectre because they didn't know how deep Arterius' influence ran, didn't they?"

"They did."

"Before you get the wrong idea, this isn't about him being a turian. I trained with cabals, fought with cabals. It's just that-"

"No. I get what you're saying. If there's a chance that C-SEC has been compromized, there's also a chance that the guy who just happens to join us just as we're about to leave might be a mole. Given the situation it's something we have to consider," she cut him off for both their sakes. There was no need for him to add a justification to his observation, not in the situation they were. "But still. Let's keep this between ourselves for now. At this point, everything we say is pure speculation. There's no need to blow this out of proportion, especially not if you just got the wrong impression."

"Of course. I just figured you should know."

"And you were right. I should," she said, eyeing the comm-room behind the tall marine. "Listen, there's something I have to do right now but if you notice anything else or god forbid find proof of it being like you said, you come straight to me, okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he nodded.

"Good," she returned the gesture. "Now. As I was saying. Stuff to do," she concluded with a smile and a nudge of her head that was supposed to clue him off that he was kind of standing in her way right now and that she didn't think that squeezing past him would've been all that appropriate. Evidently, the gesture didn't work as intended. Instead of taking a step to the left, the biotic just looked at her, probably wandering where exactly her damage was. "Said stuff kind of has to happen back there," she finally offered before pointing behind him.

"Oh. I see," the biotic realised before making the desired room. "Apologies, Ma'am," he offered as she walked past him.

"Oh and about the Ma'am, Alenko," she said while turning around to face him all the while walking backwards to the comm-room, "if it's just us, Shepard's fine by me as well."

"Alright," he replied before finally returning her smile.

"Alright," Emily repeated, glad to apparently have managed to make a crack in the shell of the biotic. "I'll talk to you later, Alenko. Take care."

"I will," with that, she turned back on her heel just in time to open the door in front of her, allowing her to enter a more secluded part of the ship and in turn giving her the much needed chance to work her head around this next piece of information.

Great.

One of her lieutenants suspecting what could now be called her colleague of being a mole for what was probably the deadliest, most adaptive foe she was ever going to face.

Yeah.

She could've done without that problem ever surfacing.

He had to have misinterpreted something, right? There wasn't actually a mole on her crew already, was there?

Sure, he seemed a bit jaded with C-SEC but the impression she had gotten of Detective Garrus Vakarian had been a good one. Behind the layer of a disillusioned cop, he appeared to have a decent head on his shoulders. At least that was the conclusion she had come to after their talk in the medical wing.

But as with many things, conclusions could be wrong. Especially when it came to people.

Wiping her hand over the opening mechanism of the comm-room's door and figuring that she was going to get a second impression as soon as she was done here, the N7 had been about to call the one person she figured would know why HSAIS would sent her intel while she was waiting for the Spectres to do that, namely Ambassador Udina, when her omni-tool buzzed with a message.

"Talk to me, Joker," she asked.

"I got a call coming through for you, Commander. You should get to the comm-room."

"Coincidentally, I'm already there. Put it through now."

"Copy that," as the line closed as suddenly as it had opened, the room went through the familiar process of darkening itself before constructing a pale blue depiction of a person.

"Commander Shepard," the voice made it clear who was calling her even before the shape of the director had assembled completely. "Or do you want it to be agent now? I heard about your promotion. Congratulatioins."

"Thanks. And commander's juts fine," she replied. "What do you want, Director?"

"Besides congratulating you on becoming the second human Spectre in history?" he returned in the same calm tone he had picked the last time they had talked. "To talk about your assignment."

"I'm not sure I can tell you about th-"

"You're chasing after Agent Saren Arterius in hopes of rescuing Councilor Benezia T'Soni who you believe to be his captive. To achieve that task, you were expecting the first set of Spectre intelligence to show up by now," the man paused as she saw his hologram draw in a breath of smoke from the cigarette he was holding, "To save us both some time in the future, I think from here on out you should always work under the assumption that with me you won't have to worry about what's classified or not," he added after blowing out a bit of smoke too fine to be properly portrayed by the projector, causing it to appear as a number of disturbed pixels dancing around right in front of his mouth. "Nine out of ten times I already know and the one time I don't, I'll hear it right when we're done talking."

Ignoring the fact that she really would've liked to point out how that stood in violation to security clearances, Emily realised that she should've known that he'd her own suspicions from their first conversation, the advice of the specialist should've been enough of a clue to see this coming.

"I take it you're the reason I'm going to Artemis Tau?" she asked, refraining from confronting him about what the HSAIS agent had said just yet. There's be a time and a place for that but it wasn't right now. She had enough on her plate already, she'd save the paranoia about her superiors for a later point.

"Perceptive. I like it," the man pointed out as he sat down in a chair that was only being assembled by the projector when he made contact with it, causing it to seem like he was sitting on nothing but thin air for a few seconds. "Yes, I was the one who suggested that your first stop should be the Knossos System," so that was their exact destination. Good to know. Hopefully Joker was going against regulations and eavesdropping. It'd save her the trip back to the bridge.

"Why?"

"Because someone who will prove herself to be exceptionally useful to your mission is currently working there alongside one of my field teams. Extracting her should be your first priority even after the Spectre intel reaches you," the director said as he placed the cigarette into what was likely an ashtray sitting just out of view.

"And who may that someone be?" she asked as the man folded his hands in his lap.

"An archeologist," he replied.

"An archeologist is going to prove useful to my mission?"

"Yes."

"How exactly?"

"You could call her an acquaintance of Arterius and the councilor," he replied cryptically.

* * *

 **Early 2156 CE, Knossos System, Therum, Cerberus Research Camp**

"No, no, that won't work either. Everything we observed up to now suggests we'd just trigger a safety mechanism that might make any further access impossible," the asari replied as her eyes remained fixed on the dozens of small silver tiles that made up the airlock-like 'room' in the center of this prothean ruin, trying to find something she hadn't noticed the last hundred times she had looked at every last one of them and tried to make sense of all of their details down to the last scratch.

"I don't know what else to tell you, Doc. It's literally the only thing we haven't tried yet," a member of the science team she had been asked to accompany by General Arterius after her last 'field trip' with his brother, replied after letting out a long drawn sigh and scratching his reddish beard. "It worked before, didn't it?"

"Yes. High-powered energy surges have been successful at reactivating dormant prothean artifacts in the past," she replied. "But none of those artifacts displayed properties even remotely similar to this room. Given that it already seems to be drawing power from our generators by some unknown method, I'm worried that a sudden surge might overload whatever inner circuitry is responsible for this absorption. I'm sorry Doctor Gregor, but it's simply far too risky."

"Considering what happened on Eden Prime, I think we're far beyond the point where we're concerned with risky. You know just as much as I do that time is a luxury we can't afford right now."

Eden Prime.

That was only one the thoughts she had been blending out through her work.

Or at least tried to do so.

Truthfully, she had known this assignment wouldn't manage to distract her the way she had hoped it would. Even as a child, she had never been good at not thinking about things. And that had been way before the fate of the galaxy had been at stake and her own personal life had gone through changes she hadn't expected to occur for at least another couple of centuries.

As she waved her hand through the air to look at the first instance of them noticing that the artifact in front of her seemed to siphon energy from their generators for a reason she had yet to uncover but suspected to be some kind of internal power storage, she also gave in to the wave of thoughts that had been crashing against the little dam she had been trying to built for some time now.

While the civilized part of the galaxy was still trying to piece together why the geth would leave the Perseus Veil for the sole purpose to attack a human world before playing hide-and-seek with several fleets of human and turian warships in the Attican Traverse, the young archeologist and the science team she was working with already knew the answer. After all she had played a major role in putting together the pieces that had allowed General Arterius and Director Harper to know what was going on and the people around her were all desperately looking for some kind of answer for what could be called the most pressing issue in galactic history. An impending invasion of the as of yet unknown but still exceedingly powerful species responsible for wiping out the protheans some fifty thousand years ago.

As she found the set of logs where the observation had first been made, she read over the report again and again to confirm that it was actually what she was looking for. After making sure that it could be used to support her opposition of using a power surge to force some kind of reaction of what she was starting to suspect to be some kind of likely outdated mining technology and not the kind of data storage or experimental shielding technology Doctor Gregor hoped it would turn out to be, she turned back to the human scientist.

"Just look at how little power it's actually drawing," she said, hoping that a task at hand would stop her from thinking about the other things, or rather people, that the wave was trying to bring with it, "dormant or not, a sudden power surge would most certainly trigger an internal fuse. Going through with this plan would either shut down the artifact completely or outright destroy it. I know that you're eager to find answers," all of them, including her, were, "but doing this won't bring us anywhe-"

"Doctor T'Soni?" a familiar voice asked, causing her to turn around to face the somewhat heavy-set technician it belonged to, his round face lacking its usual smile.

"Jesus, Pete, can't you see we're talking here," her colleague began, a hint of annoyance in his tone. It wasn't the malevolent kind and if she hadn't had decades of practicing how to not let stress affect her during her work, she might've reacted the same way.

"I know. I'm sorry, Doc. But this is important," he said, climbing up the stairs to join them in front of the artifact. "There's an urgent call for you in the comm-room, Doctor T'Soni."

"From whom?" she asked while another wave of her hand caused the orange hologram of her omni-tool to vanish, letting the argument slide into the background for now.

"They didn't say, they just told me to get you right now."

That certainly sounded cryptic.

Although she had been left out of the loop in regards to most things, the unsanctioned field trip she had taken with the two Spectres severely limiting how much the general seemed to trust her at the moment, the fact that it was sounding this cryptic was giving her hope. A disproportionately large number of the people who had been keeping her out of the loop liked to behave like this for a reason she still wasn't entirely capable of understanding. Whether it was tracking her down on Thessia or waiting for her in her room, both Arterius brothers, one of which she hadn't actually spoken to or heard from in months, were the kind of people who'd indulge in this kind of secrecy.

Aware how her heart seemed to skip a beat at the prospect of continuing the field investigation she had started a few months ago, she only threw a short look at the prothean artifact in front of her before turning to the human scientist, not entirely sure what it said about her that a piece of previously completely unknown prothean technology was no longer enough to keep her from ignoring everything else like it had been in the past.

"I'll be right there," Liara said while making her way down the stairs. "And please. Don't do anything to the artifact until I'm back," she added after a moment of recalling a result of her limited observation of the species. While she was aware that she shouldn't generalize, the last few months had led her to the conclusion that humans seemed to have difficulties with not doing something that could potentially trigger destructive consequences. In a more quiet moment the xenoanthropologist in her might've spent a moment or two to muse how they had managed to get to where they were right now, a young civilization rising through the ranks of galactic politics in a speed never seen before in history, without blowing themselves up along the way or pander on what would have happened if her own people had adopted even a portion of this seemingly natural tendency to take risks at an early point in their own development.

But as things were, now was not a quiet moment.

It was an exciting one.

"Did they say what it was about when they sent you to get me, Pete?" she asked as her feet carried her down the makeshift stairs quick enough to cause the human to have to jog to catch up with her.

"No. They only said that it was urgent," the technician replied as they walked through the familiar grey, circular halls of the ruin and began making their towards where the human research outpost had built up its communication hub, if one could dare and call a couple of antennas and a hologram projector set up in the prothean equivalent of a broom closet a communication hub.

"And you really don't know who it is?" she asked on their way through the security checkpoint that had been set up between the center of the ruin where the mysterious artifact was located and the rest of the base that now served as the makeshift laboratories, quarters and administrative rooms of their expedition, the inhospitable volcanic outside of Therum's surface causing the rare exception of archeologists forgoing to live in a camp otuside of their dig site and instead move into the object of their desire.

"Come on, Doc. You know I would've told you if I did." Yes. She knew. Liara might not have been a very socially active person but even from her limited experience she had been able to figure out that the burly human had become especially fond of her ever since she had arrived on Therum one and a half months ago, an observation she had of course never used to her own advantage. That would've been more than just uncalled for.

"Of course," the archeologist replied as they passed the checkpoint under the watchful eye of one of the armed guards, the rifle loosely dangling from the harness of the human's body armor just one of the dozens or so small things that reminded her each day how this dig was very different from the civilian ones she had been part of before.

"Sorry, Doc," the human offered as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand before coming to a stop in front of the comm-room.

"Don't be," she offered a brief smile before a wave of her hand allowed her omni-tool to interface with the opening mechanism of the door. "Well?" she asked as the doors came apart, the bluish light of the human-made hologram projector already flooding out of the darkened room. "Aren't you coming?"

"I'd love to but no," Pete dismissed the notion, surprising her. "This is as far as I can go," he added before nudging his head towards the fine blue lines originating from a small orb at the top of the door. As they brushed against where his omni-tool was clipped to his working fatigues, subsequently producing a rather loud beeping noise before turning read, the technician frowned. "Security clearance around here is a bitch," he explained. "Guess I'll see you around, eh?"

"Yes, you will," she nodded before turning around again and stepping into the room, her presence evidently being registered as the door shut behind her, its lock hissing surprisingly loudly in the process of assuring no one would be able to eavesdrop. This certainly was shaping up to be a unique conversation.

If anything, this level of secrecy was giving her even more hope that she'd join the Spectre on another expedition. In all the time she had known them, only the younger Arterius had gone through such troubles before talking to her.

"Doctor T'Soni," a flanging voice greeted, its familiar tone filling her with excitement right until she recognized that the turian hologram standing in front of her was the depiction of someone older and far more scarred than Saren Arterius.

"General Arterius."

So much for continuing what she had started several months ago.

Still, if the man who had sent her here had something to say, she'd listen. Maybe it'd surprise her. Maybe his trust in he rhad returned and she'd be welcomed back into the fold.

"I take it you're alone?" it was only now that she noticed how uncharacteristically tired the older turian sounded. And now that she had noticed it in his voice, she was also starting to see it on his face. Goddess, it looked like he had aged nearly twenty years since she had last spoken to him.

"Yes, I am."

"Good," he replied, still sounding more strained than she had ever seen him be, which in itself was saying a lot because there had been several occasions during the Skyllian Blitz during which she had been sure that he had called her straight from the frontline of the war. "What I'm about to tell you can't ever leave this room," he had said that several times before, yet never sounded as serious as before.

Was it something big?

Would she be able to get off of Therum and continue her investigation?

Would she be able to-

"Do you understand me, Doctor?" the general's rough voice tore her from her thoughts.

"Yes, I understand. Whatever it is that you have to say, it will not leave this roo-"

"Saren has been turned against us."

The interruption was as sudden and brief as it was shocking. As her eyes widened in wake of the news, the asari scientist suppressed the gasp that had been sneaking up on her, managing to keep up a facade of calm while her brain began spinning out of control.

Saren?

Turned against them?

"He's working with the geth, likely under the influence of the same indoctrination we've observed before."

The geth?

They had been tracking geth the last time they had been together.

Had he gone after them again and gotten himself captured?

When?

How?

Was she somehow to blame for it?

"After receiving evidence proving his treason and involvement in the attack on Eden Prime, he has been declared a rogue Spectre by the Council. Another operative is beginning her hunt for him as we speak. She has been ordered to stop him. To achieve that, his survival has been ranked optional."

He had been the one behind the attack on Eden Prime?

Why would he do that? Besides the obvious indoctrination of course.

It had to have something to with what the Harbinger had been trying to do.

If only she knew more about the attack on Eden Prime other than that it had happened, she might've been able to figure out.

As the questions began to stack up, she made another realisation.

How in the Athame's name could it be that General Arterius was delivering this news so calmly and detached? Saren was his own brother. Yet he was talking about him like he was just another enemy, like none of this affected him in any way.

Suppressing emotions like that couldn't possibly have been healthy, could it?

"I called you to inform you that you are to report directly to me if he makes any further attempts to contact you."

"I don't understa-"

"Also, I called to inform you that a new discovery has been made in regards to the whereabouts of your mother. It is probably best if you sit down," he added more sympathetic than before. As a hint of softness returned into the general's otherwise exhausted tone, Liara found herself confronted with the other topic she had been avoiding.

Her mother's sudden disappearance and likely death.

Although they hadn't been close for years and the last time they had actually spoke to each other had been a scolding regarding her expedition with the Spectre, the news that she was missing had still hit Liara completely unprepared, sending her in a state of confusion, grief and ultimately refusal to deal with the most likely scenario that involved accepting that her mother, her only parental figure, was dead. As she preapred herself to hear that her frozen corpse had been recovered in the mangled remains of a spaceship, she did her best to put up a brave face, somehow feeling obliged to at least show a fraction of the composure General Arterius was showing despite telling her about how a Spectre was trying to kill her brother as they were speaking.

"I would but there are no chairs here," she replied meekly after a moment, her voice cracking in the process.

So much for putting up a brave face.

"We think your mother is alive," as she was about to ask how they could possibly know that, the next sentence of the general crushed her in a way she hadn't expected it to. "And we also think that she's being held captive by my brother."

"I don't understand. How could you know that?" Liara asked in return, nearly stumbling over her own words.

"Following his attack on Eden Prime, we managed to recover a recording which proves that your mother was taken captive by Saren at some point in the past. Likely with the goal of being turned as well," as the general observed the range of emotion unfolding on her face, she noticed his own features soften, at least as much as the plates that covered his face allowed them to. "I am truly sorry."

"Don't b-" she had been about to reply when a sudden shock traveled through the entire facility, the force behind it sending her flying to the ground and causing all power, including that of the holographic table, to be lost in an instant, drowning the room in complete darkness.

The first thought that shot through her mind, dispersing those regarding her mother and Saren, was that someone had ignored her warning and attempted the power surge. As she tried to get up, something she failed to do at first thanks to something very heavy pressing down on her legs, the asari felt her biotics flare up in a natural response to the heightened levels of adrenaline being released throughout her body. Focusing on her biotic abilities and reinforcing the purple field as a response to the natural reaction, the steelbar that had been keeping her on the ground effortlessly floated into the air, allowing her to crawl to freedom. As she climb over the debris and, through the light of her omni-tool, find her way to the door just in time for the emergency power to kick in and flood the whole room in red light, Liara brought up the communications channel on her omni-tool in an attempt to call for aid after realising that the door wouldn't open on its own.

"This is Doctor T'Soni, I'm trapped in the comm-room. Can someone pleas-" as a burst of incredibly loud electronic feedback flooded out of the earpiece attached to her omni-tool, Liara shrieked in pain exactly as long as it took her to tear the small wire out of her ear. Feeling another shock travel through the facility not a moment, this one slightly less powerful than the first one, Liara struggled to stay on her feet.

Goddess, what was going on here?

As she picked up on what sounded like a cry for help followed by gunshots on the outside, the shock evidently having managed to break the seal of the door, the archeologist swallowed at the realisation slowly creeping up her spine.

They were under attack.

* * *

 **Early 2156 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point**

"Doctor T'Soni, can you hear me?" he asked again, raising his voice ever so slightly this time, the frozen hologram still showing no respone. "Damnit," he cursed. This was bad. A dozen things could lead to a transmission cutting of this suddenly and all of them involved an attack of some kind. "Veltax! Get in here!"

"What is it, General?" the other Blackwatch operative asked as he came shooting through the door not a second later, his hand clutching the Carnifex that was usually attached to his belt in spite of how unlikely it was for an assailant to get to him in here or survive the ensuing fight with a trained Blackwatch operative.

"The line to Doctor T'Soni just collapsed and I think it's because she's under attack. I need you to get Melion and tell him that he needs to contact the Normandy. They have to hurry up."

"Right away, Sir!"

As the sergeant ran out of the office to execute his orders, Desolas fought the urge to throw the terminal sitting in front of him into the hologram projector. As more curses flew out of his mouth, most in Pallian and a few in the native tongue of his home Elapri, a language which the Hierarchy had given up on trying to fully eradicate several centuries ago, the general shoved his chair back and began walking through the room.

He should've known this would happen.

Saren had tried to get to her once before, of course he'd try again. She seemed to be vital to whatever mission it was that the Harbinger had indoctrinated him into trying to fulfill and a Blackwatch soldier wasn't going to give up on something important to his assignment, at least not this easily. Cursing himself again for thinking that hiding the doctor in a somewhat secluded portion of human space would've been enough to stop someone like his brother, Desolas came to a halt in front of the frozen projection of the asari scientist, her face stuck mid-sentence, blissfully unaware of whatever had happened next.

If he took her, if he turned her like he had turned her mother, it'd be on him again. Another one of the people who had looked up to him to lead them against the Harbinger turned against their allies because of a call he had made.

As he silenced the rage begging him to simply slam his fist into the projector and cause the image to disappear much like he'd silence an insubordinate soldier, the general kept staring at the projection for a few more moments before turning on his heel and marching back to the terminal, entering a series of calculations before looking at the result.

For a large fleet, it'd be the better part of a week before they'd reach Therum.

But for the love child of human ingenuity and turian engineering? When flown by some of the best sailors the Hierarchy could offer?

It'd be significantly less than that.

Spirits, they might just beat the Normandy if the current trajectory he had assumed for it was correct.

Entering a set of commands before opening a line to the part of his legion that was tasked with maintaining Blackwatch's means of transportation, Desolas made his decision.

"Captain Hikarus, ready your ship," he spoke, not even bothering to ask how long it would take the naval officer to do so. He knew exactly how many minutes that procedure would take, he had been the one to set the requirement. Being who he was, Hikarus would likely still get his crew to beat the current record.

"At once, General," a single sentence came back to him before the line closed itself again.

Saren was his brother. He had been turned against him by an enemy of unfathomable might because Desolas himself had pushed him down the road of desperation.

It was something he was never going to be able to take back.

What he could do however, was to try and make it right.

He could try and stop his brother.

And if that failed, a scenario he forced himself to consider in preparation for the consequence it carried, he could avenge him.

"Veltax," he spoke into his omni-tool on his way to the door. "Get Galviat and Callius. Tell them to meet us at the Parnack's dock."

"Yes, Sir."

He'd make this right.

Even if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 9. January 2415 AD, Cronos Station**

"Considering that the Normandy and the commander are gone, I take it the data drive got the job done?"

"Yes. Delivering the recording to the Council proved to be the incentive we hoped it'd be," Director Rei replied. "They made Commander Shepard a Spectre on the spot and sent her to bring in Arterius right after. She's on her way to get Doctor T'Soni as we're speaking."

"Didn't clean up Udina's mess though," the younger man returned with a hint of annoyance in his tone. "Anderson's still benched and pretty pissed about it."

"Which might be for the better," the older man replied. Although Arcturus was in a justified state of anger and confusion after the very sudden and very independent decision of Udina to convince the Council to withdraw the first human Spectre, David Anderson, from his position for the time being, Rei himself recognized the logic behind the decision. Sure, he wasn't blind to the damage it did, but the fact remained that there would be even more damage the other way around. Anderson and Arterius had worked together for years and while they both knew each other's methods, technically making either of them to be the perfect person to bring down the other, the director himself doubted that Anderson could actually pull the trigger on someone he had known this long. He had read everything there had been to read about the man and all of it simply pointed to one conclusion that nullified whatever hole Udina had torn into the HSA's hopes and dreams in regards to a seat on the Council.

Anderson wouldn't be able to stop Arterius and given the indoctrination effect under which the turian was suffering, the turian would show no hesitation to kill his former friend had he been sent after him, leading to the inevitable and unavoidable failure of any attempt the former N7 made to put a stop to whatever goal it was that the former Blackwatch operative was pursuing for his new master.

"Having Anderson go after Arterius is just asking for disaster," he added, voicing a short summary of his thoughts.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Go ahead, Morneau."

"So is sending a regular N7."

"We both know that the commander is more than that. Her record speaks for itself. If it wasn't for her, things on Elysium might've gone a lot different," although he knew some people would take it like that, he wasn't defending the woman because she happened to be the daughter of a specialist who had died under his watch. "She's one of the best soldiers we have."

"I'm not saying she can't fight, Sir," the specialist replied after a moment. "If anything she's got that part covered pretty decently," there was a short break where even Rei himself after decades of working in the espionage business wasn't certain what the expression on the dark-haired man's face was saying. "What I'm saying is that her kind of fighting won't be enough to stop this. Arterius was one of the best and it didn't help him one bit in the end. Same thing could go for her. One wrong step and that's it, she's gone."

"Is this what this is about, Morneau?" the director asked in turn, placing a hand in front of his mouth.

"Sir?"

"Alec," he clarified with a slight mutter. "Is he the reason why it's starting to sound like you're about to ask me to have Arcturus pull the Normandy out from under the commander's feet and give it to you instead?"

"I wasn't going to ask you that."

"We both know you were," he called his bluff. With thirty five years more on the job, he wouldn't be fooled by a lie as obvious as that one. "And the answer is no. I don't know what this chip on your shoulder is still doing there in the first place but it's about time that you lost it." Although he figured that a specialist would be able to handle that kind of tone, Rei decided that he should at least add a piece of advice to what he was trying to say. "Trying to look for a way to repay a dead man for something you think you still owe him is a good way to get yourself killed. Trust me when I tell you that that's the last thing Alec would want you to do," the took a surprisingly deep breath. "Are we clear on that, Specialist?"

"Crystal, Sir," the younger man nodded, not entirely managing to convince Rei that they really were. Given that he had been down this road before himself, he'd take the partial acceptance for now. Things like this didn't go away in one stern talk. "But even with dead men out of the picture, I rest my case. The commander can be the best damn soldier who ever walked the galaxy, it's still not going to be enough. Not against someone like Arterius. He's not the kind of person you can beat on a battlefield alone."

"I am perfectly aware of that, Morneau."

"So you get what I'm saying?"

"I get that you are itching to get back at the guy standing behind him and prove that Akuze was the exception, not the rule. I get that you feel like you need to prove to yourself that the Harbinger isn't going to get you again," he drummed his fingers on the top of his desk for a few moments before pulling up a new report regarding some of Arterius' private assets on one of the several screens standing in front of him. "Did I get that right?" he asked after a moment of letting the accusation sink in.

"No matter how good the other guy is, there's not a specialist alive who likes to lose, Sir," he confirmed Rei's suspicion.

It was a bold statement for which the part of him that fancied itself a wise and experienced leader would've scolded Morneau if not for the fact that deep down the director knew that it was true. It was just another one of the characteristics that no matter how different two specialists were in every possible way seemed to be prevalent in every last one of his colleagues, making it one of the few conditions he was certain to be a part of the process HSAIS went through to aquire new recruits for the thirteenth section of its Bureau for Field Work.

"No there isn't," he finally admitted with a mumble. Setting aside the reasons for the specialist wanting to go after Arterius himself, the logic behind his request couldn't be dismissed, chip on his shoulder or not. Someone with the resources of Arterius wasn't going to be defeated on the battlefield alone, especially not if he was fighting his fights one at a time and against the same foe.

It'd take more than that.

Someone had to pull the chair from under his ass before Shepard would be able to finish him for good.

While HSAIS hadn't been able, or in this case more likely really bothered, to keep as meticulous of a track on the Spectre and his assets as they did of other potentially dangerous peopel, they had at least managed to draw up up a rough estimate of the network the now-rogue agent could fall back. And even though one of the dozens of footnotes that had been attached to the report insisted that there was a possibility of that figure being lower by now due to all kinds of people having started to chip away at his resources over the course of the time Saren Arterius had practically dropped of the face of the galaxy, it was still a considerable network. Probably larger than that of most other Spectres. However in spite of how intimidating the dozens of major share holdings, board memberships and classified deals with corporations operating at the very limit of both legality and Council Space seemed to be, there was a way, albeit a complicated one, that could be used to pull all of that from underneath Arterius in a reasonable amount of time.

"Young and you never did manage to get a fix on Okuda before I told you to go after Fist, did you?"

"No. We had a few leads on the Citadel and Bekenstein but after Eden Prime hit, they all went cold. The guy might as well be a ghost right now." Out of all the people looking for the turian right now, one seemed to pour even more resources, time and manpower into locating him than the Council. One person who may very well break apart a complex network built over nearly three decades for no other reason than to spite someone who had broken a deal with him. "I thought I was pretty clear on that in my report, Sir."

He had been.

Rei had just asked the rhetorical question for the sake of leading the specialist into the direction he was now realising this was going.

"Given the current circumstances, I think we can both agree that it might not be in our best interest to get in the way of someone trying to achieve the same thing as us, no?

"Probably not," the other man replied after a moment. "Just to get this out of the way, you're not thinking about shaking hands with the Broker, are you? Because if you are, you might want to think about sending someone else."

"Of course not," he said in return. As attractive as the saying of the enemy of your enemy being your friend was, the number of reasons that spoke against ever trying to strike a deal with the Shadow Broker outweighed any possible gains by a long shot. "I was thinking more along the lines of finding a way to put some semblance of control into the path he's burning through Arterius' network." Although he might've been the most successful information broker in the galaxy, the observations that had been made in regards to what could only be described as an obsession of getting his hands on the turian were starting to leave their marks on the Shadow Broker's own organisation. The days of carefully calculated assassinations and ruthlessly efficient operations had made way for an uncontrolled, by his standards incredibly erratic behaviour that aimed at one thing and one thing only, resembling a wildfire in the process. "And to achieve that, Okuda's still a means to an end. He's our way in."

"So what you're saying that it's back to square one for Yo-yo and me?"

"Same mission, different goal," he offered with a shrug. "You know how it goes."

"Nothing like a switch of priorities to mix things up," Morneau mused in return. "I'll get right to it, see which lead's the least dead."

"If I were you, I'd play into Okuda's arrogance. Let him think he got away clean. He always had a problem with growing too comfortable with something he was sure to be a safe thing. Use that."

"Understood. Play him like he tried playing the Broker."

"Exactly."

"I'll let you know when we have something."

"I'd expect nothing less," he nodded.

"Without stepping out of line, I have to ask. Are we done here? The longer we talk, the more dead our leads get."

"Just one more thing, Morneau," although it should've been self-explanatory, the confirmation that Arterius really had gone rogue and with almost absolute certainty was standing under the indoctrination of the Harbinger made Rei feel like he had to say it.

"All ears, Sir."

"No matter how bad you want to stop him, don't take the risk of ending up like him. Arterius might not be around himself when you hit his assets but he's bound to have gathered a following by now. If there's even a one percent change of you, Young or anyone else getting compromized, you abort," briefly drifting back to the first time he had seen an Object Omnicron during the Fringe Wars, Rei shook his head at the memory of his partner being thrown back several meters by some kind of blue energy burst, "If you somehow find another artifact, there will be no intel gathering and no interrogations. You're going to destroy it the moment you can. Torch the whole place if you have to," he added to his instructions before taking a somewhat deeper breath, aware of the underlying implications of his final order. "And no matter what happens, you make sure that you and your mind stay on our side. Losing Arterius was already bad enough but a specialist switching sides now would end our chances of winning for good. Whatever if takes, your secrets stay yours."

"Always, Sir."

"Now go and make sure that Shepard can stop him before it's too late."

"My pleasure."

"Dismissed."

"Sir."

As the hologram disappeared, Rei looked at his screens, the dozens of messages that had appeared within the short time he and the specialist had talked all demanding his attention. He let out a single sigh, knowing full and well that he shouldn't complain about having moved on to tasks like this considering he had just told a man not even half his age to put a bullet in his own head if the situation required it. From a rational point of view, his current position was the far better one.

But still, he would've gladly switched places with Morneau.

With the fight looming on the horizon, Rei couldn't help but want to be back in the thick of it. Although on the grand scale of things, he was making more of a difference in his current position than he could ever hope to make in the field at this point, Rei simply missed solving the problem personally, missed the feeling of something being your fight.

As another message popped up, he let out another sigh.

Helping to stop their former ally by breaking his support structure wasn't his fight.

His fight would come on the day the Harbinger decided to continue what they'd stop Arterius from achieving.

And then he'd be ready.

Then he'd do whatever it took.

* * *

 _Codex: IFSDF Navy_

 _Established during the closing months of 2377, the IFSDF Navy made up the spaceborn wing of the IFS's armed forces, at first consisting of the vessels commandeered by the IFS during the opening engagements of the Fringe Wars but soon being expanded upon by new vessels built in in the shipyards of Horizon, Shanxi and Amaterasu. Although significantly less numerous than their opposition, the IFSDF Navy profited of the fact that initially almost all of its commanding officers had joined them from the ranks of experienced HSA captains, giving them an early edge while weakening their foe at the same time. This fact, alongside the IFSDF's willingness to abandon orbital supremacy in favour of keeping their fleets mobile and giving them free reign over when and where they engaged the HSA, knowing full and well that the latter wouldn't use full-scale orbital bombardment against their own worlds, allowed separatist elements to fight the significantly larger Human Systems Alliance Navy on their own terms._

 _While absent for most of the first year of the war, the naval assets of the IFSDF, back then not formally known as such, made their entrance to the conflict on the Dark Thursday, delivering a crippling blow to the HSA and setting the tone for how they'd fight the majority of the war, striking sensitive targets in lighting-fast attacks and vanishing before a response could take place, a tactic that has been adapted and is still used by their former foes to this day._

 _When talking about the IFSDF Navy, it is unavoidable to not talk about the most curious product of its own ship building effort, the BC-313 New Dawn. Although the exact circumstances of its construction and the technology involved in producing its main-gun and armor plating, both having yet to be recreated by either the HSA or the Council, were not recovered following the, it is known that the New Dawn and the proposed sister ships of its, which never entered construction due to the end of the war, were the product of something recovered IFS documents called 'Project Primogeniture'._

 _It should be noted that critical voices amongst the political opposition of the HSA's government have time and again voiced concerns regarding how sincere the official claims that all details of Project Primogeniture actually are._

 _Besides the New Dawn, the IFSDF Navy is noteworthy for another unsolved mystery that has since led to several works of fiction and conspiracy theories claiming that the entire separatist civil war served the sole purpose of strengthening the HSA's rule and giving Arcturus more power._

 _The identity of its commander._

 _While most elements of the IFSDF leaderships either died or entered captivity at the end of the Fringe Wars, the identity of the individual in charge of their naval operations officially remains unknown, leading to this person being one of the few separatist leaders still being considered at large and dangerous, despite it being unknown whether or not he or she is actually still alive._

 _Combined with the adaption of their tactics and the apparent lack of any information regarding who had been responsible for dealing the most crushing naval defeats in the HSA's history, small but vocal minorities, including members of the already mentioned political opposition, raised the possibility that the commander alongside the staff of Project Primogeniture were recruited into the ranks of the HSA Navy at the end of the war, avoiding prosecution in return for their services._

 _These theories have been largely dismissed by the public due to a number of reasons._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So. I'm shit at keeping my own deadlines.**

 **We know that by now.**

 **Well, at least it hasn't been entirely one month (beat that by two days) since I last updated.**

 **Can't really say anything I haven't been saying tbh. Just been busy with police academy and all.**

 **So let's not go there again. You heard it all before.**

 **let's talk chapter.**

 **Yeah.**

 **This is one of those "people talk about what will happen next" chapters.**

 **You know the type.**

 **We get a bit of Shepard, a bit of Liara, a bit of Desolas and a bit of explanation as to why a character did what he did before we head of to Therum.**

 **Also, we get a hint at another side-plot that I plan to be resolved before we head of to Virmire, namely that Garrus might be doing more here than he was doing in canon.**

 **Now I don't think it has to be said that he's not actually working for Saren.**

 **I will take the liberty to confirm that because in my mind that goes without saying.**

 **BUT!**

 **There is more to his plot line than apparent right now.**

 **I'll leave you with that to think about.**

 **... besides this I don't really have a lot else to say.**

 **Huh.**

 **That's a new one.**

 **I guess there's one thing.**

 **We did crack 800 followers.**

 **That's nice.**

 **Sooooooooooooooooooooooo...**

 **For the record, we're at 453 reviews, 713 favorites and 803 follows.**

 **As always, review and let me know what you think and all. You know how it works.**

 **See you around next time.**


	54. The Archeologist

**54: The Archeologist**

* * *

 **Early 2156 CE, Therum, Cerberus Research Outpost**

As the door came apart after a flare of purple energy had given the piece of debris the force necessary for the lever to finally work as intended, the asari archeologist found herself stumbling forward at the sudden lack of resistance. Falling into the corridor she had come from not twenty minutes earlier, Liara hit the ground ungracefully, the painful sensation shooting through her head not a moment later causing her to grone before eventually pushing herself of the ground.

She knew that the smart thing to do would've been to just stay in the comm-room and wait for rescue to arrive. Especially considering that the gunfire she had been hearing ever since her call with the general had been interrupted had only ended a few minutes ago. But in spite of that, Liara had found herself incapable of just waiting for help like she would've done in the past. She wasn't exactly sure what it was that had caused this change of heart but right now the asari was certain that she had spent enough time of her life waiting for others to come to her aid.

As she steadily moved through the compound now flooded in red light with the aim of reaching one of the security checkpoints, Liara wasn't entirely certain if she had taken a wrong turn already or not. Although she had spent a considerable amount of time in the prothean facility, it looked like an entirely different place right now. Be it the additional lamps or covers for the endless network of cables that had been hung on the ceiling of the corridors that had been thrown from their usual spots or the support beams that had collapsed where the ancient walls they were supposed to uphold remained standing, the chaos of the sudden attack had left its mark on the outpost.

Turning the corner and finding one of the guards, the small, bloody holes in his armor and odd angle at which his head was slumped forward betraying that he was dead, Liara suppressed a gasp. While she had been around the remains of beings that had been dead for centuries or even millennia, the archeologist had never actually seen a fresh corpse. As she considered taking the rifle clutched in the hands of the human soldier, the asari came to the realisation that besides probably not being able to bring herself to pulling the trigger and killing someone, she wouldn't be able to use it properly either way. Briefly stopping to shut the eyes of the human, which had still been open in what looked like a shocked impression, with a gentle touch of her hand the archeologist once more began to walk forward, turning another corner just in time for the red emergency illumination to turn off. As she was about to turn on her omni-tool for a second time, the normal lights turned on, bringing with them the faint but growing hope that Cerberus might've already repelled the attackers and thus returned the outpost to its normal state.

That hope lasted exactly as long as it took her to hear the sound of metallic feet stomping on the ground and a muffled krogan voice roaring a new command.

"She has to be here somewhere. Find her. Tear this whole ruin apart if you have to!"

The blood in her veins ran cold at that. Liara didn't have to be a scientist to know that the 'she' the krogan was talking about was her and that the electronic clicking and buzzing echoing through the corridor was the sound of geth rushing to execute his orders.

She had to move.

She had to get out of here and find help, someone who could actually hope to take on this kind of enemy. Sensing her new-found courage disappear, Liara slowly walked back the way she had come from, nearly tripping over the corpse of the guard she had just passed, surpressing another gasp before circling back to where she had come from. Now that the lights had turned on, she had realised that she had indeed been going into the wrong direction. Determined not to get captured by the geth, the archeologist passed the checkpoint and started to head to where the closest exit should be located, passing by several more dead humans and destroyed geth in the process, the gruesome scene etching itself into her mind deeper with every second she spent looking at it. Averting her eyes and pressing on, it wasn't long until a third gasp got the better of her self-control.

"Doc," she heard a weak voice call. Despite its familiar sound, the asari very nearly screamed her lung out, only managing to force the keep down by putting her own hand in front of her mouth. "Doc, you have to get out of here," the human technician whispered after wiping the blood from his mouth. "The geth. They're here. You have to go. You have to-"

"By Athame, Pete," she said quietly while rushing over to where the injured man was sitting up against a wall with a pistol resting on his lap. As she realised just how much blood had soaked his fatigues already, she began to look around for anything that could be used to stop the bleeding. Spotting a small pouch marked with the human symbol usually used in relation to medical supplies on one of the dead guards lying next to them, the asari crawled over to it, tearing it open and pulling the first syringe of medigel from it that she could find.

"No, no, don't," Pete muttered, grabbing her hand just as she had been about to use it on him. "I'll just slow you down. You have to go. If the geth get their hands on you-"

"I'm not leaving you to die, Pete," she interrupted him defiantly, managing to free her hand from his grip which, thanks to the blood loss, had been far weaker than usual before applying the medigel to the large wound on his torso, the flow of red continuing even after the entire content fo the syringe was empty.

"Doc. Listen to me," the technician whispered as she crawled back to the pouch to get another syringe, the sound of mechanical footsteps becoming audible somewhere in the distance. "They're coming," he coughed up more blood as she returned to his side,"and I'm a goner. You have to go," he repeated.

"I'm no-"

"Liara. If the geth get you, everyone here died for nothing. The whole point of this mission was to-"

"You best stop talking," she muttered in return, trying to hush him.

"Was to keep Saren from finding you," he finished before coughing up more blood and causing her to look at him, his brown eyes weakly gazing back at her.

"What are you talking about?" she asked while applying the next syringe.

"Saren. He tried luring you out once already," Pete whispered as the footsteps grew closer. "But your mother caught wind of it. She kept the message from reaching you and tried to stop him by herself." Goddess. No. "When they realised what had happened, Director Harper and General Arterius decided that you needed to disappear. Couldn't let Saren get to you-"

Now it all made sense.

A boring prothean mining site on a world far out of reach for most people.

A head scientist who seemed intend to argue every one of her decisions.

A seemingly mundane artifact that no one really knew what to do with.

It was the perfect ruse to keep her distracted and hidden at the same time.

"- so that's why you have to go," the human technician insisted as more blood kept flowing from his chest, the next empty syringe cluttering to the floor and briefly overshadowing the sound the geth closing in on them. "Now," he insisted after another cough produced even more blood and pursued her to crawl back to the pouch again.

Eyeing the last syringe in the small pack and looking back at the still bleeding human who by now had ejected the empty magazine from his pistol and replaced it with a fresh one which judging by the amount of blood already on it had been stashed somewhere in his fatigues, the asari was stuck in a weird mixture of guilt and anger.

On the one hand she felt the immense weight of the realisation that her mother had been captured and that people had died just because she had gotten mixed up with the rogue Spectre crash down on her like a rock.

But on the other hand she was angry for being lied to for months.

Angry at herself for not seeing it.

Angry at Saren and the geth for doing this.

And for the first time in her life, she felt like letting that anger get the better of her.

With that thought a purple surge pulsed over her hands, causing the technician to turn towards her.

"Don't do this, Liara," he whispered weakly before returning his attention to where the footsteps where coming from. "Just go. Please."

Somehow those five words managed to demolish her resolve to make her stand than and there to either fight her way out of the prothean facility or die and render whatever it was that the geth wanted to do to her impossible rather quickly.

"I'm so sorry, Pete," she spoke quietly before rising to her feet. "May you find peace in the embrace of the Goddess."

Whatever reply it was that he gave to her farewell was lost to Liara as she began running, each gunshot echoing behind her a few seconds later causing her feet to carry her faster. As her breath grew more ragged on her way to the exit, the asari turned around another corner, spotting a polished white form in front of her and briefly hoping to have found another survivor before realising that this wasn't a human.

It was a geth.

If they hadn't been under orders to capture her alive, she knew that she would've already been dead by the time its cold three digit hand wrapped itself around her arm and if she hadn't been under the influence of adrenaline and already strangely focused on her natural biotic abilities, she never would've been capable of simply throwing the synthetic drone into the opposing wall with enough force to not only shatter it's form but also dent the prothean metal behind it in a single blow.

Picking up her pace and not even sparing a second to think about just how much raw power had to have been behind that attack for it to have that kind of impact, the archeologist came to a crossroads within the outpost, wasting a precious second to try and remember which way the exit had been. By the time she had come to a conclusion and picked a way, her decision was rendered pointless by a squad of geth appearing from the direction she had intended to head towards.

Left with the choice of either going back and running into the geth, heading for the command center, which was likely crawling with geth as well or going for the center of the ruin, the way she had come from earlier, the asari picked the one path in which she saw a small chance of escape and ran straight for the prothean artifact she had been studying under false pretense all this time. As she entered the cave where the room was located, she caught a glimpse of more dead humans, the head scientist amongst them, and ran straight for the stairs, climbing them several steps at a time.

"Hold it right there, asari!" a krogan voice roared behind her, the sound of metal creaking under the weight of something heavy telling her that he was right behind her. "I said stop!"

When her feet touched the first tile of the prothean artifact, she remembered the overload program the turian Spectre had given to her in a quiet moment before their first shared mission with the instructions of only using it when she found herself in a dangerous situation and neither he nor Anderson were around to save her get out of it. As her hands formed the gestures necessary to activate it, Liara herself having no idea how she managed to remember them in the first place, the archeologist also recalled her own words of what a sudden power surge, which an overload program by definition was, could do to a prothean artifact.

Unlike with the program however, that memory came to her a little too late.

As the surge connected with the krogan behind her and the tiles around them, she had just enough time to give credit to the now deceased Doctor Gregor for having been right about the room's purpose before being embraced by a strange force field that, upon being touched by the stumbling and unconscious krogan, caused the heavy alien to harmlessly bounce off of it. As she watched the armored lizard fall to the ground in what seemed like a small eternity, the asari came to another realisation which much like her last one came a little too late.

She couldn't reach her omni-tool to trigger another overload which might reverse the effect of the shield.

In fact, she couldn't do anything.

She was trapped.

* * *

 **10\. January 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy, Hangar Compartment**

"And you're coming with us as well," she said after exiting the elevator with the two human marines and the krogan bounty hunter behind her, addressing their turian guest who she had now walked past.

"Coming with you where exactly?" he replied distracted before looking up from the halfway disassembled Valkyrie lying on the table in front of him and turning his head to follow her path.

"Planetside," Emily explained while heading for the Mako parked in the center of the frigate's hangar, its presence and role on the ship being yet another one of the many turian ideas that had made it into the finalized design of the Normandy-Class. Usually intended to serve as an infantry fighting vehicle, the joint engineer team had taken a single look at the Hierarchy's practice of throwing Jiris IFVs out of low-flying frigates to support a mechanized push and rolled with the idea for the Normandy, adding a few mass effect engines to the floor of the vehicle to mirror the turian hovertanks and calling it a day. Considering that where they were going was far from hospitable, she was glad for that. "We'll be on Therum in less than an hours and since orbital imaging already shows a small geth army waiting right at the outpost, it's all hands on deck for this one. Get ready and fall in."

"Or stay here and wait for us to come back if you don't feel like you're up to it, Blue," the krogan behind her offered with a chuckle.

"Don't tempt me," Vakarian shrugged all the while pushing himself away from the table and grabbing the footlocker that hadn't left his side ever since he had boarded the Normandy. Since he seemed to have the same habit as Wrex, namely keeping his armor on wherever he went, it appeared that the turian was now ready to depart. "So we're really doing this then?" he asked as he caught up to them. "Charging into an active volcano to save an asari archeologist who somehow will help us stop Saren?"

"You make it sound worse than it actually is. The prothean outpost isn't really inside the volcano. It's just nearby," Williams offered at his apparent concern. "Besides, most of Therum's been inactive for centuries. We'll be fine."

"You see, when the briefing mentioned that the whole place might be flooded with lava if we blow up the wrong wall, I kind off stopped paying attention to the details of how we'll get burned alive."

"Heh. You sound scared, Blue," Wrex retorted as she opened the hatch of the Mako's crew compartment, trying to decide whether or not she would actually be able to squeeze the krogan on one seat only.

"Scared? No. I wouldn't say I'm sacred," the turian replied from outside the Mako. "I just happen to have a rather healthy sense of self-preservation. I'm not sure a krogan can relate to that."

"And you said you can drive this thing, Williams?" she asked while peeking up to the driver's seat, the dozens of buttons and holograms meaning next to nothing to her, ignoring the empty banter between her two alien team members.

"17th Marines is the only fully mechanized force in the Corps, Commander," she repeated her earlier statement. "I'd be a damn embarrassment to my unit if I didn't know how to drive one."

"I'll take your word for it, Gunny," Emily said while climbing out of the IFV.

"And you won't regret it, Ma'am."

"I know I won't," she nodded."Time for some last minute checks people. Make sure you have everything you need. Because once this thing drops out of the hangar," she knocked against the armor of the Mako, "we're not going back until the job's done. Volcanic disaster or not," she added with a small smile directed towards the turian.

The job.

Originally this mission would've been a simple pick-up. In and out in less than half an hour. But since the same thing that had complicated all of her recent 'simple' pick-ups seemed to have followed her onto the Normandy, the job had turned into a combat mission eight hours ago. It all had started thanks to a turian message informing her that someone was in the process of attacking Therum and that one of the Normandy's turian sisterships was on its way to Therum as well, likely ignoring every kind of safety regulation in regards to FTL travels and relay usage to hopefully get there in time. From there on out, she herself had come to the conclusion that out of every unit in the Hierarchy's military, the one most likely to be riding on the state-of-the-art frigate was either one of TNI's black-ops hit squads or Blackwatch.

Considering who it was that was attacking Therum, namely the geth possibly led by Saren Arterius , who had been part of the latter unit, the answer as to who was riding on that ship and what they intended to do had been rather easy to answer.

"Anyone else keeping track of our increasing odds of getting burned alive?" she heard the turian mutter. "No? Just me? Alright."

"Still feel like you're up to it?" Wrex teased again just as she realised that her omni-tool had started buzzing. Opting to check who it was that was calling her before answering, mostly because there was little time for all but the most important calls right now, the newly inducted Spectre did a short double-take when she recognized the caller's ID number as the one of Captain Anderson.

Quickly shaking the suprise off, the N7 made an impulsive decision. Given that he likely wasn't supposed to call her right now, Emily figured that she should make sure that this stayed between them.

"Lieutenant, I've got something else to take care of," she knew it was a terrible excuse even before looking at Alenko's expression. "You're it until I'm back."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," the man replied in a somewhat confused tone, probably not entirely sure what he was supposed to do other than ensure that the banter between the turian and the krogan didn't evolve into something more serious.

Hurrying through the door of the hangar and down the stairs to the empty storage room situated near the Normandy's engine room, the commander disabled the room's intercom before finally picking up the message.

"Shepard, finally," the man's deep voice came through her earpiece. "I was starting to get worried I wouldn't catch you in time."

"Sorry about that, Sir. I figured I'd make sure no one would eavesdrop on us."

"Good thinking," there was a short pause in Anderson's transmission that made her wonder if he was just as hidden away as her right now. "Listen. I know you're going to Therum," for a brief moment her mind flashed back to the word's of the specialist again. If she hadn't suspected it before that Director Harper and the captain had some kind of connection, she would've done so by now. This wasn't a coincidence and it gave even more credibility to what the agent had said. "And I know that you might run into Saren once you get there," Anderson went on. "Which is why I have to tell you something I couldn't tell you earlier."

Bracing herself for whatever the next addition to her increasingly harder mission would be, the red-haired N7 asked the question.

"What is it, Sir?"

"If you confront Saren, you need to understand that none of this is on him," Anderson muttered quietly. "Nothing that happened happened because he intended for it to be that way."

What?

This didn't make any sense.

Saren had led the attack on Eden Prime, he had allied himself with the geth and he had been the architect of thousands of deaths and an incursion on a human colony.

How could he not intend for that to happen?

"I don't think I'm following you, Captain."

"I know you don't," the man sighed. "And I know this is hard to believe but Saren isn't to blame for this."

"Captain, I'm still no-"

"If you find Saren, Shepard, you have to try everything in your power to bring him in alive. He isn't the enemy. Not by a long shot."

"With all due respect, Sir. He's a rogue Spectre. Trying to bring him in aliv-"

"Dammit, he's not a rogue Spectre. He's just as much of a victim as the people on Eden Prime," the man interrupted her, sounding angry. Only after taking a deep breath did Shepard get the impression that he was calming down. "Saren's not in control of himself or his actions. Something took a hold of him and it's making him do all of these things and forcing him to watch. If you manage to bring him in alive, if you get him away from that, he might be able to help us stop something far worse than him and the geth."

"What are you talking about, Sir?"

"I-," this time the man cut himself off, "What I'm talking about isn't the kind of thing you can discuss over an omni-tool," he finally admitted. "I know this sounds like an excuse but I will tell you as soon as I find a safer way to contact you," as she was about to suggest using the embassy's own communication network to hail the Normandy directly, Emily remembered that Anderson was likely under constant surveillance by one of Udina's henchmen and that he had only managed to sneak away from him by going to a place far less obvious that the embassy's holoroom. "Please. For now just promise me that you'll remember what I said."

"Sir, trying to bring him in alive would place my team in a lot of danger. I don't know if I can do that in good conscious."

"Do you trust me, Commander?"

Although she certainly had reasons to answer 'no', the fact that those reasons had come from someone who had left a rather bad first impression seemed to encourage her not to do it.

"Yes, Sir."

"Then trust me when I tell you that killing him might doom us all in the long run."

What the actual hell was he talking about?

"So please. Promise me."

Emily could tell that he sounded genuinely scared.

She hadn't thought that the first human Spectre would be scared of things.

Then again she was now the second one. So she probably should've known for a fact that Anderson was just as human as her.

"I'll try my best, Sir."

That was the closest to a promise she was willing to go.

Luckily it had the intended result.

"Good. I've got to go now but I will come back to you as soon as I find myself a more encrypted line. And then I'll tell you what I was talking about. That's my promise. Take care, Shepard," and just like that, the cryptic call ended, once again leaving her with a few answers and even more questions than before.

This really needed to stop happening.

* * *

 **73 Minutes Later, 2156 CE, Therum, Enroute to the Outpost**

As the turian-made shuttle pierced the dark blue sky of Therum and began to slow down its approach as it got closer to the ground, the Blackwatch operative held onto his harness and threw a look at the screen depicting their landing zone near the Cerberus compound as seen by the Parnack's advanced reconnaissance equipment.

"Looks like the place is crawling with geth, General," Lieutenant Callius observed from his right, her voice drowning out the sound of the shuttle's engines for the brief moment her transmission lasted.

"Then we might not be too late after all," he figured. If the geth were still around in such numbers, they had to have run into some kind of problem with trying to capture the doctor. And now that he was here, their chances of achieving that objective would lower even more. He'd make sure of that. "Galviat, as soon as we drop I want you to-"

It wasn't the first time that a sudden, loud detonation had rocked a vessel he had been in and caused it to initiate the painfully familiar process of crashing towards the surface of a planet. If he had to make a list of how many times a shuttle he had been in had been shot down, Desolas would probably find himself running out of spaces to make marks for each one before he was even close to done. Having served in every last one of the Hierarchy's major combat deployments ever since he had turned seventeen, the general had seen his fair share of crashes. And just like the other ones, all of them had caught him as offguard as this one and sent a series of thoughts running through his mind.

They had checked for anti-air emplacements capable of detecting them this early.

There had been none.

Unless the geth had suddenly become a lot more creative than before, this simply shouldn't have been possible.

Something was off here.

Had something changed the geth?

Had they gotten smarter?

As he peeked around to where a large hole had appeared in the cockpit of the hawk-like transport, the blue blood of what used to be their pilot having sprinkled all over its interior and the equally dead co-pilot alike, Desolas managed to spot the flashing red warning message mere seconds before their craft collided with the ground. Being suddenly stopped when flying at the kind of speed their shuttle had been going at was far from pleasant. More accurately, it was usually deadly. If it hadn't been for their harnesses, their armor, the emergency dampeners meant to lessen the blow of this kind of event and the fact that their pilot had been flying dangerously close to the ground to avoid being spotted by optical devices alone, all four turians still alive in the crew compartment would've ended up like the two dead ones in the cockpit of the craft. But since the spirits had always looked down kindly upon Blackwatch, the highly classified number of how many operatives of the ranks of the legion had already joined them likely being very much responsible for their favour, they weren't.

Although given the painfilled growls of Galviat, at least one of his honor guard wished he was.

Quickly orienting himself after realising that their shuttle had landed sideways, the general began. "Besides the usual injuries," he asked while he tasted the blood dripping from where he had inadvertently bit into his tongue upon impact before looking at Galviat, "is anyone else seriously wounded?"

"Only in my pride, General," Veltax muttered as he climbed from his harness and pulled on a lever situated next to the heavily dented, obviously broken door, the hissing sound of it being blown out of its socket following swiftly. "Think you can walk, Galviat?" the sergeant asked as he mustered the other turian who was still dangling in his harness and jabbing a syringe into the injection port of the leg portion of his armor.

"For the next three hours?" he replied before tossing the used stimpack to the ground, undoing his harness and beginning his own climb towards the door, "I'll manage."

"Lieutenant?" Desolas asked after taking a moment to confirm the deaths of the pilot, which considering the state of the cockpit was a mere formality by now. He knew how morbid that sounded but right now there was no point in or time to grieve for his comrades.

"Fine, Sir."

"Looks like we at least managed to crash in the right direction," he heard Veltax say while reaching the exit himself after pulling himself upwards through the help of the harnesses."I can already see the outpost." At least something good had come out of this. "Shouldn't be more than a couple minutes on foot," the other turian figured as Desolas eyed the complex in the distance. "That is if we don't get pinned down anywhere."

"Let's move then, we got no time to waste," Desolas ordered before jumping down from the crashed shuttle and beginning his march towards his goal, three more thuds sounding behind him as the honor guard, bloodied but not beaten, left the broken shuttle as well and fell into his step like they had done a hundred times before. Searching the barren hills in the distance for the faintest signs of geth that might've tried to reach the crash sight before they could recover through the use of his Phaeston's scope, the general was surprised to find not even a single spotter keeping track on them.

This was strange.

Why would they shoot their shuttle down but not attack the crashsite and finish the job?

Where they working under the assumption that no one had survived?

When it had become evident that the geth had chosen their side, Desolas had taken care to study the few incidents where Citadel forces had clashed with the synthetics in the wake of the Geth War. None of them had given him the impression that the geth were the kind of enemy that made decisions based assumptions. Between having access to vast numbers of disposable recon units and an unrivaled ability to process and distribute information across an entire battlefield in a mere instant once a certain number of drones were present, they, more than anyone else, could affort to plan everything down to when a single soldier took a single step.

So it simply couldn't be the that.

As a faint sound made its way through the audio filters of his helmet, Desolas' eyes widenend ever so slightly at the realisation.

"They're fighting someone else," he muttered as the silent but still present machine gun fire continued, the occasional louder cracking already having reached the point where it didn't need any amplification.

"Yes, I can hear it too," Lieutenant Callius confirmed a short second later, pausing when the louder cracking sound returned. "Is that a tank?"

"Sure sounds like one, Ma'am," Galviat offered from behind them, the pain-numbing effects of the stimpack allowing the injured turian to easily keep up with the increasingly faster step Desolas was leading his guard into as they closed in on the small hill separating them from the ruin and whatever battle was raging in front of it. Making himself as smaller as the top got closer, the general finally found himself crawling after having reached the top. Although he knew that concealment would do very little against any geth that might look at him, the optical devices their quarian builders had outfitted them with three centuries ago making them excellent spotters, he'd still be harder to hit this way. "I thought this place didn't have a real garrison."

"It doesn't," Desolas spoke as he leveled his rifle at the green silhouette of a vehicle that now started to climb down a much higher elevation to their left, the blue muzzle flashes coming from the machine gun attached next to its large mass accelerator canon making it rather hard to miss. Reading the human words written on the side of the tank and letting his HUD do the translation for him, Desolas opened a channel to the Parnack waiting in orbit around them. "Captain, break radio silence and hail the Normandy. Tell them they've got friendlies inbound from their west."

"At once, General."

Returning his gaze to the facility again, Desolas muttered something under his breath, his conscious decision to not transmit it over the squad intercom making it inaudible to everyone but him.

"I'm coming for you, Saren."

* * *

 **Two Minutes Later, 10. January 2415 AD, Therum**

"Alenko, you and Wrex are with me," the N7 instructed as the backdoor of the Mako swung open, allowing her, the human biotic and the much taller krogan to make their first steps on Therum's surface under the watchful eye of the Mako, which had already proven its worth by getting them here in one piece. If it hadn't been for the IFV, one of the several larger geth war machines they had run into, the ones the C-SEC detective had kept calling either 'amateurs' or 'armatures', both equally likely given that he had proven himself to be rather talkative when it came to combat, likely would've interrupted their journey to the ruin long ago. "Williams and Vakarian, you stay here and watch our backs until we're at the entrance. Call out targets as you see them and get ready to move once we made sure it's all clear."

After receiving two 'Yes Ma'am' and one 'about time we got out of that tincan', entered a jog, her eyes set on the dark structure in front of them but still glancing at the destroyed geth lying on the ash-covered ground around her. With these guys she wasn't entirely sure if riddling them with bullet holes would be enough. Passing into the shadow of the facility and suspiciously watching a geth who's separated flashlight-like head blinked at her a couple of times before finally going dark, Shepard pressed on, still prepared for another attack.

"Commander, I just got a call from a turian frigate," Joker's voice suddenly came to her through her radio. "They say they've got a ground team coming in from your west."

"A turian frigate? I thought you said there were no friendlies in orbit."

"Well, turns out they're fyling what we're flying ," the pilot of the Normandy replied casually. "It's the THS Parnack. Same stealth and all. They didn't know we were around either until you showed up."

"Understood. I take it then that it's the people the turians called us about earlier?" the commander asked as she reached the black walls of the prothean site, pressing herself against them while also keeping her Valkyrie pointed up ahead, expecting something to jump out of the already visible entrance any minute now.

"The guy was pretty vague about who he was. So yes. Probably them."

She wasn't going to say no to Blackwatch reinforcements.

"Did all of you hear that? We got friendlies coming in over that ridge over there," the N7 asked over the squad's own network, before waving her hand towards the hill overlooking them from the west. "Do you see them, Williams?"

"No, but I do," a flanging voice answered in the place of the marine. "They're definitely Blackwatch. Four guys, looking a bit worse for wear," there was a short pause before the turian detective continued. "Which might have something to do with that smoke column building further west. If I had to take a guess, I'd say their landing here wasn't planned."

"Copy that. Keep them out of trouble, alright?"

"They're no going to need me for that," the turian replied as she reached the entrance of the outpost. Taking note of where the ancient airlock had clearly been blown out of its holdings by a charge large enough to crack the walls around it, the N7 gave the remaining two members of her team the signal to catch up with them before turning her head to where four black armored figures were closing in on them, lowering their weapons as soon as she spotted them.

"You're from the Parnack?" she called, this time not through her radio but through her helmet's speakers.

"Yes, we are," the one who seemed to be in charge nodded before climbing up the small ramp and joining her near the airlock. "Commander Shepard, I take it?"

Where had she heard that voice before?

"Yes," she replied as the cogs in her head began spinning.

"General Desolas Arterius, Turian Blackwatch."

Of course.

He had been the general who had first informed them of the Spectre's treason.

The same one she figured to be related to her target.

Thankful that her helmet was hiding most of the somewhat frustrated expression that had briefly appeared on her face at the realisation that another thing had added itself to the list of strange occurrences that had haunted her since being ordered to board the Normandy, Emily nodded her head towards the entrance as soon as she saw Williams and Vakarian approach from the corner of her eye, the latter quickly offering a salute to the Blackwatch officer himself.

"Have you already made any progress in regards to your objective, Commander?"

"No. We only just got here as well," Emily clarified. "Which is why I suggest we get going. If our asari is still in there, we need to find her before the geth do."

"I agree," he nodded before stepping past her and walking into the main corridor of the outpost. "Veltax, you're on point with me and the krogan. Galviat, Callius, you have the rear. Commander, you and the rest of your people should form our center."

If he hadn't been a general, she might've gotten angry at him hijacking this mission. But as things were, he theoretically held a higher rank, she still wasn't all that clear where she stood now that she was a Spectre, and definitely had even more experience than her. Additionally, she suspected that he knew a lot more about who might be leading their foes than she ever could.

So she'd do what soldiers were expected to do.

Follow orders.

"You heard him people. Fall in and stay sharp."

The inside of the outpost was exactly as damaged and narrow as she had expected it to be with pieces of debris offering the only real cover right until they reached a bigger junction where multiple paths seemed to connect to other portions of the outpost. While on their way to this crossroads, she had stopped counting the destroyed geth and dead humans, who all bore the same markings as the ones on Eden Prime, linking them to Cerberus in the process, simply setting for the answer that too many of her people had died here today.

"I don't like this. It's too quiet. You said the place would be crawling with geth trying to find that archeologist, didn't you, turian?" Wrex muttered, ignoring the rank attached to the person he was talking to.

"Yes I did," the general replied in a cold tone that bone-chillingly enough sounded very similar to the one the other Arterius had adopted in the audio recording that had let to her being here in the first place. "And by all means, it should be. Orbital imaging showed a dozen big dropships and even more smaller ones buzzing all over the area. The geth they dropped didn't just disappear. They're here somewhere."

"You know that we killed a lot of them on our way here, right?" the krogan replied in a low tone before suddenly stopping, causing the two turians flanking him to do the same. "Hold on. Do you smell that?" he asked, the fact that he was the only one who had chosen not to wear a helmet with the argument that Therum's air couldn't possibly be any worse than that of Tuchanka, already answering his question.

"No. As a matter of fact we can't smell that, Wrex," the lone turian who belonged to the Normandy's ground team muttered through his own helmet. "So why don't you go ahead and tell us what you're talking ab-"

"It's another krogan," he cut the C-SEC officer off before slowly marching towards the path leading deeper into the facility. Before she could ask if it was one of the females Wrex was looking for, the next sentence of the bounty hunter eliminated that possibility."And he's close by."

Had it not been for the fact that a turian was the one leading them, she might've been tempted to claim that it made no sense for a krogan to work with the geth. But as things were, she didn't put it past the possible.

"How close are we talking?" the turian general asked as he followed the krogan, seemingly not put off by his behaviour. Replying to the question with a mere gesture to be quiet, Shepard suspected that she and the two marines were the first to pick it up. It was a faint noise not unlike the kind you'd hear during night rotations aboard a spaceship, echoing towards them from a set of narrow pathways that did well to hide how loud the krogan was actually talking.

"Close enough for him to smell me too," the bounty hunter offered before suddenly breaking into a quick dash down the corridor, probably hoping to get the drop on his fellow krogan before he could alert the synthetics at his side.

"Sir?" the flanking turian who wasn't a general related to the rogue Spectre asked, turning his head to the one in charge.

"We'll follow him. He'll give us away one way or another," Arterius instructed before jogging down the corridor himself, albeit somewhat more careful. "Engage targets as they appear."

"Ma'am?"

"You heard him. Go after Wrex."

If she hadn't already come to that conclusion earlier, it was now clear that she and the krogan would need to have a talk once they got back to the Normandy.

* * *

 **Three Minutes Later, 2156 CE, Therum**

As she watched the previously calm krogan beat his hand against the bubble surrounding her for the dozenth time in the last minute, something he had only started doing rather recently after more and more geth had swarmed back the way she had come from earlier, Liara shifted her focus to where one of the few geth that hadn't vacated the room was standing. Remaining motionless next to the equipment the Cerberus team had set up, only the rapid flashing of his 'head light' and the hand planted on the console suggesting that it was in fact doing anything, the pessimistic voice in the back of her head managed to tell her that it would soon find a way to shut down the field protecting her befroe she once more silenced. it.

Sure, while she could be naive at times , Liara didn't exactly consider herself a fool or crazy, no matter what people had claimed over the years. On the contrary actually. The archeologist liked to think that she was in good touch with reality. For this reason she understood just how bad her situation actually was.

To summarize things.

She was alone and surrounded by geth, completely at the mercy of a technology she didn't quite understand. Everyone in the outpost was either dead or dying and whatever help seemed to be coming her way right now might not make it before the geth, which was an AI and as such capable of calculating a thousand possible solutions to the problem she had worked on for weeks in a split second, found a way to deactivate the mechanism she herself had triggered.

While not a fan of the word dire, it seemed rather fit to describe the mess she had gotten herself in.

Shifting her eyes back to the krogan, who still looked about ready to kill her as another of his punches bounced of the prothean shield, something that only seemed to further his anger, Liara suspected that this was the time where an individual with different talents would've begun plotting their escape by drawing up some kind of plan that, against all odds, allowed them to thwart their opponents and live to tell the tale of how they escaped death.

But sadly she wasn't that kind of person.

She had already surprised herself with her earlier display of what she didn't dare to call fighting prowess. Although it was again dire to think such thoughts, Liara didn't figure she'd do much better than that once the geth managed to shut down the shield.

Preparing herself to suppress the internal flinching every punch had managed to produce up to now, the asari was surprised when the krogan stopped just shy of hitting the field. Instead of continuing his pointless battering, he visibly swallowed his anger as quickly as it had initially appeared and pulled his hand back, reaching for the gun strapped to his back and looking the way they had come from, eyeing the round corridor entrance at the end of the stairs, an unspoken order causing two of the geth standing near it to begin moving into it. After the drones had vanished for a couple of seconds, a red shape came thundering from the corridor, sending them flying backwards in a way that suggested that their heavy frames and strong synthetic muscles had simply disappeared in favour of something less the shape slowed down, revealing it to be another krogan, an angry roar slipped from the one standing in front of her, producing what seemed to be a smirk on the face of the other.

Visibly provoked by the gesture, chaos began to unfold swiftly. It all started with an shot of the krogan's shotgun that harmlessly bounced of the purple field surrounding the new arrival. Then, as if someone had flicked a switch, the battle broke out. Charging into the room after the krogan and immediately going for cover were two turians clad in a set of armor which's familiar sight caused her hopes of rescue to not just flare up but turn into a certainty.

Turian figures clad in dark, heavy armor that was covered with fine gold lines.

Blackwatch.

The general had come, albeit it with strange company.

As the gunfight went its way, the sudden appearance and speed of her rescuers' attack combined with their skill gave them the advantage early on, resulting in the geth and their krogan commander being overwhelmed despite of what her uneducated eye considered to be a superior position on top of the stairs.

"Clear!" a voice yelled as the brown-plated alien slumpled to the ground, orange blood flowing from a large wound in its chest. Encouraged by the other krogan's defeat, the one that had accompanied the turians, a particularly impressive specimen covered in red plates and scarred from what had to be centuries of fighting charged up the stairway to her first, the metal of the structure creaking under his weight. Apparently considering her to be unimportant as of right now, the red krogan kicked the bleeding one without ever look at Liara, causing him to spin on his back.

"Talk, welp. Where did Saren take our people?" he asked angrily. When the injured one offered no reply, the one standing over him planted his foot on the wound right as the turians and humans accompanying him caught up with him.

"You're too late," the injured krogan whispered through his bloodied mouth, "I've seen the truth. I know our purpose. Nothing you can do to me would make me betray his cause now. The cycle will no-" a kick of the red krogan interrupted him halfway through his sentence, the odd angle at which his jaw was now twisted letting Liara doubt that he'd say anything else.

"Take your time up here," the interrogator offered before effortlessly lifting his kin to his feet and dragging him towards the stairs. "I'll be downstairs."

"Doctor T'Soni, are you alright?" the voice of Desolas Arterius', who she had previously been angry at for putting her on Therum under false pretense, was like music to her ears.

She was safe.

Well mostly.

There was still the whole issue of her being stuck.

Unsure of whether or not the field would allow her to talk, she hadn't actually attempted it up to now since the brown krogan currently being 'interrogated' by the general's companion hadn't seemed all that eager to converse with her, Liara figured that only a good old scientific experiment would give her the answer to that question.

"I am," she said, or more accurately tried saying. It felt like she had been gagged. Much like she couldn't move, her mouth failed to produce what she was trying to say.

"Good," the turian general nodded. "Now let's get you out of here. Lieutenant Callius, think you can figure this thing out?"

Wait.

He understood her?

How?

With the weight of the geth trying to capture her lifted of her back, Liara found herself returned to the prothean archeologist. As she tried to come up with an explanation as to why this field seemed to produce the effects it had to her, she also gasped internally when another one of the turians, her smaller frame betraying that unlike the other ones she was a female, smashed her fist against one of the tiles likely responsible for keeping the field in place.

By Athame, what would hitting it possibly achieve?

"Unlikely, Sir," the lieutenant offered as one of the humans, this one a tall man, knocked his fist against the shield in a much more gentle way but still having the exact same effect as the punches of the krogan, namely none.

"What about you, Commander?" the general said before turning to the human woman on who's chest a small symbol she had last seen on Agent Anderson's piece of armor was depicted. "Any ideas?"

"I'm not so sure you should be asking me about this, General," the human replied while walking over to her comrade and softly placing the armored palm of her hand on the shield, which strangely enough seemed to a circular wave to expand across the transparent surface of the bubble. "The last time I touched something prothean, it kind of blew up in my face," she offered with a shrug before withdrawn her hand, the outlines of which seemed to remain on the exterior of the bubble, something none of the punches of the krogan or the touch of the other human had managed to do. "I thought she was the expert. Why not ask her?" the human finished with a question before turning to the group and facing her back towards the bubble, evidently missing the brilliant blue glow the waves her touch had started now shone in.

"Commander," the soldier to her side muttered as he locked eyes with Liara, the dark-brown orbs visible behind his visor filled with the same marvel as the asari's own blue ones.

"What's the matter, Alenko?" the woman said before turning her head around. "Ok. What's going on?"

Watching as the waves shifted from blue to green and finally to an almost golden glow, the archeologist was at a loss, too busy with thinking to notice that the feeling in her hands was already starting to return.

How was this possible? Had the commander just coincidentally touched the right spot?

No. It couldn't possibly be this simple.

"Whatever you did, Commander, do it again," General Arterius instructed as he came to a halt next to her, the mirrored faceplate of his helmet staring straight at Liara, allowing her to see her own surprised expression.

Hesitating for a brief moment before once more planting her hand on the spot where her imprint was still visible, the human soldier now too locked eyes with Liara, a green not all dissimilar from the glow on the bubble visible behind her own visor. Having never quite seen this kind of eye colour in any human, the slight bioluminescence it seemed to have making it all the more unusual, Liara could only come up with a single, awe-inspiring answer.

The human was somehow interacting with prothean technology in a way no one else had ever done.

Goddess.

Although she recognized how inappropriate it sounded, Liara felt a sudden desire to study her. Decades of scouring through ruins and not once had she seen this kind of reaction to someone interacting with anything prothean.

What was it that she had said?

The last time she had touched something prothean it had blown up?

Maybe that had-

Suddenly feeling her full weight being pulled down by gravity, Liara barely had time to brace herself for the incoming fall that began the moment the field disappeared, only escaping another harsh encounter with the ground thanks to the other human soldier and General Arterius quick reaction.

"How did you-" Liara managed to get out before feeling dizziness overcome her.

"Doctor, are you alright?" either the human or General Arterius, she honestly couldn't quite place the direction or the tone of the voice, asked as her head got heavier and heavier with each passing moment until suddenly there was only one thing she felt.

Blackness.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 2156 CE, Orbit around Feros**

"The last unit just shut down. We now have lost all contact with our forces on Therum," the asari said gracefully as ever as Saren withdrew the hand he had been hiding his face behind, a habit he seemed to have developed at a point he didn't remember.

"So we failed to retrieve your daughter," he muttered before looking for even the smallest change on the asari's face. It had been no coincidence he had phrased his conclusion that way. Satisfied to find no shift of emotion and thus proof of her continued loyalty to him, Sovereign and their purpose, the turian rose from his chair after gently disconnecting the tube that had previously pumped medicine into the leg where one of the Thorian's spawns had managed to injure him in a distracted moment on Feros. "What about the krogan?" he asked to distract himself from the anger slowly boiling up in him now that he knew that the archeologist, someone who while not crucial to his purpose could aid him greatly in finding the Conduit, had slipped through his fingers once more.

"Until he perished, his vital signs suggested that he remained as stable as we had hoped. It would seem this newest batch has finally outgrown the genetic flaws of the past ones."

"Good. Give word to Vermire. They are to continue with this template alone," although the geth were useful and unquestionably loyal to his cause, the turian knew better than to rest all of their hopes on him. The facilities on Vermire were his solution to that problem. And apparently the fruits of their labour were starting to pay off. Soon an army of krogan, the one foe that had managed to ever challenge the Hierarchy on something akin to equal footing, would be his to command.

"It will be done," the asari replied with a respectful nod. When she remained standing the turian realised that she had something else to say. Just as he was about to voice that question, the whispers let him knew that there was no need, to do so ensuring him that he'd get his answer right away.

"Before the last unit was destroyed, it managed to transmit the moments leading up to its destruction," Benezia T'Soni spoke as the door to the room opened and a geth stepped inside, a small purple device clutched firmly in its arms. When it came to a halt, the drone set it up with a series of perfectly executed motions before audibly interfacing with it. Turning his attention to the hologram appearing from the device, Saren again managed to keep himself restrained at the sight of the familiar N7 symbol. "And it would appear that this human was responsible for the attack."

"Is she the same human who accessed the beacon?"

"Yes."

Never before had a single word made Saren this angry.

"She was supposed to die!" he roared while walking over to the asari, neither of them noticing that the geth kept switching between images, the depiction of the human long gone by now. "Why isn't she dead?"

"It would seem that Fist failed at his task," the matriarch offered calmly as Saren shoved her backwards with enough force to make even a krogan stumble.

"Then he dies as well," the turian muttered as he looked at the asari who had only moved back a couple of steps despite his push. "They will not stand in our way." Turning back and finally noticing what had replaced the image of the human, Saren froze in place. As the hologram of a turian in a set of black and golden armor marked with the rank insignia of a general stared right at him, Saren felt something in him shift.

Desolas.

For a moment the whispers that had kept him calm or the all consuming voice that had forced him to obey when more subtle means had failed were gone. For a moment, all his mind was left entirely to his own, freed from the iron grip that had kept it in check these last few months.

As the anger vanished, now replaced with a sense of satisfaction that his plans had been foiled, Saren locked eyes with Benezia, who instantly seemed to know that something was off. Doing the one thing his gut was telling the turian Spectre not to do when facing off against an asari, he lashed out with his biotics. Either unprepared for the attack or unwilling to hurt what was the most crucial piece in the Harbinger's plan to bring death to the galaxy, the matriarch reacted just a second to short. Flying through the room right as his fist crashed into the head of the geth, destroying it in a single blow and spilling the white cooling fluid over his equally white facial plates, the turian considered his options.

In the brief seconds he had for himself in the wake of his sudden change of allegiance, Saren could've done a lot of things.

He could've tried to make a run for it and attempt to escape back home.

He chose not to because the chances of him succeeding were slim to none.

He could've tried to go through with what his subconscious had attempted several times and deny Sovereign any further access to himself by ending his own life.

But he chose not to because judging by what he had seen the Reaper do to people even after their death, he wasn't certain if that'd be enough either.

So instead of choosing a way out for himself, the Spectre did something else.

Bringing up his omni-tool and accessing the first unblocked channel he could find, which happened to be the last one he had used before boarding Sovereign for the first time, Saren managed to sent out one message consisting of nothing but a single word and his current location, hoping that he'd read it and draw his own conclusion from it.

Harbinger.

Spending the last seconds of his freedom by staring at the dozens of unread messages other people had sent him, Anderson's increasingly more desperate attempts to reach out to him causing a particular sting, the turian was glad to be gone again by the time Sovereign's will subjugated him once more.

* * *

 _Codex: Prothean Technology_

 _Although found all over the galaxy, most prothean technology besides the mass relays, the Citadel and the basics of Element Zero technology is poorly understood and almost impossible to interact with on all but the most basic steep differences between these artifacts and other, later discoveries in the Attican Traverse has always been one of the major points of discussion amongst the scientific community, some fringe scientists and conspiracy theorists going as far as arguing that certain things thought of as prothean may in fact have originated from another, older civilization that predated the galaxy-spanning civilization of the prothean people. Besides pointing out the visible differences in design and material used in the construction of other structures, these theories are also fueled by the fact that most pieces of prothean technology emit a low but still significant amount of radiation that, after prolonged exposure, damage the DNA of most known plant and insect species, an effect not observed anywhere aboard the inhabitable portions of the Citadel._

 _While predating creations of the current space-faring races by at least fifty thousand years, prothean artifacts remain the most advanced pieces of technology in the galaxy, their continued functionality, complex design and resilience to all but the most hostile environments standing as a testament to the feats of engineering the precursor civilization achieved before disappearing._

 _Even though the study of their artifacts has a long and proud history ranging back to the first studies conducted by salarian explorers on Paeto following the historical discovery of Ammar Solem, successful non-digital interaction with prothean devices has been almost non-existent, a fact that has long since gave rise to the theory that most prothean technology outside of the Citadel might've been locked through a genetic imprint that happened to be damaged in the few cases were physical interaction, such as the accidental opening of the prothean archives on Mars, alone provoked a reaction._

 _Following the attack on the Citadel by [Due to public safety concerns, this segment is currently awaiting approval by the Citadel Security Service.]_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Am I going overboard with censoring the Codex?**

 **Maybe.**

 **Alright. Chapter.**

 **Now, first off let me start by saying that I decided against writing a lot of action this time around because I personally feel like I've read descriptions of the Therum mission a thousand times already.**

 **So I found a loop-hole and showed you the fight... from Liara's perspective this time around.**

 **Now of course Noveria and Feros aren't going to be like that.**

 **Also, I decided to... alter the way she gets out of the bubble... by a lot.**

 **Now, this is going to tie in to the cipher being a bit different.**

 **And before you get that notion, this isn't something like humans being chosen ones. It's why I went out of my way to mention that alenko doing the same thing didn't do anything.** **Also, the bit about the mars archives is basically me having the image in my head of some UN worker on a completely average job(remember them? they used to exist before the HSA. We'll get there, someday) tripping and accidently opening a huge-ass underground door and thus throwing humanity ahead a couple of centuries... thanks to being clumsy and bored with his mudane job and not paying attention to where he was walking.**

 **Sure sounds like us, doesn't it?**

 **Now.** **Other than that, Saren's back. Again.**

 **Also, Shepard didn't actually get to lead her first mission by herself because. Reasons.**

 **Also, also, for those of you who figured Darius and Blackwatch would end up on the Normandy and me saying it wasn't going to happen, I never said they would have nothing to do with ME1.**

 **I just said it wasn't going to be on the Normandy.**

 **Yeah.**

 **I feel like since I already spelled it out like this, I can say just say it. For a lot of ME1 from here on out, not all of it but a good chunk, the Normandy's gonna have the Parnack's company.**

 **That is all to that.**

 **For the record we're at 480 reviews, 732 favorites and 819 follows.**

 **Next up, a very important talk and a bit of other sideline stuff.**

 **See you around next time.**


	55. The Line

**Chapter 55: The Line**

* * *

 **10\. January 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy, Armory Storage**

Pulling off the gauntlet from her hand and looking at the naked palm below it with a shared sense of confusion and wonder, Emily found herself at a loss.

What had just happened?

People like her weren't supposed to be able to do anything with prothean tech other than break it. It took ridiculously expensive equipment, a couple of doctorates and a huge scientific team to do something as simple as boot up one of their dusted up here she was, having broken through some kind of shielding device with the touch of her hand.

How?

As she formed a fist, halfway expecting something else to happen, the N7 didn't even notice that someone had joined her in the armory storage, overhearing both the hissing of the door and the quiet footsteps of the person walking up to her.

"Everything ok, Commander?" the biotic lieutenant asked while shoving the case in which his armor was stored into its designated spot below his nametag.

"Didn't I tell you to drop rank when it's just the two of us, Alenko?" the red-haired marine replied before tossing the last piece of armor in the footlocker and shutting it.

"Question still stands," Alenko countered with a shrug while inspecting his own armor compartment. "I know I'd be very confused if I was in your shoes right now. What happened down there? That's not usual. That's the opposite of usual."

"Don't you think you could say that about everything that's been going on since we hit Eden Prime?" she offered before turning around to face the marine.

"You could," the man said in return. Only when he kept quiet did Emily realise that he was still waiting for an answer to his question.

"I guess I'm as ok as I can be," she decided to answer truthfully. "It's not like this is the first strange thing that's happened to me because of prothean tech," the N7 added with a shrug of her own, remembering the vision the beacon had passed onto her, its contents still a jumbled mess she could make no sense of other than understanding that it was something to be afraid of.

"You're talking about the beacon, aren't you?" Alenko asked somewhat guilty. "Did it do something to you after all? I thought Chakwas cleared you."

The first time she had tried to talk to a fellow crew member about what the beacon had shown her, Captain Anderson had come barging into the room and ordered her to stand down. That had been before she had learned about Cerberus and been warned that neither Director Harper nor the Spectre who had kept her from talking, who incidentally happened to be the only two people who she had spoken to about the vision freely, were telling her the truth about what was going on.

"I'm not sure how it did it or what it means," she began. It was about time she talked about this to someone who she figured was going to be honest with her. Alenko seemed like the kind of guy who'd be just that. "But I think it tried to tell me something. Jesus," she paused after a chuckle while looking at the lieutenant. "I'm warning you, this is going to make me sound crazy."

"Try me, Shepard," he offered with a small smile that seemed to radiate sense of security.

Well.

Considering what she had already said, she figured she might as well go the distance with Alenko on this one.

"It gave me a vision."

"A vision?" the lieutenant repeated in a low, surprised tone. "Did you tell-"

"Captain Anderson about it?" Emily finished the sentence for Alenko. "Yes. Yes I did," she sighed,"and he told me to keep it to myself," recognizing that the last part of her sentence made the lieutenant shift ever so slightly, Emily went out of the strange need to justify her breaking the ordered secrecy, "But with everything that's happened lately, I'm starting to believe that that wasn't his best call."

"What do you mean?"

"Other than that something beside what we're being told is obviously happening wherever we go?" Shepard asked in return, "I feel like something's wrong with me," she confessed. "Ever since I touched the beacon, I keep having these strange dreams. Nightmares really. They're bits and pieces of the vision, clearer than when I try to think about it. Kind of like an old memory coming back," she tried to do her best to explain the feeling but guessed that it was something you had to go through yourself to truly understand.

"Okay," Alenko nodded once before raising an eyebrow. "What are they about?"

"That's the thing," she said while leaning against the table and tossing her head back to look at the ceiling. "I never quite remember. I just know that it's something bad. Like something really, really bad."

"You think it has anything to do with Arterius?" Alenko asked out of the blue. "He touched the beacon as well. Could he have done something to it that's messing with you?"

"At this point I don't know what to think, Alenko. It's like someone put my brain through a mixer."

"You know, asari mindmelds have been known to fix that kind of state," the biotic said with a shrug. "If something prothean did it to you, a prothean expert might be able to help you deal with it."

"Are you talking about the Doc?"

"Do you happen to know any other asari prothean experts?"

"Fair point," she smiled briefly. "Say if they mindmeld with you, asari basically look into your every thought, don't they?" At least that's how she had heard people describe it. In fact, it was this specific attribute of the mindmeld that made asari the go-to ambassadors whenever a new species stumbled upon the galaxy that didn't happen to have advanced enough computers to sort things out via a translation software. Learning a completely alien language in a few sessions was only made possible by having access to all thoughts. Unless she remembered it wrong, the elcor and drell had been integrated into the galactic community in precisly this manner.

"I wouldn't know the details of how it works," the dark-haired marine admitted. "Why?"

"Because she's a civilian and I don't think having her run freely over an N7's brain is that good of an idea," Emily replied. "Especially not with everything going on right now."

"So you don't trust her?"

"It's not just that," she explained again, placing an emphasis on the 'just'. "From what I hear mindmelds can be a bit," Emily paused for a moment while trying to find the right way to phrase it without making it sound wrong, "confusing for both parties involved. I really don't need that."

"I can see that," Alenko offered in return, the expression on his face telling her that there was something else he'd like to say. But before she could question him for a change, the intercom came to live with the quipping voice of Joker.

"Commander, Lieutenant, it looks like you're getting visitors," the pilot stated. "The Parnack's requesting to dock with us to debrief our Therum ground team. And before you ask, no, I don't know when generals started to request things instead of just doing them." Shepard grimaced at that last part. It hadn't taken her long to figure out why a pilot of Joker's caliber had never made it past the rank of lieutenant. A lot of the times he just didn't know when to keep his comments to himself.

"Permission granted," she said before nodding to the elevator. "Come on, Alenko, a general's waiting for us. We shouldn't keep him waiting. Probably wouldn't be good for our careers."

"Well, he is just Hierarchy. Technically," the lieutenant began, only the small smirk he offered when she turned to him in disbelief telling her that he was kidding.

"You picked a really bad time to develop a sense of humor, Lieutenant."

"Timing was never my specialty, Commander."

* * *

 **Eight Minutes Later, 2156 CE, HSASV Normandy, Conference Room**

"Alright. That's it. The ground team's all accounted for, General," the human commander said as the bounty hunter finally decided to walk into the room, his eyes immediately going for the golden mexta sigil stitched on Desolas' grey dress uniform.

Whether he had already had personally clashed with his unit before or simply heard the stories about Blackwatch as they were told by the few survivors who had met them during the Krogan Rebellions, a time during which almost all missions of his legion had taken the 'from the shadows' portion of their battle cry to its darkest extreme, Desolas got a feeling that the krogan might not be all that eager to spent time around him. It wasn't a secret that turians, especially the ones that were part of a legion that had spilled as much krogan blood as Blackwatch, were still unpopular with the outcast species.

"Then we shall begin," his voice flanged through the now darkening room.

While he had done so with a heavy heart, he had come here with a simple intention. If this was the crew that was to stop his brother, a goal he wanted to achieve as well, the best way for them to both succeed was to work together. To do that, these people, even the krogan mercenary, had to know the truth. The whole truth. Not just the bits and pieces Director Harper had been willing to reveal to them or what they had pieced together for themselves already. They needed every detail, every little fragment of the unfinished picture he had been staring at every day since Haliat had died. Otherwise they not only wouldn't stand a chance at success but also risk ending up just like the others.

So that's what he'd do.

Tell them everything.

"The reason why I asked all of you to gather for this debriefing is that I recognize the need for transparency," Desolas said as he looked at the assembled mixture of humans, turians and krogan spread out across the room. "Our shared goal is to stop my brother who as all of you know has turned rogue and aligned himself with the geth. If we want to succeed at that, you need to know what it was that led him to do so," wiping his omni-tool at the holographic projector installed in te ceiling above him, Desolas watched as the depiction of the Leviathan that had taken part in the attack on Eden Prime assembled itself. "What you're looking at right now isn't a geth dreadnought," that was the official version that was being released by the Council now that footage of the battle was starting to surface on the extranet. "It's a ship of unknown origin believed to have taken part in the extinction of the protheans some fifty thousand years ago," even though it was dark he could tell by their expressions that this was the first truly shocking thing that he had said to them. It wouldn't be the last. "And while we don't understand how it achieves the effect, we know that this ship and artifacts related to it can influence the actions of people that come into close contact with them," with another wipe of his omni-tool images of Elanos Haliat, Edan Had'dah, Doctor Shu Qian, a number of the deceased Cerberus scientists encountered on Akuze and finally his own brother joined the projection of the alien ship. "My brother became a victim of this 'indoctrination' effect while trying to find a way to stop its master, an unknown entity indoctrinated indivudals have referred to as the 'Harbinger'."

"Stop him from doing what exactly?" the krogan injected in a low growl from his position near the door of the room.

"From doing to us what he did to the protheans," Desolas clarified before moving on. "Now, I am sure all of you have many questions," he couldn't blame them, "but right now what you need to understand the most is that the one pulling his strings is far more dangerous than Saren could ever be and that its the Harbinger's plan that my brother is following, not his own," for some reason the second human Spectre seemed to be the only one not surprised by this particular revelation. Had someone already told her? It didn't matter. "And that if he succeeds, we're all in terrible danger."

"Permission to speak, General Arterius?"

"It's your ship, Commander Shepard," he nodded.

"Where is all of this coming from?" the human asked as she pointed at the hologram before looking at her team. "I mean how long have you known this was happening?"

This was what he had figured would happen.

Luckily he had come prepared to tell a very long story.

"I was made aware of this situation when a Blackwatch captain killed his team under the influence an artifact a pirate gang stole from the Batarian Hegemony," he explained while producing a depiction of what the humans called 'Object Omnicron', its dark purple, spherical appearance and the memories connected to it sending a slight shiver down his spine that he refused to let show. "However the HSA's own awarness of this matter predates that event by at least a decade," as expected that caused the non-humans to look at the humans.

"When?" Shepard asked again.

And thus, the turian general began to tell said very long story.

* * *

 **Three Hours Later, 11. Janaury 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy, Conference Room**

When the assembled group left the room in silence, the revelations of the general weighing heavily on all of them, Shepard had been confirmed in her suspicions.

Harper and Anderson hadn't told her everything.

They hadn't even told her a fraction of everything.

Although she realised that the other human Spectre hadn't had that much time to live up to his promise yet, Emily still found herself being mad at him. Not only because she suspected that he wouldn't have told her everything the Blackwatch general had told her but also because he had refrained from mentioning that this 'Harbinger' person and the ship they had seen on Eden Prime could literally hijack their mind.

She would've appreciated knowing that beforehand.

Hell, she would've appreciated none of this being a secret in the first place. Even if she had developed a distaste for secrets, she got the point behind classifying certain things. But keeping what the general described as a fight for the survival of civilization a secret from everyone but a selected few people? Despite the credit she gave him for telling them, she wasn't sure a worse decision could've been made. Good soldiers followed orders and she had been told to keep all of this to herself. Yet Emily couldn't shake the feeling that this was the kind of order good soldiers in fact didn't follow. People needed to know and telling them would've been the right thing to do.

She liked to think that she always did the right thing.

As she stopped in the hallway between the CIC, the conference room and the comm-room of the Normandy, Emily realised that anything she'd do right now wouldn't just be impulsive, it'd also be pointless. Sure, she could retell the general's story to anyone who would listen but who would believe her? She and her ground team had believed General Arterius because of what they seen for themselves. Besides the people who had fought on Eden Prime, anyone she'd try to convince wouldn't have that.

"Earth to Commander Shepard? Can you hear me down there? Jeez, is this think broken already or what? Next generation stealth frigate my ass," Joker sighed through the intercom of the hallway.

"Yeah, I'm here. What is it, Joker?" she asked, annoyed with he self. She usually didn't zone out like that.

Maybe she was being too hard on herself? She had just been told about an impending galactic cataclysm.

"For the third time, there's a call waiting for you in the comm-room." Yes. It was definitely his attitude that kept him from getting promoted. But that was the least of her problems now. "It's Captain Anderson," he added.

For a very good reason that immediately caused her to turn left and head into the room.

"I'm sorry it took me this long to get back to you, Commander," Anderson began as she entered the room, apparently already waiting for her. "Turns out finding a way to reach you without Udina noticing isn't all that easy."

"I met General Arterius on Therum and he told me everything," she fell into the words of the other Spectre. "Harbinger, Object Omnicron, the Budapest, Saren. All the things you and Harper have been keeping from me? I know about them now."

"He did wha-" shaking his head the former N7 placed a hand in front of his mouth in disbelief before collecting his thoughts. "If you know, you understand why I couldn't have told you earlier."

"What I understand is that you've been keeping the biggest damn secret in the galaxy for three decades. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking about reactions like this one," Anderson countered. "And for the record, I haven't been keeping it for three decades, Shepard. It hasn't even been half a year since Saren told me. And when he did I reacted exactly like you're reacting right now. I wanted everyone to know. That is until I realised that telling the average person that the gun that killed the protheans is now pointing at our head wouldn't do us any good at all," as he paused after a rather sudden outburst, if one could call this rather composed reply that, Emily looked at the Spectre and for the first time since being told that he was keeping something from her decided to see things from his perspective.

Here he was, knowing all of these things, knowing that his friend was out there, indoctrinated and being forced to usher in what could be a galactic extinction event and he was powerless to stop any of it because he was stuck on the Citadel, condemned to watch other people chase someone he had worked with for years.

For a very good reason that suddenly made her feel like the bad guy in all of this.

She was in the right though, right?

Before she could come into conflict with her own perception of the situation, Anderson started to talk again. "I understand what you're going through right now, Commander," he said, "I've been there. All of this is just too much not to get overwhelmed at first. But before you make a decision, you have to think about what good it's going to do for us when in the long run."

He was right.

She recognized that now.

But still. Emily couldn't shake the feeling that she was right as well. No matter how contradictory that sounded.

If what the general had told her already caused her, a trained special forces officer, to act irrationally until someone talked sense into her, the average person would react even more poorly when being told what secrets had been kept from them and for how long they had been kept. That wouldn't do them any good. But on the other hand not telling people that they were in grave danger was just as bad. Maybe they'd handle it better than expected and prepare for what was looming on the horizon. Maybe the threat of a galactic scale war would finally bring the batarians and the Terminus Systems in the same boat as the Council and maybe, just maybe, together they'd do better than the protheans had.

Was that optimism or an outright lie she was telling herself?

Was she willing to take that gamble?

She knew she wasn't in any position to make that call, at least not right now.

"I understand, Sir," it was the only reply she could give at the time. It didn't imply that she'd decide one way or another, it just implied that she got what the captain was trying to say. That she'd consider his words the way he wanted her to consider them.

"I knew you would," he replied, evidently relieved. "Now that you know, can I assume that you also understand why I told you that taking Saren alive might be crucial to stopping Harbinger?"

"I understand that he might be able to tell us more about our enemy," might being the keyword. If this indoctrination really did what the general had said it'd do, Emily wasn't sure if the turian Spectre would give them anything. Removed from his masters or not, he might already be gone for good. Given the other examples, she certainly hadn't gotten the impression that it was a reversible process. Between the other cases, the N7 assumed that this was the lie Anderson was telling to himself to stay on top of things.

"Good. Good," he muttered. "Listen, I can't stay much longer. Udina's keeping me under a really tight lock. I think he knows something's going on. If there's anything on your mind, reach out to Harper or General Arterius. They can help you a lot more than me right now."

"Understood, Sir."

"Take care out there-" Anderson began only for Shepard to cut him off again.

"If you've got the time, I'd have one more thing to say, Sir."

"Of course. What is it, Commander?"

"I'm sorry for being out of line earlier. It won't happen again, Sir," somehow her realisation about Anderson's perspective had won over the part of her that insisted on being right.

"I am the last person you own an apology to, Shepard. In fact, it's probably the other way around," the dark-skinned officer sighed. "We'll talk again soon. Stay save. Anderson out."

Suddenly confronted with a lack of things to keep her distracted from thinking about fighting against the things that had killed the protheans, Shepard remembered another item of her 'to-do' list.

Wrex.

The operation on Therum had made it clear that she and the krogan needed to talk about his behaviour as part of a unit. Rushing in alone might work for someone who was basically a down-sized Paladin with biotic abilities. Even with Blackwatch tagging along for now, something she and the general had already agreed on on their way back from Therum's surface, that kind of 'tactic' might get a non-krogan member of her team killed in the long run.

She wouldn't allow that to happen.

Remembering what Alenko had told her about the krogan's mainstay on the Normandy, she marched to the elevator and headed for the observation deck located by the crew quarters, a quick wipe of her hand over its turian-style lock opening the door in front of her. Finding the krogan staring at the silhouette of the Parnack drifting silently alongside her own ship, its white and red paintjob standing in a rather stark contrast to the predominantly green of the Normandy, Shepard had been about to call him out when he turned on his heel and faced her.

"Shepard. Good," he greeted quickly. "You and I need to talk about what happened on Therum. I would've said something earlier but then those guys decided to show up," it was clear that he was referring to the turians even if he didn't outright say it.

"I was about to say the same thing," she replied surprised, the idea that he was talking about something completely different than her already forming in her mind. "Why don't you go first?" she added as she realised the uncharacteristic sense of urgency the krogan seemed to display currently.

"Do you remember the krogan?" he asked

"The one you interrogated to death?" she replied with a question of her self, clearly remembering passing by the beaten corpse of the mercenary on Therum. "Otherwise known as torture?" It wasn't that she had any pity for someone who had taken part in the massacre that had evidently taken place in the was that there were certain rules she and the people working under her were bound to or at least should abide to.

"If you want to call it torture, do it. Won't change a thing. It's the way we handle these things on Tuchanka," Wrex shrugged. "Besides, he was dead anyway. The only thing I did was make it quicker," he added. "But he's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"He wasn't? You were the one who started with him."

"Well. Yes," the krogan shook his head. "It's about him but it's also not about him," he growled in frustration. As the bounty hunter began to pace from one end of the room to the other, Shepard began to worry. Not because she was scared but because of how strange it was to see a person like Wrex be this unnerved. "Do you know how our headplates only fuse into one large one as we grow older?" he asked while knocking against the thick, scarred hide covering his yellow skin.

"I do now."

"The krogan on Therum, he looked like a whelp," she remembered Wrex calling him just that shortly before dragging him off to 'interrogation',"his plates weren't fused one bit but he was already fully grown."

"So? He aged a bit weird. Happens in every species, doesn't it?"

"No. With us that's all wrong," Wrex said before shaking his head again and stopping his nervous pacing. "The plates having fused or not isn't about how you age. It's literally how long you've been alive. How much time the plates have had to come together. The whelp might've been as big as any other krogan but he definitely wasn't older than a couple of months. Only newborns have plates like that."

"What are you saying, Wrex?"

"Saren figured out how to grow his own krogan army. It's the only way a welp could be so big already."

"Could that be the reason he took your females? To breed your people," that sentence left a bad taste in her mouth. Knowing what she now knew about indoctrination turned the krogan loyal to Saren from a fierce enemy into just as much of a victim as the people they killed.

"No," Wrex dismissed her immediately."Did you even listen to what I said? No krogan could have grown up like that," as he sat down on the couch in a manner of defeat she didn't figure he had in him, Wrex did the krogan equivalent of sighing. "He's doing the one thing even the damn salarians considered unethical to do to us. And they're the ones who came up with a plague that neutered my people."

"I'm not sure I'm following you," the commander admitted while rubbing her neck. Although no one could have expect her to be an expert in krogan biology and history, she still felt like she should know what had the bounty hunter so worried right now. If she'd work with them from here on out, she figured she needed to learn more about their people from here on out.

"I think he's growing us in tanks, Shepard. Cloning himself an army to serve that Harbinger of his," the krogan spat in anger before bringing his fist down on the steel table in front of him, denting it with ease. Considering what had happened the last time an organized krogan army had fought a war, that thought was sufficiently terrifying and his reaction understandably. "Anyway," he said somewhat awkwardly after several moments of silence, "I thought you should know what we might be up against if I'm right."

"Yes. I should. Thank you," she shook her head as she considered the krogan sitting in front of her, his defeated stare fixed on something in the distance. "So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked after another moment.

"The way you acted Therum," she sighed. Even if it was evident how much this weighed on Wrex, she had to do this now. Otherwise it might be too late. "You can't go charging in like that, Wrex. I don't know how you did things before but you're part of a team now. And not everyone on that team is krogan. Taking risks like that, even if they pay off," she went on after another moment,"it could get some of us killed. If that doesn't change, I don't think I can keep sending you down with us. Either you play by our rules," Emily said as the krogan looked up.

"No need to finish that line of thought, Shepard" he injected. "Until I find my people, I'll do things your way. You have my word on that." By the sound of it he certainly had his priorities straight. While she realised it was still stereotypical to think that way, the N7 was again surprised that Urdnot Wrex, a bounty hunter that only seemed to look for his own profit in any matter, could be so concerned with something so much bigger than himself.

It was a remarkable sentiment.

Who knew what would happen if more of his people started thinking like that?

"I'm counting on it, Wrex."

* * *

 **11\. January 2415 AD, Armstrong Nebula, AN-493X**

AN-493X was the HSA designation of a small asteroid that, at some point in the very distant past, had been caught in the gravity pull of its local gas giant. With its lack of rare materials like Eezo and presence in a system known to be regularly visited by pirate bands operating from the Terminus Systems making it uninteresting for just about everyone, it was rare for people to set foot on its surface.

Today was such a rare occasion.

"Alright, no doubt. Those are definitely our guys, Captain," Miller's voice crackled through the radio of his hardsuit, producing one of the few sounds he had heard ever since they had left the pressurized interior of the shuttle and began marching over the barren surface of the asteroid. "Check the markings on their shoulder pats. External Forces. Balak's crew. Checkpot."

"Yeah. I see it," he replied while tracing the sigil through the scope of his older bullpup rifle, noting the three yellow stripes that had been painted just underneath the blue symbol identifying the black-armored batarian as a member of the Hegemony's expeditionary forces. "Anyone counting more than eight?" he asked as he watched the soldier climb out of the small, dirt-brown crater to their east and take his place next to the large construct his comrades had been busy with ever since Phantom Squad had snuck up on them. Evidently stolen form a stockpile of the Batarian Hegemony, the sigil of Batarian State Arms and coat of arms of the Hegemony having been covered with the same three yellow stripes visible on the batarians' armors, the rougly truck-sized dark device lacked the angular design of most batarian-made pieces of tech. Instead of looking like it had been drawn up by a lazy engineer who had only gotten the job because of family connections and corruption, the thing might as well could've been a piece of modern art, its smooth shape and almost flawless craftsmanship standing in stark contrast to the other gear Balak's guys had hauled with them or the shuttle that had brought them here.

"No. I got eight as well, boss," Mav, the third member of his team, confirmed.

"Hofmann?"

"Counting eight on the drone feed, Sir."

"Copy. Pick your targets and get set," as he felt a vibration shake the ground the same moment the device began to flare up with the telltale blue of an Element Zero drive core, Haugen interrupted his sentence and pressed himself close to the ground to avoid being hit by the ensuing wave of dust flying into their way and the risk of being exposed it would bring with it.

"Alright. This is new," Miller spoke into the radio as the cloud passed over their position, barely missing their prone forms and keeping their optical camoflagues intact for now. "What the fuck did those bastards come up with this time?"

"Damned if I know," Mav offered. "It's definitely doing something to the asteroid though."

"Yeah, no shit it's definitely doing something. The question is what, man," Miller called back.

"Now I don't wanna worry anyone," Hofmann chipped in not a moment later as Haugen started to notice what he was likely noticing as well. "But my HUD says we're moving."

"They're trying to deorbit this thing," the captain voiced his realisation.

"Deorbit the asteroid? Why the hell would they do that?"

"The why's irrelevant right now, Miller. The important thing is that we stop them. If it picks up enough speed we'll be blown right off this rock," Hofmann offered.

"And straight into space. Great. Thanks for making my day, Hofmann," the younger NCO sighed. "You know I joined the army to avoid this shit, right? Figured the marines are the ones who get spaced?"

"Funny, isn't it?" the soldier to his left offered in a dry tone as his barely visible form shifted ever so slightly when the small dust storm the machine had triggered began to fade with a new one already gathering at its origin.

"No. No it's not fucking funny, Mav."

"It kind of is, Miller."

"Say Hofmann. Why do I get the feeling you and Mav-"

"Alright. Cut the chatter, Phantom. They're not going to hit full-throttle as long as they're still here themselves. EF are fanatics but they're not suicidal." Haugen ordered before once more rising to his former position and resting his rifle on the now vibrating surface of a small rock roughly forty meters away from the batarians. "So no one's going to be blown into space just yet," he figured while scanning the terrain ahead to see if any more targets had made their way out of the crater. Satisfied to find the same eight soldiers as before, he decided that it was time to risk breaking radio-silence. Pushing down one of the buttons on the left wrist of his hardsuit, he opened a channel to the frigate that had brought them here and was currently waiting to pick them up as well. "Ain Jalut, this is Phantom-Lead. Be advised, we encountered Balak's men. They're currently attempting to deorbit the asteroid. Over."

"Yes. We saw that, Phantom-Lead. Do you need extraction? Over."

"No. No extraction. We're not aborting the mission yet. If Balak has his guys trying to deorbit asteroids, we need to know why. Phantom-Lead out."

"Thinking about capturing one of these guys, boss?" Hofmann asked as he took his previous position on Haugen's right, the bit of dirt he shifted in the process of doing so far too insignificant to tip the batarians off on the fact that they were being watched.

"If we get the chance? Yes. If we don't," he went on while zeroing in on the orange glowing data pads the batarian that looked to be in charge of the operation was carrying, an action the HUDs of his squad members would track thanks to the link between their armor and their weapons, "we'll make do with what's on that thing."

"If we get to it before the pilot realises what's going on, we could try the transport as well," Hofmann suggested, causing Haugen to follow the sergeant's own marker pointing at the batarian-made shuttle that had been used to transport the machine and the squad of soldiers to this position. "How many guys you think are in that, Sir? Two pilots, one additional crew?"

"Tops," the captain replied. "Mav," he began while drawing up a new plan in his head."Think you can breach us into that thing without killing all of them?"

"With a small enough charge they should be save unless they're standing right in front of our entry point. Can't account for them doing that though," the ASOC operative spoke before his invisible form shifted ever so slighty in a way that allowed him to get a better look at the shuttle. "But first we gotta find a way to the shuttle without the grunts making us. That's easier said than done."

"I know and I'm working on that," he replied before watching the otherwise dark device pulsate with blue light again, the fine cloud of dust slowly but steadily swirling up around it giving him an idea. While it'd compromize their optical camo, it'd also keep the batarians from seeing each other die.

Now they just had to be quick enough to keep any of them from making a sound as well.

"When the cloud rolls over them, get ready to move. We'll each take out our targets and head straight for the shuttle," he ordered as the dust cloud grew denser and faster than the one before, suggesting that the batarians had upped its power. "All clear?" he asked a moment later, wondering if Balak's crew was suicidal enough to hit full-throttle after all.

"All clear, Sir."

"Good. Ready up and mark your targets," the ASOC officer ordered while flashing his targeting laser at two of the batarians, red circles appearing over their heads and making them stand out despite of the decreasing visibility. When his squad had mirrored the action, more red circles appearing over the unaware External Forces soldiers, Haugen slowly but steadily rose to his feet. "Almost there."

To an observant and focused person, the ghost-like shapes of the four camoflagued soldiers would've become apparent after a few moments of looking at them, their instincts telling them that something just wasn't quite right about the distortions within the dust clouds even before they realised that the dust was starting to stick to the ASOC operatives. But due to being too distracted with the task at hand, appearing almost confused as to what the device was doing themselves, the External Forces soldiers, like many of their fellow batarians, be they slavers or EF as well, Balak's men never saw Haugen and the others before it was too late for them.

As he aligned the barrel of his gun with the first red circle, Haugen covered the last few meters between himself and his first target with an ease that suggested that he had far more experience fighting in low-G than he actually did. Aware that no one would hear his shot thanks to AN-493X having no atmosphere whatsoever, he pulled the trigger of his SR-8 thrice without even thinking that the sound of it could give away his position. When the bullets made contact with the backside of the batarian's head in the same instant, his kinetic barriers having no chance to trigger thanks to Haugen's rifle being a mere centimeter away from its target, a fine red mist quickly mixed into the dust storm and became the only thing that could've clued his second target off. However before the EF soldier could notice the mist or turn around to see his comrade's body hit the ground, the ASOC soldier repeated the process, another set of three shots leaving the barrel of his assault rifle and killing their target.

Watching his own red dots vanish alongside the ones of his fellow operatives, Haugen spun around to the direction of the shuttle to find three outlines already closing in on it. Intending not to keep them, he jogged to the edge of the small crater and slid down its side.

"Charge's already in place, Sir," Mav said over the radio as he spotted the small explosive package attached to the door of the shuttle and the three soldiers standing near it.

"Blow it," he instructed right as he took position in front of Mav, pressing himself against the grey and brown exterior armor of the craft. After the fuse lit in silence, setting off an equally quiet explosion that ruptured the seal of the shuttle's door, all Haugen had to do in order to open it was to pull on the exterior release. Intending to use the disorientation the explosion had no doubt caused in the crew to his advantage, the man spun around the edge of the now opened door, knowing that the batarian currently struggling to get up on his left would be taken care of by the second ASOC soldier who'd his step. Set on stopping the two pilots in the cockpit, one of which was currently reaching for a sidearm and trying to level it square at his chest, his optical camoflague being of little use at this distance, Haugen pressed on. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to disarm the pilot in front of him in time, the captain didn't even bother to consider him the one he'd like to take captive.

Hence, a burst of SR-8 rounds tore through the thin fabric of the flightsuit he was wearing, sullying it with dark-red blood. When the batarian dropped his pistol and collapsed to the ground in a manner much slower than usual thanks to the little gravity of the asteroid, he simply stepped over him and entered the cockpit just in time to catch the co-pilot in the attempt of wiping the shuttle's computers. Intending not to let that happen but also remembering his personal secondary objective besides stopping the batarian operation, he jabbed his rifle against the co-pilot's head hard enough to knock him to the side and cause a small crack to appear on the otherwise clear visor of his mask that quickly created a spider-web like apperance. Recognizing the opportunity as it presented itself to him, Haugen then threw the pilot out of his seat and leveled the barrel of his SR-8 at his already cracked mask, Miller joining him in the cockpit not a second later.

"Clear," he spoke into the radio before ordering the ASOC operative to get the batarian on his feet and move him to the much spacier crew compartment, taking a big step over the dead pilot who by now had bled all over the metallic interior of the shuttle, the tan colour of his flightsuit and the emblems sown on it now several shades darker.

As Miller shoved the co-pilot down next to the other captured crew member, Haugen briefly wondered if the force behind the push would finally cause the mask to crack. Luckily for his secondary objective that didn't happen.

"Miller, grab everything useful off of the EF guys outside. While you're at it, go check on the device and see if you can shut it down. Mav, you've got intel duty in here. Flight-logs, radio-transmissions, if it sounds valuable, you copy it," the captain ordered before receiving two brief affirmatives. Figuring that there was no longer a point in keeping his camo intact, a bit of blood and a lot of dust already coating his otherwise dark-green armor and making him partially visible, Haugen turned off the small device on his belt, causing the cloak to drop and the ASOC operative to appear clearly in front of the batarians. When Hofmann, the soldier who had stayed with him, did the same thing, Haugen turned towards him.

"This one's just rank and file," the sergeant offered with a shrug directed at the other captured batarian, the lack of even the most basic rank insignia on his flightsuit indicating that he had barely been out of training by the time he had deserted alongside Balak's men. "My guess is he doesn't know shit."

"Alright. We'll see about that. Get us into their frequency," he ordered. It was the only way they'd be able to talk to their captives now that the vacuum seal of the shuttle had been broken.

"Sir, shouldn't we let the spooks handle their interrogation? I mean getting people to talk is kind of their job, not ours," the senior NCO replied while lowering his own weapon, a shorter carbine version of the older SR-8 ever so slighty.

Put off by the sergeant's sudden disapproval, usually his team followed all of his orders, Haugen paused for a moment before forming a reply. He wasn't the type of commander who lost it whenever a subordinate voiced his doubts. When working with small teams that particular trait some sorry excuses of officers displayed would get him nowhere. He had always believed in letting his guys speak their mind. It was what was best for the squad and ultimately their mission. Besides, Hofmann wasn't just his second in command. They were friends. If he had doubts about his call, he'd hear them.

"No spooks on the Ain Jalut," Haugen countered calmly. "If these guys want to go all Krogan Rebellions on one of our colonies," the only reason he could think of why Balak would want to deorbit an asteroid was to use it as an improvised weapon against a human world, "we need to know now, not in the week it's gonna take to get them back to HSA space. By then it could already be too late."

"Back there it didn't look like they were that close to achieving it, Captain."

"We still can't take the risk. Copy that?"

"Copy that, Sir."

Good.

As the sergeant went about his task, Haugen kept his SR-8 on the two batarians, making sure that both of them knew what would happen if they tried to make a move now.

"Done. You should be able to talk to them now, Sir," the other soldier informed him a few moments later before stepping back from their captives and bringing up his carbine again.

"Why were you trying to move the asteroid?" Haugen asked after changing the comm channel to the batarian squad intercom's frequency, its somewhat poorer quality becoming evident as soon as the co-pilot replied with nothing but curses. Deciding that he didn't particularly fancy what the guy had to say about his mother, he cut him off with another quick jab of his rifle, this time aiming at his torso and not the already damaged mask. "Balak's plan. Now," he demanded.

"I don't know anything about any plans. I'm just a grunt who flies shuttles," the batarian replied before offering a cocky smile that showed of his many needle-like fangs.

"Come on, you're an EF lieutenant," Haugen countered before pointing his rifle at the blue rank insignia, a half-circle inside a somewhat bigger, completed circle. "You know exactly what you're supposed to be doing here."

"Guess again, human. You shot the one in charge," the batarian spat back before narrowing his eyes through his cracked mask and throwing a nod at the dead pilot behind them. "And even if I did know why I'll die on this rock, I wouldn't tell it to some primitive," another smirk followed that statement, making Haugen wonder if the batarian would still be so full of it if someone were to crack his mask completely.

"How sure are you about that?" he asked as before carefully pressing the SR-8's barrel against the biggest of cracks it had created before, applying just enough pressure to put a sense of fear into the batarian. Turning his head briefly to check if there was an omni-gel container on the corpse of the pilot, a substance that among other things could be used to fix a damaged mask, Haugen went over his options when he spotted it.

"As sure as I am that Telesha smiles on all of those who give their lives to secure our birthright of the Verge."

"That smile didn't do you any good during the Blitz, did it?" Haugen asked before suddenly and rather forcefully pushing the barrel of his rifle against the mask, causing a tiny piece to give in just enough for air to start escaping from its interior. As the batarian made a move behind his own back, likely in an attempt to reach for his own omni-gel, Haugen kicked his chest hard. When he fell over, he planted his foot on top of the hand carrying his omni-tool and started to apply pressure while keeping his rifle aimed at his face. "Start talking or your lieutenant bites it," he demanded before turning towards the other batarian.

"Please. I- I'm just a radioman!" the other captive pleaded while trying to aid his comrade with his own package of omni-gel, an action immediately stopped by the other weapon now aiming at his own face.

"Captain, you're going too far," Hofmann injected despite being the one who held the radioman at gunpoint. "If he dies, he's no use to us."

"Stay out of this, Sergeant," he ordered before slowly turning to the other captive. "So you're a radioman? What orders were given to you on the way here?" nodding at the suffocating batarian to reinforce his point, Haugen gave his ultimatum. "Time's running."

"I-I-" the radioman stuttered as he fearfully looked at his lieutenant, "we were supposed to conduct a field study, get an idea how the tech works before we use it on our target."

So much for knowing nothing.

"What target?"

"There's no target yet," he said quickly as Haugen noticed the co-pilot was already struggling to stay awake. A clear sign of oxygen depravation."It was just a field study. Right now we have no idea how the tech even works. We just stole a shipload of it from a depot and-"

"Bullshit. What's your target?" he demanded again as the co-pilot seized his struggling altogether. Time really was starting to run out

"Please, I swear there's no target! I told you, we don't even know how the cursed things work!"

"Sir, if you keep going, we're gonna lose the co-pilot and everything he knows," Hofmann said from his side.

It wasn't empathy that finally got to the captain, he wasn't going to feel bad for anyone who'd attempt what this group was likely trying to attempt, but pragmatism.

Hofmann was right. His own interrogation had failed.

The next best hope was HSAIS.

And for that, the EF lieutenant had to live.

Briefly turning to the sergeant and then to the radioman, who's fearful expression was clearly visible through his uncracked breathing device, Haugen nodded and then, alongside Hofmann, lowered his assault rifle, giving the radioman the signal to rush to the aid of the now unconscious batarian. Wasting no second, he applied the omni-gel on the cracks, the faint orange glow of the liquid settling into the broken material and sealing it shut again hopefully not coming in too late. After a painfully long moment of not moving had passed, the co-pilot began to breath again, ensuring that he could be interrogated in detail later on.

"Mav, do you have something for me?" he asked after changing the channel and interrupting the continued pleads of the radioman for the time being.

"Yes, Sir," the soldier nodded as he left the cockpit and looked at the scene in front of him, likely wondering what had happened in here while he had gathered the intel. "I got some flight-logs that survived the wipe. If we're lucky the Ain Jalut might make something out of them," he said."

"Good," Haugen nodded as well. "Cuff these guys and ready them for transport," he added. "Miller?"

"I got the omni's and the tablet, Sir."

"What about the device?"

"Bad news. It's getting worse and I can't find the off-switch," the soldier replied through the radio. "My suggestion is that we blow it. There's no way we can take that thing aboard the Ain Jalut the way it is right now. Might as well make sure Balak doesn't come back for it," he had a point. Something that could make an asteroid, albeit a small one, move out of the gravitational pull of a gas giant had no business being aboard a frigate.

"Acknowledged," Haugen replied before again changing the channel. "Ain Jalut, this is Phantom-Lead. We got two captives and require extraction. Be advised, we're about to conduct asset denial. So don't be surprised if something blows up near our LZ. Over."

"Copy that, Phantom-Lead. Your ride's on the way. Ain Jalut out."

As he left the shuttle and climbed up the small crater alongside the rest of his teams and the captives, finding the dust storm to be as intense as he had imagined it after Miller's transmission, Haugen only briefly grabbed a couple of large demolition charges from Mav, throwing one of them into the shuttle and saving the rest for the batarian device, before sending the two soldiers and his prisoners to the extraction point, not wanting to risk bringing either of the captives into the storm.

"And you really got no idea how this thing works?" he asked after making his way to Miller, only the green outline his HUD had put over the ASOC operative and the blue glow of the Eezo allowing him to locate the soldier in the first place.

"No, Sir," he said as Haugen inspected the smooth surface of the device, a closer look revealing that the dark coating wasn't actually the same tone of black External Forces armor used but actually closer to a dark shade of purple. Listening to his instincts when they told him that he should just blow it to kingdom come, he withdrew his hand, took a step back, tossed one of the remaining two charges to Miller and quickly lodged his own as close to the center of the device as possible while Miller did the same on the opposing side. "All set?" he asked while throwing a final look at the batarian piece of technology that for one reason or another didn't seem all too batarian to him.

"Yes, Sir."

"Then let's get the hell ouf of here."

* * *

 **49 Minutes Later, 11. January 2415 AD, HSASV Ain Jalut, Hangar Compartment**

After having been extracted Haugen had left his captives in the hands of the Ain Jalut's marine detachment and hurried off to being debriefed by his direct superior for the time being, Admiral Hackett, who had only been able to tell him that another frigate would be meeting them halfway to pick up the batarians and hand them and their intel over to HSAIS so that the Ain Jalut wouldn't have to leave its area of operations while the intelligence division worked on it. It hadn't exactly been a satisfactory outcome considering his own suspicion as to what Balak was planning but for now he just had to deal with it. He knew that Hackett was doing all he could right now, so he wasn't going to blame the man for something out of his control.

As he heard the doors of the elevator open behind him, Tore Haugen stopped the process of cleaning the last traces of AN-493X off of his SR-8 and looked up to where the dark-haired NCO was standing in a similar set of army green combat fatigues he himself was currently wearing.

"Captain," the man greeted as the door closed behind him.

"Sergeant," he offered back as he watched the man lean against one of the walls of the otherwise empty hangar, most of its crew was still sleeping, the expression on his face telling the captain all he needed to know. "If you've got something to say to me, just say it, Hofmann," he added casually. "Off the record, of course."

"Alright," his second in command nodded, taking his invitation. "What the hell was that down there, Tore?" he asked in an angry tone before folding his arms. "We don't treat prisoners like that. We're not the fucking Hegemony or some third-rate Terminus thugs. We don't do that shit to people."

"If we're right about what Balak wants to do with that tech, we could lose a whole colony any day now. That's a lot of lives we're talking about. There's no way I'll have that kind of blood on my hands because we waited for HSAIS to work its magic."

"So you tortured someone based on an 'if'?" the sergeant replied angrily. "That's crossing a line, man."

"If crossing the line is what it takes to stop Balak from killing millions of our people, you can bet your ass that I'll do it," the blonde captain offered as his own blue eyes met the equally blue eyes of his sergeant. "If that's a problem for you, I won't make you take part in it. Say the word and I'll sign a temporary transfer, no repercussions and no questions asked. Once the job's done, you can come back."

"You know exactly that I'd never leave Phantom."

"Then I can't promise you that you won't cross a line yourself, Hofmann."

"This isn't you, Tore," his friend said, not commenting on that possibility. "You've got principles."

"You're right," he nodded. "But until this is over, I don't have the luxury of sticking to them."

"If you go down this road, there's no guarantee you're coming back when we're done here."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

With that the two of the simply drifted into silence, going about their equipment checks as if the argument had never occurred. As he put the finishing touches on his rifle, a single thought kept his mind occupied. He wasn't going to let the batarian destroy a human colony. If he had to become someone he didn't recognize in order to prevent such a catastrophe, he'd do it in a heartbeat and without regret. Balak's picture was a clear one. Between the first raid on Mindoir and the Skyllian Blitz he and his family had already taken far too much from humanity. Thousands had suffered under his actions. And although Haugen had already given him a taste of vengeance on Torfan, the time that someone drew a line in the sand and made a stand against that monster was long overdue.

He'd gladly fix that.

* * *

 **12\. January 2415 AD, Cronos Station**

Pulling on the cigarette in his hand and staring at the star occupying the majority of the dimmed glass wall of his office, Jack Harper struggled to come up for an explanation for the message depicted on the terminal resting on the small desk at his right.

Months had gone by without the turian even trying to lure them out by contacting them directly. Why would he try to use this tactic now, after all of his allies knew that he had been compromized? Why not before when they might've fallen for it?

What had changed?

Was it the fact that Doctor T'Soni had slipped through his fingers again?

Did he want to put a stop to the people chasing him as soon as possible?

Was he gambling on the fact that he and the others would fall for this presicely because of how unlikely it seemed that he'd even try it?

Or was it perhaps actually a genuine cry out for help? Had Arterius managed to break the hold of the Harbinger?

For all intends and purposes, he should dismiss this right now and never think about it ever again. Saren Arterius was indoctrinated. Following his message would be downright stupid. An amateur move. Something no good spy would ever even consider doing.

So why was he in fact considering it?

Was it the increasing desperation that was pushing him?

The threat of an indoctrinated army of krogan?

The knowledge that every minute he spent considering this was another minute the turian could use to usher in the final stages of the Harbinger's plot?

Exhaling the smoke from his mouth, the director of Cerberus rubbed his brow. Until Section 13 managed to set in motion its own plan to use the Shadow Broker against Arterius, Shepard would be stuck waiting. Right now Feros was their only lead on Arterius and not using it might put too much time between them and the turian, eliminating every chance of stopping him before they even found him.

Thinking back to the last time he had sent someone chase after a hint he hadn't fully trusted, it had been the case of the Budapest and the now rogue Spectre, the former specialist looked at his own reflection in the black tile floor of his office, the piercing blue eyes, a 'gift' of his first encounter with an Object Omnicron, staring right back at him and reminding him of a lesson he had learned very early.

Only a fool made the same mistake twice. He knew that. If something similar were to happen to Shepard, it'd be his fault. If they lost someone else to indoctrination, the one to blame wouldn't be the Harbinger but his own judgment.

Drawing in another pull from the cigarette, Harper ceased the rubbing of his brow and straightened his back, eyes set right at the dying star in front of him.

Given the stakes, risking one frigate and one Spectre to possibly prevent something much worse simply added up. It was a ruthless calculation but ultimately he had to abide to its result the same way he had always done. It was what was best for humanity and ultimately, that was the standard by which he had to make his decisions. Muttering his apologies to an absent friend who like many others had died in the pursuit of stopping the Harbinger, the director dialed the frequency he had used to contact the commander the last time around, putting up a stoic expression and the illusion that he had a good feeling about this while waiting for her to pick up.

"Shepard," he greeted while dipping his cigarette into the ashtray. "There's been a development."

* * *

 _Codex: Batarian External Forces_

 _Often called the elite of the Batarian Hegemony, the External Forces is at times described as a state within a state, its unique standing within the Hegemony, namely that of being the only force regularly traveling out of batarian territory and establishing outposts and bases in otherwise unclaimed portions of the Terminus Systems, granting it an independence and autonomy otherwise not found anywhere within the stricly regimented, stratified society of the Batarian Hegemony where every caste and every citizen is in one way or another dependent on the rest._

 _Estimated to make up roughly a third of the batarian military, the much larger but rarely seen Internal Forces accounting for the missing two thirds, the External Forces is itself split into ground and space elements equipped with the best weapons Batarian State Arms produces. Traditionally seen as the proving ground for individuals belonging to the most influential families of the military caste, the External Forces are as much a political tool as they are a military outfit, the practice of sending 'undesirable' or 'illegitimate' offsprings to units with high attrition rates suspected to be rather common phenomenon among the high-born officer dynasties._

 _Although recent years have seen the External Forces perform poorly for reasons suspected to be linked to infighting within the batarian government, the expeditionary force remains numerous, motivated, well equipped and well trained._

 _While usually depicted as the most loyal soldiers of the regime, it should be noted that the limited insight into batarian society ever since their departure from the Council and self inflicted isolation suggests that the military outfit might've taken its description of a state within a state to its logical extreme, carving out its own empire in batarian space and fighting an unseen shadow war against other factions competing for power within the Batarian Hegemony._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Chapter 55. As promised, a bit sooner than usual. ( I almost managed to get back to my weekly scheduel with this one! Damn me. ... yeah don't get used to it.)**

 **Before I hit the chapter, I want to use this opportunity for a little endoresment, something I don't usually do (which means you know that it's good.) These last couple of months I've been helping someone else with drafting up a story with a setting I find rather interesting (not gonna give away too much for now.) Going by the wonderful name of 'Palaven's Dogs', it was written by the same guy who as some of you might remember helped me come up with over FORTY chapter titles,** **AdmiralSakai. Given the work he put into that and my own involvement in Palaven's Dogs, I figured it'd give it a small shout-out.**

 **And because I know I'll read it.** **(Because it's gonna awesome.)**

 **So, if you're looking for something actually decent (god knows a lot of things on this website aren't) hop on over there and check Palaven's Dogs** **out now!**

 **Now back to the chapter.**

 **So.. Shepard finally knows what's going on.**

 **Glad I got that over the bridge.**

 **I know it should feel super special and heavy for every character to learn this but at this point I've had so many reaper reveals, I'm really fucking glad that this is probably gonna be the last on-screen one for a long, long time. I felt like I was starting to sound like a broken record :p**

 **Also, we got a bit more Wrex and a bit more Kaidan.**

 **And, to come to the surprising lion share of this chapter (didn't think it'd take up that much when I started to write it), we also return to the Renegade!Background, Tore Haugen, and his own little story (which as you all know by now is going to eventually lead right into Bring down the Sky and the Season 3 Ending (yes, Bring down the Sky will take place AFTER the end of Mass Effect because from what I understand, that's the way it went down in the 'canon' version of the trilogy)**

 **I don't really have that much to say about that other than it's obviously meant to stand in contrast to what Shepard was worried about when being offered the N7 job some 20 chapters ago, becoming someone else.**

 **But you knew that, of course.**

 **So.**

 **I will now make a short list of what I HOPE I'll be able to bring into next chapter (never want these to exceed a certain length. I feel like 10k words are already stretching what's comfortable to read in one sitting (the way these chapters are intended to be read)**

 **56 is supposed to include:**

 **A return to Redford, Elysium and the IFS murder mystery (haven't forgotten about it, it's just a lot of other stuff has happened in many chapters... that haven't actually chronologically been more than a couple of days since he first go tthere)**

 **The continuation of the Paragade!Backgrounds 'sidestory', (putting that in quotes because well... he's gonna run into Shepard pretty soon again so it's actually going to lead into the mainstory again)**

 **The beginning of Feros.**

 **So.**

 **That's gonna be a lot of original content.**

 **You got that to look forward to.**

 **For the record we're at 487 reviews, 735 favorites and 820 follows.**

 **Not a lot of growth but hey, not a lot of time has passed since the last chapter. :p**

 **See you around next time.**


	56. Moving the Pieces

**Chapter 56. Moving the Pieces**

* * *

 **12\. January 2415 AD, HSASV Makalu**

It was no secret that sympathies for the IFS had surfaced throughout the HSA's armed forces after the Skyllian Blitz had seen the former enemies fight side to side on several occasions. Furthermore, it was no secret that a lot of younger soldiers, who themselves hadn't been around to experience the Fringe Wars, had come to develop a sense of revisionism in regards to the HSA's former enemies as a result of this short but intense period of unexpected comradery. Hence, Redford had already suspected that this wouldn't be as easy as picking out the one person who may or may not share some of the separatist's ideals and branding them Kahoku's killer.

However what he hadn't expected was to find that the situation on the Makalu, and likely the Fifth Fleet as a whole, was a lot worse than initially suspected. Over the past few days it had become evident, that their admiral's animosity over being refused the chance to even the odds with the batarians during the Blitz had spread throughout a good portion of the Fifth Fleet. While he wouldn't say that the entirety of the fleet was at a risk of being underwandered by separatist agents or worry about entire marine detachments suddenly mutineering against the crews they were supposed to protect, there was a worrying number of servicemen that could potentially be considered the IFS operatives responsible for the murder.

"What's the matter, Specialist?" Colonel Salib, the military police officer who was in charge of the investigation, asked after he let out a long sigh.

Closing the last of the requested service records, it was one of yet another soldier who had been on guard duty on the Kahoku's deck shortly before the man was found dead, he shut down the terminal and ran a hand through his blonde hair.

"Nothing. It's just that that was the last one," he explained. "I think it's about time that I talked to some of these guys now."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean you said it yourself after you looked at the crime scene. The guy was a pro. For all we know, something as simple as interviewing him could make him take extreme steps."

She had a point. Every now and again elite IFS operatives, which this one appeared to be, did go through drastic lengths to keep themselves from being captured, suicide attempts by poisoning or, which he was far more worried about given that he'd be close enough to get blown up himself, explosives being a rather common occurrence with the most dedicated separatist moles.

"I don't plan to slam my fist down and call everyone an Iffy just yet. I had something more subtle in mind," the specialist explained despite his worry. "I'd like to start with the lieutenant who's platoon was guarding the deck when it happened. See if he noticed anything or if some of his guys failed a check in."

"But Lieutenant Taylor was already questioned. I don't think asking him the same questions all over again is going to do us any good," the dark-haired officer stated from her side of the desk.

"It's not about what he might be able to tell me, Colonel," Redford replied as he looked at the woman who's service record, of course without her knowledge, had also been part of the ones he had looked into. In addition to having risen through the ranks of the HSAMC at an unusually quick pace, Colonel Salib's former superiors had been all to eager to point out that the woman had a particular talent for playing people, something that the specialist could recognize as an asset and, given their current situation, was inclined to treat as potential danger as well. "It's about looking at what happens after his guys realise he got pulled in again. It makes him seem more suspicious and in turn-"

"Might make the real Iffy a bit more careless."

"Exactly. The guy's a pro, sure," the Section 13 agent explained,"but trust me. Even the best pro's screw up." He could attest to that from personal experience. A good chunk of Section 13's training regiment consisted of making specialist fail the same kind of assignment over and over again because of some little detail, the logic behind it being that being made a fool of in training a hundred times was well worth doing it properly in the field once. If he was asked to list how often his late supervisor had told him that he had just died, he'd probably still be sitting here by the time it was his turn to knock on the pearly gates.

"I'll sent someone to get us Lieutenant Taylor's position right away," the colonel nodded before rising from her desk and walking towards the door of the small, makeshift office that the specialist had been given for the duration of his stay. "Are you coming?" she asked after realising that Redford himself had remained seated.

"Yes, of course," he offered casually. "You can go ahead already, I'll be with you in a minute. Just going to clean this up," he added while gesturing towards the desk.

"Alright," she replied, doing well to hide the hint of confusion he had stirred in her. "I'll sent you a location when I have it."

"Make sure people see you. If his guys don't notice that we talked to him, we might as well not do it in the first place."

"Not doing this for the first time, Specialist," the colonel offered quickly before turning on her heel, opening the door and vanishing into one of the hundreds of hallways of the dreadnought.

Waiting for several moments to make sure the colonel wouldn't come back to collect something she had forgotten, the specialist rose from his seat and, with a wipe of his omni-tool, interfaced with the officer's own terminal to make a copy of every new file that had been created on it since the last time he had done so yesterday. Colonel Salib was the closest thing he had to a partner right now and his current knowledge seemed to suggest that she was in fact just as innocent as she appeared to be. Nonetheless his instincts demanded that he kept up to date with all of her actions, not just the ones she wanted him to see. Finding nothing immediately remarkable, just like before, the specialist quickly destroyed any evidence of his intrusion, picked up the set of HUD glasses disguised as a regular pair of glasses and followed after the MP, again putting up the facade that they were working on equal footing and ignoring what it said about him that he felt that it was necessary to treat his allies like potential enemies.

* * *

 **Ten Minutes Later, HSASV Makalu, Crew Deck 5**

Weaving past the odd two dozen of exhausted looking marines marching out of the room under the orders of Colonel Salib, Redford tried to link as many of the faces as possible to the records he had read, the sheer volume of information he had processed lately making it all the harder to recognize just about any of them. Although he had a hard time to fit names to some of the marines, there was one thing that the specialist was certain of. If there was an IFS mole among these guys, he now knew something was going on. Which of course was his exact intention.

"I don't get it Ma'am, I already gave you my statement," the dark-skinned lieutenant muttered before wiping his sweaty brow and subsequently crossing his arms in front of his chest, covering the nametag and coat-of-arms stitched onto the gym shirt he was wearing. "The MP said that was all you needed," he added before leaning against the treadmill he had been using right until being interrupted by Salib.

"Well I'm the MP's colonel and I say that we need to talk again," the woman shrugged in return. "Do you have a problem with that, Lieutenant Taylor?"

Quickly glancing at the specialist who had chosen to sit down on one of the benches the marines had used for physical exersice just earlier, the broad-shouldered marine shook his head.

"Of course not, Ma'am," he muttered before loosening the grip on his own arms and folding his hands behind his back instead. "I'm happy to help with anything else you need," he added, sounding almost truthful. Not intending to break his own cover in front of Lieutenant Taylor by stepping out of what appeared to be a clear hierarchy, Redford waited for Salib to make her next move. After all, if the small rank insignia on his collar were anything to go by, the specialist was still the colonel's junior by several ranks.

"It's not as much what I need," the ranking officer in the gym offered while pointing at the blonde man," as it is what Captain Bradford here needs," offering a little wave at that from his position on the bench and continuing to be amazed by the sheer lack of creativity that had gone into the creation of his go-to alias, Redford could already tell that Taylor wasn't going to like him by the annoyed expression the lieutenant couldn't quite hide. "He's a forensic specialist from Arcturus who's going to help with the investigation from here on out," that was already a lot of truth for his liking but he didn't let it show, "and as such, he asked me to talk to some people again. Fill in the blanks to help him get a picture of what he's working with."

"But only if it's fine by you, of course," Redford injected quickly to maintain the image grunts like Lieutenant Taylor likely had of people like 'Captain Bradford'. Adjusting the glasses and the small HUD hidden in them to reinforce this non-threatening demeanor, the specialist had all the intentions to unnerve the marine later on. After all, the point of this wasn't to squeeze information out of him. It was to get people to talk.

"As I said, happy to help," Taylor offered again.

"He's all yours, Captain," Colonel Salib added not a second later.

"Great," he nodded. "So, Lieutenant Taylor, why don't we start with the changing of guard? From my understanding, your platoon arrived as scheduled to rotate out the last security detail but was initially understaffed, leading to a delay in the procedure, correct?" A delay he himself suspected to be intentional not on the part of Taylor but on the part of the one responsible for Kahoku's death. Although several hours had passed between the changing of guard and the discovery of the murder, he could personally attest to the fact that the few precious minutes that delay had bought could already be used to set in motion an assassination attempt.

"Yes. That's correct. One of my guys had to go to the medical bay and I sent one of my corporals with him to make sure he actually went there."

"Sounds like you don't exactly have a lot of faith in the discipline of your soldiers, Lieutenant."

"Of course I don't. It's not exactly a secret that morale in the Fifth has been low since the Blitz. I only got here three months ago and already had more sick calls than during any other assignment," glancing at the colonel and looking around the empty gym before deciding to be genuine, Taylor went on, "if you ask me, it's a wonder anything gets done around here with all the sorry excuses of soldiers walking around this place. Now that Kahoku's not here to run the good part of the fleet tight enough to make up for the rest, I think you can start counting the days till the Fifth needs to be disbanded or reformed or something like that."

A more honest assessment than he had expected.

Probably a bit over-dramatic as well.

Going from leading an elite biotic assault unit to being transferred to one of the least desired postings in the HSA navy had obviously left Taylor frustrated, that much he could already tell. But what he really would've liked to know was who or what the marine had messed up to get to her. The lieutenant's service record had been strangely devoid of any particular reason that would've caused his commanding officer to transfer a powerful biotic officer, which were rare enough as it was, to something as mundane as leading a security detachment far away from the all-biotic shock companies of the HSA Marine Corps.

"So you took over the next rotation two men short."

"Initially. Corporal Wattana returned to his post as ordered after dropping off the sick-call."

"And you rest your case that the absence of these two soldiers didn't compromise your security detail?"

"Yes. Two men aren't going to make a difference. The entire deck is wired with surveillance equipment and there's nothing that gets by the security checkpoint without someone noticing."

"Except the murderer of Admiral Kahoku, apparently," Redford pointed out before quickly going on with his farce and ignoring the angry glare the marine shot him from where he was standing in the gym. "It was after midnight when you figured out that something was off and went to check on Kahoku. Do you remember the orders you gave when you found the admiral?"

"I called for a medic, ordered a lockdown of the deck and went to check on him."

"Which is why your prints were all over his body."

"That's usually what happens when you try and resuscitate someone," the underhand suggestion that Taylor assumed Redford had never been in a similar situation didn't have to be voiced for the specialist to understand where the marine was going. Not that it bothered him. He had nothing to prove to the lieutenant.

"Of course, my apologizes," Redford replied, still playing into the marine's expectations. "Now, I understand that you already went over this in your report but where there any suspicious activities prior to your discovery of the body? Anything out of the ordinary like a missed check-in?" There was a reason he was asking something as specific as that and both men knew.

"The two guys assigned to the port observation deck reported in late. I chalked it up to them sleeping on the job or stargazing to pass time."

"Privates James and Snijders," the specialist clarified from memory. "They were reprehended for this by you?"

"Yes. I told them to square up or face disciplinary action," if he hadn't already gotten the feeling that Taylor ran his new platoon tight because of a mixture of his own resentment for the assignment and a very real problem with discipline, Redford would've begun to suspect it by now "Guard duty on a dreadnought isn't as pointless as some marines like to think. If anything, Kahoku's death proves that much."

"So you suspect that their failure to do their job indirectly led to the admiral's death?" he asked, clearly accusing the two of them to draw a specific reaction out of Taylor.

"What? No, I don't," the lieutenant shook his head, rushing to their defense just as Redford had hoped he would. "Besides what I already told you about the surveillance equipment, there were three more posts between them and the admiral's office. There's no way anyone would've gotten through there unnoticed, no matter how lazy the two of them were," folding his arms again and making no effort to hide his annoyance whatsoever, the lieutenant shrugged. "I thought you said you read the report," he added accusingly.

"I did. My apologies," the specialist in disguise offered before pushing himself of the bench and considering the marine for another time. He definitely had gotten Taylor riled up enough to have the desired impact judging by the way his jaw was now clenched tight enough to make his teeth grind. "Ma'am, I believe I have what I need," he told Colonel Salib. "Thank you for your cooperation, Lieutenant Taylor," he added while extending a hand to the marine who begrudgingly shook it.

"My pleasure, Captain Bradford," Taylor replied, the grip on Redford's hand strong enough to reassure the specialist that he had had the desired impact. Angry about his assignment or not, Taylor would talk to someone and that someone would talk to other people until eventually, the right person got the impression that he was on the wrong track.

And once that happened, he'd make his real move.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, Armstrong Nebula, BC-313 New Dawn**

"That'll be all, then Colonel Petrovsky," the woman nodded before closing the link to one of the men in charge of managing the number of former HSA personal that had decided to join their cause recently, his own experience with a change of loyalty making him the natural choice. "Captain Taylor, walk with me," she called into the room and turned around to find the dark-skinned XO already rising to his feet, ready as always.

"Yes, Admiral," he replied briskly before falling in behind her and following her out of the New Dawn's bridge and towards one of the more secluded sections of the deck, the skeleton crew operating the vessel ensuring that they didn't have to go very far before finding a quiet place. "I take it we ran into problems?" he asked a few moments later after she had come to a halt.

"Our operative on the Makalu finally got the opportunity to reported back," Drescher said as she looked down the light-grey corridor ahead of them, the spots where makeshift repairs had been made to damage sustained in the long period the New Dawn had spent adrift in space clashing with the otherwise excellent craftsmanship of the IFS' former shipwrights.

"And?" the officer asked in return, looking down the same corridor himself.

"And Kahoku's dead," Drescher offered, the fact that she had always carried a lot of respect for the late admiral adding weight to her tone. "Our attempt to turn him went bad and subsequently our operative was forced to eliminate him," it wasn't the first time that an HSA officer had refused their offer to change sides and payed the price for it. However it was the first time that it had hit someone she had known personally.

"I see," the XO replied, maintaining the strict and professional attitude that had made her value him so deeply. "Are they at risk of being caught?"

The admiral shook her head. "Not yet. But the HSA's investigation seems to be getting closer every day. From what I understand Arcturus got some of their best operatives involved."

"Section 13?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"At least one that we know of."

"So time's running against us."

"As always."

"I take it the operative's looking for a way off the Makalu now?"

"Yes."

"And you want me to handle that?" the man figured.

"No, actually," the admiral sighed before explaining the operative's plan, having yet to reveal the captain why she felt like telling him in private. "Their plan of extraction has been planned since the day they set foot on the Makalu. They'll trigger an explosion in one of the ship's critical components and use the commotion to make their escape."

"Sounds decent enough."

"If by decent you mean killing hundreds of sailors to cover their tracks, then yes. It does."

"If you expect me to feel sorry for them, Ma'am, don't. It's war," the man offered dryly, "and they made their choice when they enlisted with the enemy."

This was where their opinions had come to differ. Taylor, having spent all but the last months of his career fighting on the 'dirty' ground as a Paladin pilot instead of taking part in the 'clean' space conflict of the Fringe Wars held none of the respect that Drescher herself had developed for their former oppressors and foes. Like many IFSDF soldiers, Ronald Taylor had lost a lot of close friends to the HSA's attempt to subdue the rebellion in its outer colonies and like just about half of the officers that had managed to make it to this point, he still held onto the believe that the HSA remained the single biggest danger to them. He paid no heed to the alien slavers and marauders encroaching on humanity with every day and didn't approve of the decision to use the sentiment the short but intense alliance that had occurred during the Skyllian Blitz on Drescher's own orders to the IFS's advantage and to focus on the much bigger threats revealing themselves to mankind as it found its stride in a galaxy filled with the same alien life that had alluded it for nearly three centuries of Element Zero fueled space travel. To him the HSA would always be the enemy and no krogan, batarians or ,as of lately, geth would ever change that.

Although the remnant of a time long past, it wasn't necessarily bad to have someone with that mindset in her inner circle. No matter how much times changed, people like Ronald Taylor served to remind her of the inital reasons for the Fringe Worlds' rebellion and everything that had followed it. And should she ever turn her back on those very principles, he'd remind her and ensure that she stayed true to what so many of them had died fighting for. A future where the outer territories of humanity were free to make their own choices, safe from those who sought to exploit them and turn them into just another cog in a machine that couldn't care less about the actual people living their lives in them.

"There's something else you should know about the Makalu, Ronald."

Here came the part she hadn't been looking forward to. Cold or not, she worried what this news would do to the man.

"What is it?"

"Our operative forwarded a list of people stationed on the Makalu. And your son is one of them."

For a brief moment she could see a hint of emotion on Captain Ronald Taylor's face. But as quickly as the crack in his facade had appeared, it vanished. Whatever he felt in regards to that revelation being buried under the same complete commitment that had allowed him to walk away from everything at the end of the Fringe Wars and flee alongside the small remainder of the IFS' naval forces that had refused the senate's orders to stand down.

"Then there's nothing else I can do for him," her XO replied, showing her what she already should've known.

To Ronald Taylor the HSA would always be the enemy, no matter who's shape they took.

* * *

 **14\. January 2415 AD, Bekenstein, Milgrom**

"How is that guy still on the same glass?" the specialist muttered while pretending to be occupied with the drink in front of him and catching a glimpse of the man in the blue suit in the reflection produced by the polished window that separated him from the rest of the city's colourful skyline and a very deep drop.

"Some people like taking things slow," his partner, who was observing the whole scene from an adjacent rooftop, replied.

"Is that supposed to be a double entendre?" he replied after taking a brief sip from his own glass, doing his best to make it seem like he was actually enjoying the taste of the beverage, the knowledge just how much this single glass had costed HSAIS already making it that much more bitter.

"I'll leave that decision up to someone else."

"Speaking of decisions," he spoke into the small radio of his watch, "I think we need to make one here. He's been here for two hours already. We need to make a move before our window closes."

"Doesn't look like he's leaving any time soon from here. I say we wait it out, stick to the plan."

"Hmm," he gave a half-reply.

Said plan relied on two things. Their mark's own arrogance that he could actually pull off the fake-heist that had been used to lure him to Bekenstein and the fact that he had bought the lie that the HSA considered him to be dead at the hands of the Shadow Broker. The latter part obviously wasn't the problem, otherwise he never would've shown up on a human colony. What worried the specialist was the reason he had come here in the first place, namely stealing something they knew he had already been looking for while working for the Shadow Broker. They knew Okuda didn't work alone. He had an otherwise unknown female partner to help him with things like that. As he looked around, spotting no person who could feasibly be that partner, his gut was telling him that something about the raid had gone haywire and that they really were running out of time to grab Okuda.

"What are you doing, Magic?" Yo-yo asked as he set the glass down on an empty table and began moving to the two person table their mark had been sitting at for the past two hours and biding his time.

"You're gonna improvise, aren't you?" she asked with a sigh.

Given the trouble they had gone through to lure the agent out, he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

"Yep."

As Morneau crossed the restaurant, passing by a number of people who likely belonged to the local colonial elite, he noticed that by the way he was slowly lowering his wine glass, his mark was realising he was being approached by someone.

"Fine. Do what you have to. I'll be here, making sure no one shoots you while you're at it," after the quick complaint, his earpiece and radio went silent, both specialists knowing that any further communication between them may blow their already fragile covers prematurely.

Not that he figured they'd last much longer.

"Do I know you?" the man in the dark-blue suit asked as Morneau sat down opposite to him, being completely uninvited but still appearing like he belonged. He had to give it to him, for a man in his fifties, Okuda didn't look that much older than him from up-close. If he hadn't tracked his every move to this point, he might've worried about having gotten the wrong guy.

"No, but I know you," he replied while casually hanging his suit jacket over the wooden chair in a manner that kept up the illusion that he was the one the man had been waiting for. "You're Keiji Okuda. HSAIS, Bureau for Field Work, Section 4, Asset Acquisition," he had memorized that part a long time ago. "You basically got paid to be a thief. That is until you decided to change employers."

"You know what they say, do what you love and you never work a day in your life," Okuda chuckled before folding his hands on the table in a manner that appeared extremly casual. "What about you? Internal Affairs? Or good old Section Nine? What was it they call those guys? Cleaners?"

"Neither," Morneau replied as he mirrored the man's posture, intentionally revealing his watch in the process.

"I see. Thirteen then?" Okuda asked while scratching his chin and not so subtly glancing at the device on his wrist.

"Bingo," the specialist replied before covering up the faint bluish glow of the watch again.

"I have to say, I'm flattered. I didn't think I'd be that important," Okuda smirked as he rubbed his hands together. Watching this behaviour, Morneau couldn't help but realise how surprisingly unsurprised the rogue agent appeared to be. There was only really one logical explanation, one that would explain his gut feeling about this mission.

"You knew this was a set-up," he had to, otherwise he'd be a lot more nervous about being confronted by HSAIS. Well that or he had simply gotten tired of being on the run.

"No. I wouldn't say that I knew. That's too strong of a word, " the older man shrugged. "Let's say I hoped it'd turn out to be one."

Close enough.

"Why's that?" Morneau asked while waving away the waiter closing in on their table. Much to both the woman's and the restaurants dismay, neither of them would be ordering anything else right now.

"Because I want a deal," Okuda offered before taking another sip from the glass of wine and placing it next to the opened bottle resting on the table. Evidently savoring the moment it took Morneau to comprehend that offer, the Section 4 agent looked out of the window of the penthouse restaurant, observing the neon ligthshow of the dozen smaller skyscrapers surrounding the most central one they were in right now, before he continued speaking.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to find me this quickly. Figured I'd have some time to enjoy Bekenstein. See the captial, have a romantic date with my woman, maybe make a couple of additions to my collection while I was at it," as a smirk crossed his lips, Morneau sized Okuda up. "As I am sure you know, I've always been something of an art curator." The personality assessment had certainly been on point. It took a special kind of arrogance to face what could turn into an assassin and pretend to be the one in control of the entire thing.

"Well, sorry for ruining your plans," the specialist replied before leaning forward in the chair. "As for how we found you this quickly, that one's really your own fault," he went on, figuring to at least make a dent into the man's ego before he considered his offer. "We knew you'd be coming here. So the only thing we had to do was use a facial recognition VI and pick you out of the city crowd. That's not exactly witchcraft."

"Facial recognition VIs in public places," Okuda whistled. "You know, sometimes I think the Iffys might've been onto something when they called us an oppressive police state."

"Maybe. Maybe not," discussing that subject wasn't why he had come here. "History's written by the victor. Doesn't really matter if they had a point after they lost, does it?"

"What a strange reply from a specialist nonetheless. Aren't the lot of you supposed to be loyal to the bone?" the thief smirked again. "Now if I didn't know any better, I would've said you were rooting for the other team back then."

"Let's just cut to the chase," enough of playing the agent's games. "You committed high treason, Okuda. That means a life sentence is waiting for you. So if you want a deal, you have to give me something really valuable," Morneau explained, leaving out the detail that he couldn't actually make a call of that magnitude by himself and gambling on the fact that Okuda didn't know that.

"Since you put it like that, I'm going to assume that you already have something in mind," he wasn't wrong. "What do you want?" Okuda asked while pouring more wine into his half-empty glass.

"I want to know how you contacted the Shadow Broker directly while you worked for him. No middlemen, no proxies. The man himself."

"So HSAIS is dealing with the devil after all? I knew it'd only be a matter of time," the former agent replied with a chuckle. "But sure. If it gives me my immunity, I'll tell you how to contact the man himself. With an insurance of course, wouldn't want to force you to come back for me, now would I?" as he brought up his omni-tool, Okuda went on. "I think this is the point where you give me some insurance yourself. Something that'll prove to me that you'll uphold your end of the deal and won't put a bullet into me the moment you have what you want."

"You know exactly that the only guarantee I can give you for that is my word."

"That doesn't really sound all that promising to me, Specialist. If you want this," he waved at his omni-tool, "I'll need a little more than th-" having heard enough of Okuda's false sense of control, Morneau slowly lifted his shirt just enough to reveal the pistol hidden below it. It managed to silence the man rather effectively.

"The only deal I can give you is that if you give me what I want and stay away from Council space, the official version of this mission will be that you never showed up and that we've got no idea where the hell you are."

"That's not the kind of immunity I had in mind," Okuda shrugged as the omni-tool disappeared. "Maybe life in jail doesn't sound so bad after all? I heard the food got a lot better since I got pardoned."

"It's the only thing that I'll give you," Morneau replied while readjusting his shirt. "I suggest you take it. Because honestly? People like you don't get deals or face a judge. They end up having weird accidents. If anyone else had been sent after you, we wouldn't even be sitting here in the first place. So do the smart thing, Okuda. Give me what I want and walk away," it was another gamble. He was counting on the fact that the thief turned agent turned Shadow Broker operative turned thief again liked living. In his opinion, the odds of that being the case were pretty high.

Sighing in a mixture of frustration and amusement, he watched the older man type on his omni-tool. "You should know that the Broker tried to lock me out of his network after I," he paused for a moment, "had a change of heart about being his employee. But given that I already assumed something like that might happen, I went through the trouble of ensuring that I wouldn't actually be the one getting locked out," as the older man looked at Morneau and likely noticed his doubt, he explained. "You see, the beauty of only working with codenames and secret identities is that it's pretty easy to pretend to be someone else. As far as the Broker knows," he went after quickly showing him a communication channel no doubt belonging to the Broker's network, "I'm an operative of his inner circle working from the Citadel," causing the hologram to disappear with a wave of his hand, Okuda slowly reached for something on his belt, causing Morneau to slowly reach for something himself. Although he didn't think he'd try something, it was better to be ready. While he was sure he was the faster draw, he wasn't going to take any chances.

Dying in a restaurant of all places would just be embarrassing really.

"And this works, why?" he asked, skeptically watching the man unclip his omni-tool and slide it over the desk.

"Because as you'll soon notice yourself, the Broker doesn't think he can be wrong. Especially not lately. If you think I'm arrogant, you'll have to come up with a new word entirely for that guy."

"You know what happens if I have to come back," he muttered after quickly checking the comm-channel for himself.

"Only if you find me again," Okuda shrugged as the specialist prepared to leave. "I take it we're done here?"

"Yeah. We're done here," Morneau nodded before suddenly feeling the need to clarify one last thing. "Say, why'd you do it? Personal believes? Disillusion?" he asked halfway through getting up, pulling on the dark jacket as he waited for a reply of the now chuckling man. He wasn't sure why he was asking, Okuda had turned into a means to an end and now that he had served his purpose, he shouldn't waste any more time on a traitor like him. Then again, it was never wrong to try and understand someone else's actions, was it?

"None of that sentimental shit," he laughed, dropping his previous etiquette."I did it out of simple self-preservation. Unlike these morons, I know a disaster when I see it," the former agent offered with a wave of his hand, loud enough for the couple sitting directly behind them to hear, "Even before Eden Prime got hit, it was obvious that Council Space was heading for something bad. Since I didn't plan to be around for when whatever is making us and the turians so damn nervous finally shows its face, I decided to change careers beforehand." He had another word for that kind of self-preservation. "Now before you worry about security breaches, I don't actually know what it is. I just know that it's obviously really bad. Call it a gut feeling."

Coward or not, he was savvy for a thief. Who knew? In another, less self-centered life Okuda might've even ended up some place else, being more than just a pardoned thief with a lackluster sense of loyalty.

"If you know that something's coming, you've got even more of a reason to stay away from HSA space," Morneau figured, glad to have learned that the chances of him having to come back for Okuda seemed to be slim to none. With everything going on, chasing an arrogant turncoat was the least of his priorities.

"Yes I do," he nodded while grabbing the bottle of wine and filling up his glass again. "You wouldn't happen to have any particular suggestions for a romantic get-away for me and my associate, would you?"

Alright. Maybe not entirely self-centered.

What the hell. The further he'd get him to go, the less likely it was he'd ever have to speak to him ever again.

"The loneliest, most uncharted place the two of you can find."

"That bad?"

"That bad."

"Good thing I won't be around then," the thief muttered before raising the wineglass. "Here's to my new life. Free of whatever the fuck you're gonna have to deal with soon enough."

Watching as the older man emptied his glass in one sip, Morneau merely shook his head before walking away. It really was a good thing that he wouldn't be around for their fight. Men like Okuda weren't the kind of people you could count on when it came down to it. Although knowing what he knew, the specialist couldn't exactly blame the rogue agent for wanting no part in what was to come. Fighting the impossible fight wasn't everyone's cup of tea. When he had left the table without another word, the first thing Morneau did was to wait for his partner to speak up, something he knew she couldn't resist.

"Well, that went better than expected. We didn't even have to interrogate him. Why can't every op be like this one? We show up, they give us what we want and we go home."

"Because then we'd be out of a job, Yo-yo," he figured on his way to the elevator, ignoring the glare the waiter from earlier was throwing at him for having taken up a lot of their time without actually leaving that much money at their place.

"We could switch to the private sector," the other specialist figured as the doors of the penthouse elevator opened, three people, a turian, an asari and a human all clad in formal evening wear fit for their species, stepping out before him. As the specialist noticed the small, decorative three-pronged red star attached to the collar of the human's white suit jacket, he waited for them to pass before whispering in his radio again.

"Yo-yo, since when do colonial administrations allow mercenaries on their planets?"

"They usually don't?" it was as much a statement as it was a confused question.

"Then why did I just walk past three Final Wave mercs?"

"On the paper the Final Wave is a private security contractor, not a merc outfit," the unseen woman figured. "And since they're the Broker's go-to guys, they're probably here for Okuda," Yo-yo figured before asking Morneau something that he himself had started to wonder right now. "But that's not our problem anymore, is it?"

Quickly putting his hands in between the closing elevator doors, forcing the security mechanism to trigger and causing the doors to open again, Morneau took a step outside to looked the way he had come from, finding an abandoned two person table, a half-emptied and most likely unpaid for wine bottle and three confused mercenaries right where Okuda had been not two minutes ago.

"Magic?"

"No," he replied with a faint grin while retreating back into the elevator. "Not our problem anymore."

Really pretty savvy for a thief.

* * *

 **2156 CE, Pranas System, Sur'Kesh, Outer Districts of Talat**

Slandering through the upper layers of one of the large structures standing against the jungle below as a testament of the salarian taming of every inch of Sur'Kesh's surface, he gave the impression of idly looking at the banners belonging to this arcology's ruler, a minor fiefdom sworn to serve the house of a somewhat bigger dalatrass that in turn had given her loyalty to a vassal of one of the many great dynasties that ruled over most of his people. Ignoring the sting in his gut that the sight of the banner produced, he picked up a fruit and quickly payed for it in the local currency, not bothering to think about how his society had been engineered to be fractured to the point where no one could hope to actually challenge the rule of those simply born into power down to the point where different parts of Sur'Kesh still used different kinds of money.

"Thank you," he heard the merchant call behind him as she realised how much the other salarian had actually given her. Not wanting to drag any more attention to him, he simply walked along in the knowledge that he had at least improved one life today.

"And I'm saying that you can't sleep here unless you're paying the proper tax," a frustrated security officer sighed as he spoke to what looked like a salarian that judging by the disformed horns on his head and far too broad stature was just one gene shy of being a lystheni, a distant cousin of his species of which just about every member had taken their leave from Council Space at the first possible moment, tired of being the doormat of salarian society for the sole reason of having been deemed more primitive and brutish than his own people by a generation long dead, gone and forgotten.

"I did pay. Stop bothering me already!" the other salarian insisted in a slower pace than most of his people, rising to his feet and producing another groan from the security officer despite being nearly a head taller than him.

Deciding not to interfere, he went along, knowing all to well that they were both victims of the same system. As he climbed down another set of stairs, passing another layer of the market in the process, the teal salarian went on for another short while before coming to a halt in a narrow alley way, knocking on an unimpressive door of an unremarkable and poorly visited teashop.

"Can't you see the sign? We're closed," a voice replied from the other side.

"A weary wanderer is always welcome, no?"

"I said we're closed," the voice insisted. "Come back when you learn to read."

"Then I shall return when the Jeshesh blossoms," he muttered while lifting the medallion hidden under his robe. Not a second later the door was pulled open.

"Ginon!" the salarian on the other end called before pulling him into an embrace. "Feels like it's been forever," his friend added before letting go of him and subsequently shutting the door. "What brings you to Sur'Kesk? Thought you were done with this place?"

"I was," Ginon admitted while rubbing his neck and nodding at the few guests occupying the 'closed' teashop, all looking like the kind of people who'd stand out even in the dense crowds that had flooded the market not two hours earlier and all being part of the network he had built in this fiefdom exactly because they were outcasts. "But something changed. Had to return home," he explained as he took a seat at one of the table where two of the guests were playing a game of Vaelo too fast-paced for non-salarians, the swift movement of the pieces and rapid changes of who's turn it was relying on his species' naturally quicker thought-process to be enjoyable. He reached for one of the pieces currently not in the game and flipped it in the air a couple of times before wiping his thumb against the unmarked side of the coin-like piece of plastic, producing a faint golden glow not a second later.

"What did?" his friend asked as he pulled a cabinet sideways to reveal the communications array hidden behind it.

This was the beauty of everyone believing they had been dead for two millenia. No one ever bothered to look for them, not even the vaunted STG who maintained a large, of course highly classified, base not far from where the League of One had decided to place their own base of operations on the salarian homeworld. In a way it was the ultimate mockery of the dalatrasses and their pawns of the Salarian Union.

"The geth attack on Council Space," Ginon explained as he tossed the golden-glowing piece over to the tea-shop owner who caught it with ease before putting it into a slot of the array. "Change of behaviour was unexpected, uncharacteristic," watching as a hologram of a twelve-pointed, colorful flower assembled itself from the array hidden behind the cabinet, the teal salarian picked up another piece and began juggling it between his fingers, a habit practiced to the point of perfection.

"Worried about the consequences?" the shop-owner asked just as Ginon caught the small disk between two of his fingers and looked at the glyph etched into it, this one representing the lowest class of pieces available in Vaelo, a pawn, and allowed a smirk spread across his face.

"No," he corrected while dropping the piece back to where he had picked it up and before walking over to the hologram, activating it with a touch of his palm and causing the center of the flower to expand in recognition of a league member, "eager to use the opportunity."

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 14. January 2415 AD, Theseus System, HSASV Normandy**

"I said that I'm receiving a broadcast on an HSA frequency, Commander," the pilot of the stealth frigate repeated over the intercom of the conference room as Shepard looked at the assembled ground team and the projection of the turian Blackwatch lieutenant joining their briefing to fill in for the rest of her team occupied elsewhere on the Parnack. "And before you asked, I checked. Twice. It's not a glitch. It's really there."

"I wasn't aware that the HSA maintained a presence on Feros," the turian lieutenant was the first to speak up. "Or this far in the Attican Traverse at all."

"Thing is, we don't," Shepard replied, keeping her confusion in check. If Harper had gone out of the way of telling her that they were going to Feros solely because of a message the person they were chasing had sent, he definitely would've told her about any human presence on the planet below as well.

"Could be the geth trying to lure us into an ambush," Williams muttered from her seat at the table. "If they can jam our comms, who's to say they can't mimic them?"

"She's got a point Ma'am," Alenko injected. "The geth love to ambush their enemies and they've had more than enough time and source material to figure out how to replicate our comms ever since Eden Prime. It didn't take them that long to crack quarian encryption during their rebellion, did it?"

"No, it didn't," the other biotic in the room, or rather her hologram, replied. "You are certain that there's no human presence on Feros, Commander?"

"At least not one that I know of," Shepard shrugged.

"Understood," Lieutenant Callius added as her mandibles clicked against her face plates in an unknown expression that likely only the turian detective and possibly Wrex could place correctly. "Ambush or not, following the signal is our best option. Besides the message that led us here, we don't have anything to go by and considering the dense clustering of prothean structures on the surface, scanning for something of value simply isn't a feasable course of action."

Subconsciously rubbing her hand at the mention of something prothean, the last times she had come into contact with technology of their precursors still fresh in her memory, Shepard suppressed the frown that could've revealed her own concern in regards to what was going on with her.

"I take it we're going in as fast as we can?" the N7 turned Spectre asked as she returned to the conversation. "I don't exactly want to take any chances of the geth spotting us. Camo or not, who knows what they've come up with since Therum," that was another part that made fighting the geth so ridiculously difficult. If they found a solution to a tactic of their foe, they didn't need time to train their troops in it. Like a software update, they simply altered their code and altered their behaviour from one moment to the next.

"Yes. My team is already preparing itself for the drop," hence their absence. "I suggest that you ready your own squad as well. A more detailed plan of attack will be forwarded to the Normandy shortly."

"Understood," Emily nodded, aware that she technically could make up her own plan of attack if she wanted to, being a Spectre and part of an entirely different military did put her out of the turian chain of command. But considering that General Arterius had been to only one to be completely truthful with her, and not to mention was far more knowledgeable with the situation they were dealing with, she figured following his plan was her best option. As the hologram faded out of existence, it didn't take long for one of her crew to speak up.

"Heh. Heading straight into a geth ambush," the krogan chuckled as he pushed himself of the wall, not having bothered to try and sit in one of the chairs clearly too small for him. "You really know how to keep things interesting, Shepard." Although he was as eager as usually, the commander hoped that their last conversation would have the desired effect and that the bounty hunter wouldn't go charging off again. If they really were heading into a trap, she needed Wrex to act as a part of the team, not like a down-sized, krogan Paladin with biotic abilities.

"I wouldn't call it interesting," the turian detective muttered before rising from a chair that had obviously been built with turian comfort in mind, the shared origin of the Normandy benefiting him far more than Wrex. "Deadly is probably the better word for it," as time went on, Shepard really got the impression that the only reason Garrus Vakarian was here was because he had been ordered to. Between that and Alenko's own worries regarding the C-SEC officer, the red-haired marine still failed to make up a clear mind in regards to the turian. On the one hand Therum had proven him to be reliable. On the other hand, she really got the impression that if given the chance, he'd do a lot of things differently than her.

"You said the same thing about the volcano, Blue. Still turned out fine, didn't it?"

"Luck has a tendency to run out eventually," Vakarian offered. "If there's nothing else you want to say to us, Commander, I'd like to prepare my gear now. Feros isn't exactly a fun place to fight through. Especially not for a sniper."

"No. I've got nothing. You're all dismissed. Get ready for the drop," she said and subsequently the rest of the squad got up.

"You've been on Feros before?" Alenko injected shortly after catching up to the turian, walking by her just close enough for her to hear the turian's mumbled reply.

"Chasing pirates for the Hierarchy takes you to weird places, Lieutenant."

Interesting.

As she was about to consider following them asking him about it herself, a bluish figure stepped into the conference room just as Williams left it.

"Commander, if you're going to Feros, you have to allow me to come me along," the asari archeologist insisted, the small medbay bracelet attached to her wrist combined with the knowledge that she had still been unconscious when the meeting had begun clueing Shepard off on the fact that she maybe shouldn't be walking around already, let alone be eavesdropping on their briefings.

"Easy there, Doctor," besides the fact that the reason behind rescuing the asari had been her connection to the Councilor she was looking for, or rather had been looking for until the Blackwatch general had told her that Matriarch Benezia T'Soni was likely under the same influence that had also claimed his brother, the N7 couldn't exactly claim to have faith in the archeologist's ability to stand up for herself in what was likely a geth ambush. Sure, she somehow had survived the onslaught at the Cerberus outpost on Therum but judging by the state she had been in when they had found her, it had been sheer luck and the geth's desire to capture her that had kept her alive, not her own abilities. "I don't think you're in any shape to even leave the medbay yet," she added as she saw Doctor Chakwas enter the room behind her, a both worried and frustrated expression on her face.

"Feros is the biggest known prothean ruin in the galaxy," the asari doctor said as her blue eyes filled with excitement. "I simply have to be there when you explore it."

"It's alright, Doctor Chakwas," Shepard waved with her hand as she saw the human doctor reach for the asari. "I 'll handle this," she added before returning her attention to the asari who despite being some eighty years older than her was currently acting like an overly excited teenager. "Doctor T'Soni, we're not going to explore Ferros," she began. "We're going to make a combat drop into what might be a geth ambush-"

"I can handle myself," she interrupted her.

"And I'm not saying that you can't," she was only thinking it. "But saving you from the geth only to sent you to go and fight them at the next possible occasion is kind of pointless, don't you think?" Expecting to receive another counter, Shepard watched as Liara T'Soni's face lost it's excitement.

"Considering what happened when you touched the artifact on Therum and how the beacon on Eden Prime might've been related to it, having a prothean expert and xenoanthropologist with you when you come in contact with prothean technology on Feros might be for your own safety. That way if something happens to you, you'll have someone with you that's able to revert the effects without taking you out of the battle entirely."

Well damn. Had she just turned Emily's safety argument on her?

Scratch that. How did she know about the beacon?

Wait. Harper. Of course.

How else really?

"Doctor Chakwas?" she asked as she looked at the older human woman who was taken by surprise just as much as her.

"Doctor T'Soni isn't wrong. I'm a physician. Whatever the beacon did to you wasn't a medical issue. You woke up on your own. If something happens to you on Feros, she might be the only one who can really figure out what and help you."

Yes.

She had turned the argument on her.

"Gunnery Sergeant?" she spoke into her omni-tool a moment later, admitting her defeat to reason.

"Ma'am?"

"Can you find a spare hardsuit for Doctor T'Soni?"

After a short moment had passed in which the NCO likely tried to make sense of the request, her reply came through.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, Ma'am" she said. "The marines who went in after us logged a set of armor belonging to her as part of the salvage."

Looking at the asari and watching a smile spread over her freckled face, Shepard was really starting to ask herself what she had just gotten herself into.

* * *

 _Codex: Lystheni (Part of entry series 'Salarian Society')_

 _Viewed as outcasts in their society, Lystheni are an off-shot species of the salarians, having co-evolved, or as some groups like to say devolved, from the ancestors of Sur'Kesh's dominant species at a still undetermined point in the evolutionary history of their species. As the product of a series of genetic anomalies, which cause Lystheni to be stronger and more resilient but, at least when compared to the average salarian, slower and less adapt at learning than their genetic cousins, the now rare sub-species faced wide-spread discrimination right until willingly leaving Council space to put as much distance between them and Sur'Kesh as possible._

 _While poorly studied by the salarians themselves, a cultural stigma and lack of Lystheni test subjects following their self-inflicted exodus of Sur'Kesh, batarian xenoanthropologist that spent considerable time studying the subspecies came to the conclusion that the genetic anomaly responsible for the split of the salarian species might not have been a natural one but instead the product of a failed attempt to turn the comparatively frail salarians into a more resilient, more capable race meant to serve the unknown race that caused the split._

 _Never encountered in Council Space, the number of Lystheni living in the galaxy and more specifically the Terminus System is unknown but, according to the Salarian Union, may range from anywhere between the human and salarian population, covering a range from roughly forty billion to nearly a trillion individuals, making them the most unaccounted for species in the galaxy._

 _Seen as one of the several 'unpleasant' remnants of salarian history before their first contact with the asari, the existence of the Lystheni remained a closely kept secret for centuries, only being revealed to the galaxy when members of the race stumbled upon Council forces fighting the rachni and being believed an entirely species altogether. However thanks to having no interest in aiding their cousins with their struggle for survival, the Lystheni shot down any attempts of contact with Council ever since, only ending up in batarian captivity due to Terminus raiders or being spotted alongside the Quarian Migrant Fleet who's shared fate, namely the lack of a homeworld, has led the otherwise xenophobic Lystheni to come to regard the quarians as the closest thing to an ally they have._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I'm not dead. Surprise!**

 **The reason why it took me this long to update is basically one thing. Work. I just haven't had the time to sit down and write a lot, hence this ridicilously slow pace.**

 **NOthing else really. No apologies, no excuses, no lack of motivation. Just a lack of time.**

 **Yeah.**

 **Let's talk chapter.**

 **This is basically just another setup chapter with one special thingey.**

 **A reminder that the League of One still exists.**

 **I didn't forget about them.**

 **I was however worried that a lot of you did.**

 **Hence, they're still around. Now you know.**

 **Other than that? Not a lot to say actually.**

 **Other than of course, this lack of time isn't over. It's going to stick with me probably until at least January, which is something i'm gonna have to deal with. (Don't know how it's going to affect SV as a whole yet, just know if nothing happens for a couple of months its not because I ditched but because I'm busy.**

 **For the record we're at 494 reviews, 753 favorites and 839 follows.**

 **Hello everyone that's new.**

 **To the rest, as usual..**

 **See you around next time.**


	57. Hic Sunt Dracones

**Chapter 57. Hic Sunt Dracones**

* * *

 **14\. January 2415 AD, Feros**

"We're coming in on our drop site, Commander," the pilot informed them as Shepard switched between looking at the turian shuttle flying to their side and being inexplicably drawn to the impossibly high black towers stretching far into the clouds around them and continuing far higher than anything short of the old space elevators the batarians had managed to construct before their first contact with the rest of the galaxy and the following access to huge masses of cheap Eezo had made them obsolete. "Looks like the signal's still broadcasting. I think I can get us-" in her experience it was never a good thing when the pilot cut off his sentence in its middle. It usually meant that a shuttle was about to be in for a world of trouble.

"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" she asked quickly, ready to brace herself for a sudden stop to their flight.

"Nothing, it's just that," he began as Shepard saw the copilot shrug after tapping on a screen to his right several times, relieved that neither of them seemed to be all to worried. "Whatever is sending the signal is broadcasting on an old frequency. A really old frequency. I don't know how Joker overlooked that, really."

"It might've had something to do with the fact that I'm busy flying something a bit more sophisticated than a Kodiak, Kowalski, " the voice of the Normandy's helmsman quipped in.

Blending out the banter between the two lieutenants, she watched as the large stretches of open terrain, aqueducts Doctor T'Soni had called them, began to become visible below them, forming a net of 'roads' between the individual towers and making the commander hope that their assessment of the situation was correct. Because if it wasn't, and what they were looking for on Feros wasn't somewhere close to the signal, they'd have to either wait for their Mako to be dropped in and risk the Normandy being attacked or cover the open space on foot, exposing themselves to the deadly eye of any geth snipers that may be waiting for them to leave the relative safety of the towers.

Neither option sounded preferable right now.

"Commander?"

"Yes, Williams?"

"I think I know why its a really old frequency," the other marine spoke while the shuttle began to slow down, the weathered hull of a distinctively human ship coming into view on the dusty, grey surface of an enormous landing pad attached to one of the prothean towers. Its size appeared almost tiny compared to the even larger, partially overgrown structure it was attached to and its dirty but still metallic surface clashed with the layers of brownish vines that seemed to grow all over the outside of this particular tower, stretching downwards and upwards for as long as she could see yet avoiding the platform altogether in the process.

"I take it you're seeing what I'm seeing, Commander?" the voice of General Arterius came through her radio.

"Yes, General, I am. And before you asked," she added, thinking back to her previous statement of there being no human presence on Feros that she knew of," I've got no clue how it got here."

"All the more reason to scout it out then," the Blackwatch soldier replied. "Maybe it'll lead us to my brother or help us figure out what he was doing here. It's no coincidence that it started broadcasting right as we entered the system."

If he was even doing something in the first place.

Considering the reason they had come here wasn't exactly what she'd call solid intel, Shepard remained skeptical despite knowing that this was their only option right now. Other than Feros the trail of the rogue Spectre had gone cold for the time being. Given what was at stake, which was just about everything, that was a very, very bad thing.

She sighed, choosing to focus on the mission instead of her own doubts. She was here now either way. What she made of it was up to her.

"Making our final approach, Commander," Lieutenant Kowalski, the Kodiak's pilot, informed her as a green light marked the unlocking of the magnets keeping the door shut and allowed Feros cold and dusty but otherwise breathable air to slowly flood into the crew compartment. Observing as the turian shuttle did the same thing, Shepard was about to undo her harness when a loud bang caused the Kodiak to shake and swirl uncontrollably, a painful blaring echoing through the crew compartment and closing the doors again, drowning out the thought that she had been one button press away from certain death.

"Goddess!" the asari strapped in opposite to her exclaimed as her hands tightened around the handles of her harness. "What was that?" she asked, recovering surprisingly quickly.

"We just got buzzed by a geth gunship, Ma'am" the pilot replied from his own seat, flicking switches left and right and stabilizing the craft again. "But it doesn't look like it's here for us," he added as the screen of the crew compartment switched to showing live footage of one of the Kodiak's outside cameras. Instead of the turian shuttle, it now depicted a silent, blue plasma explosion hitting a level of the prothean skyscraper above them and melting off pieces of the vines before engulfing the sky in a cloud of ash a second later. "Looks like they're trying to bring down the tower," he added just before the gunship was hit by something from inside the tower that Shepard couldn't place. Its effect however was quite easy to recognize, the hit staggering the hornet-like gunship before triggering an equally violent plasma explosion that consumed the purple craft in an instant.

"Also looks like the tower doesn't particularly like them trying that," the turian in her own shuttle observed dryly before turning his head towards T'Soni. "Doctor, is this be some kind of automated defense system?"

"I'm not sure," she replied somewhat uncertainly. "If it is, something has to have changed here on Feros. Pirates have been tearing apart the planet for centuries and it never fought back before. Why start now? Maybe the-"

"No point in speculating about the why of it," the detective shut her down. "Is it a prothean defensive system or not?"

"It's unlikely to be one."

"Thanks. That's all I wanted to hear."

"Can you still bring us down?" Shepard asked the pilot a moment later.

"Already on it," the man replied, again opening the shuttle doors from the cockpit and allowing the Spectre to see that the turian squad had already deployed from their own orange and grey craft, forming up in a square formation and heading towards the presumed safety of what upon closer inspection looked exactly like an old Condor-Class, a type of heavy corvette that hadn't seen service since the beginning of the Fringe Wars and had long since been replaced by a smaller, more nimble variant.

In a less stressful setting she might've mused about the fact that the interest in model ships her father had passed onto her had actually found a tactical application but right now she had to focus on other things, her first priority being to get her team to the ground and the Kodiak out of the air.

"Good," she nodded as the ground closed in on them. "Listen up people. As soon as we touch down we follow Blackwatch into the ship. With the geth strafing the tower, we can't stay out in the open right now," turning to the pilot after undoing her harness, Shepard said one more thing before leaving the shuttle. "The same goes for you, Kowalski. Head back to the Normandy right away. No holding pattern this time. Can't risk losing you or the Kodiak to one of those gunships."

"Understood, Ma'am."

As her feet touched the dark-greyish surface of the landing pad and she waited for the rest of her team to disembark, Emily took a second to adjust to the fact that she was still several thousands meters above ground. The sheer scale of this skyscraper and the dozens of similar ones piercing the clouds below her, some reaching up higher, others having barely been built to this point or ending somewhere below them, was simply something else entirely.

Then again, these were the same people that had built the Citadel so she really shouldn't have been all that surprised at this feat of engineering either.

"Last man," Alenko informed her as the Kodiak flew up behind them, its engines kicking up the thick layer of grey dust that covered up the actual black metal of the tower in the process.

"Move out," she ordered in response, her onyx black N7 armor now spotted with the same kind of dust, giving her a strange, temporary camouflage pattern. "General Arterius, I suggest we enter the ship first. The best point of entrance should be its cargo ramp."

"We're already waiting for you, Commander," the turian responded as Shepard and her squad made their way to the back of the Condor-Class, the scratched serial number and unreadable mess of letters that had made up its name standing out to the commander mostly because it looked like they hadn't been removed by the same kind of dust that had battered the rest of the hull but rather by a 'cleaner', more intentional method.

A pirated vessel maybe?

"So, Shepard, I don't want to be the guy who points out the obvious," the krogan bounty hunter began as they hugged the wall of the corvette and pressed forward along its side."But how exactly do we get this thing to open? I mean it's not a krogan ship," he went on, removing one hand from his shotgun and dragging his armored gauntlet along the hull as if to test its strength, "but it sure looks sturdy. And I don't think whoever left it here, left it open."

"Wrex's got a point, Commander," Williams added. "We didn't exactly bring the gear necessary to break through naval armor and I don't see us overriding its locks anytime soon either."

"If someone used the ship to broadcast a signal, they had to have gotten inside," Shepard countered as they neared the end of the corvette's side, already spotting one of the black and gold armored turians, the Phaeston in his hand being lowered as soon as he saw them as well. "I'm counting on that," she added before subsequently finding her solution to the problem and as a matter of fact the problem itself to be non-existent.

"Or we just use the ramp since they actually did leave it open," Vakarian offered over the squad intercom before folding up the sniper rifle he had brought with him and switching it for a Phaeston of his own, a smart choice considering they'd be entering close quarters now.

"You wouldn't happen to have an idea how the ship looks on the inside, would you, Commander?" the turian general asked from the top of the ramp, looking into the dimly lit cargo bay.

The model ships hadn't exactly been that detailed, at least not on the inside.

"No, but I know who might," she said before trying to reach out to Joker. "Normandy, do you read me?" she asked cautiously while biting her lip below her helmet, knowing that the geth were notorious for setting up jammers and that HSA communications, despite the best efforts of the R and D department and the military-industrial complex, were prone to being jammed quickly simply because besides of a few exceptions used by a very limited number of people they were far less sophisticated than the galactic standard. There was only so much catching up on one could do in thirty something years if they wanted to do it in a way that didn't make them dependent on foreign suppliers, something the HSA's defense ministry had been trying to avoid as much as possible with the exception of a number of joint research projects such as the cross between kinetic barriers and human shields or the Normandy-Class.

"I do, Commander," Joker replied, confirming what she had hoped for, namely that it only made sense that the Normandy would be one such an exception.

"Can you send me the layout of a Condor-Class?"

"Can do," the voice of the pilot came back, "Just give me a moment," he dragged out the last parts of his sentence just long enough for her omni-tool to light up. "There you go."

"Much appreciated," Emily said her thanks before quickly passing the information on to the rest of her squad and the turian team, their respective omni-tools glowing for brief moments as well.

"No point in lingering around then," General Arterius offered as he lifted his rifle and planted a heavy armored boot inside the cargo bay. "My team will take the lower levels, secure the armory and the engine room. Maybe try and turn on the lights while we're at it," continuing upwards without looking at her, his attention focused in front, the turian offered a final suggestion. "I recommend that you head for the command center, Commander, you're bound to be more familiar with it than any of us."

"Understood. We'll head for the bridge," she nodded while following him into the ship, their respective teams behind them. "Let us know if you find anything," she added as the green night vision filter of her HUD began to make up for the darkness of the Condor's cargo bay, allowing her to avoid the supply crates, cables and pieces of what appeared to be scientific equipment stacked around the two trucks parked in the hall's center. When the turian squad split away from her own, heading straight ahead where her team began climbing a flight of stairs, the commander finally came to the realisation how strange it was that someone had made the entire way to the corvette's bridge, which was located on the opposite end of the cargo bay, without turning on the lights or closing the ramp again.

Weird.

Maybe there had only been enough power left to keep one system running?

"Dammit," she heard Wrex grunt as they cleared the stairs and headed for a halfway opened blast door that had certainly seen better days.

"What's the matter?" Alenko asked a moment later.

"I'm stuck on something," the krogan explained as Shepard threw a short glance backwards, seeing him struggle to remove the thin vines tangled around his large feet, a powerful ripping motion finally managing to do the job and allowing him to move on.

Was it just her still being paranoid from the jungle warfare portion of N7 training or did those vines, which seemed to closely resemble the ones on the outside of the tower, only smaller, had grown in a manner strangely similar to that of a tripwire?

Since nothing was happening or blowing up around them, it was probably the former.

Still, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Commander, we just entered the armory," General Arterius muttered through her radio. "It looks like someone wiped it clean. There's not a single gun or bullet left in here. Be careful."

"Understood, General," Emily replied while pressing herself against the wall next to the blast door, her gut telling her that this wasn't the place she wanted to be in right now. As she edged closer to the entrance, she noticed the scratches and small burn marks on the door itself, the green filter of her HUD making it hard to tell just how old they were. Of course she could've turned on her helmets flashlight to check but if she did that, she might as well scream down the corridor that they were coming in and paint a target on her head while she was at it.

After she had risked a quick peak down the corridor behind the damaged blast door, finding it just as empty as the cargobay, the N7 stepped past the door and followed the hall for a few steps before freezing, the glance of a body slumped against another doorframe that hadn't been visible from her last position causing her to stop in her tracks.

"Williams, you're with me. The rest, cover us," she spoke into the squad intercom while keeping her rifle trained on the portion of the body she could see, halfway expecting the figure to jump up and attack her. It certainly would've fit the bill of things that had happened to her since Eden Prime.

When she had reached the skeletal figure, now sure that he dead, her attention shifted from where a portion of his torso armor had been melted away to the hand visible under the unmarked, light armor the human had been wearing. It was still clutching onto an empty SR-6, a weapon even older than the Condor-Class they were standing inside, having both entered service and ceased to be produced a decade before the Fringe Wars and way before first contact above Parnack and as such way before the Condor and its crew should've ever made it to Feros.

Could it be?

No. That just didn't seem plausible.

They had to have been a bunch of pirates who happened to use very outdated equipment, right?

"Just how long has this ship been here?" Williams asked next to her, snapping her out of the suspicion forming in the back of her head.

"I've got no idea, Gunny," she replied sincerely while crouching down. "However long it's been, it looks like this thing ended rather violent," the N7 observed while picking up one of the spent shell-casings stuffed between the body and the wall he was leaning against, the uninterrupted layer of dust that had settled on it visible even through the green filter of her night vision HUD.

"Just raises the question against who," the NCO asked again before looking around and noticing another vine dangling from the ceiling, this one looking quite decayed compared to the other one, "or what," she added quietly.

"Well whatever it was, it's not gonna get-," Emily began while rising to her feet, interrupting her sentence the moment she noticed the small piece of metal dangling from a chain wrapped around the neck of the corpse. Carefully pulling on the chain in a manner that ensured she wouldn't end up with a skull in her hands as well, the commander retrieved the set of dog tags and wiped them clean.

"Alright, this is now officially weird" she muttered absentmindedly as she read the name, date and place of birth, and rank engraved into the metal chip before focusing on the heptagonal sigil making up the background of it all.

So much for her earlier suspicion not being plausible.

"Ma'am?" Williams asked before she handed the dog tags to the marine.

"He's IFSDF," Shepard explained. "Or at least he used to be at one point," despite the evidence, there was still a chance right?

Oh come on.

Who was she kidding.

"The Iffys? But that's impossible," the gunnery sergeant replied while handing back the dog tags. "We didn't even know about Feros before we made First Contact."

"The we here being the HSA," the commander sighed while waving for the rest of her squad to come over . "Guess the IFS did a bit more exploring than we gave them credit for after all," although it was well known that separatist forces had ventured into some uncharted portion of spaces and opened a number of mass relays during the Fringe Wars, the records that had managed to survive past the end of the civil war had suggested that they had only charted a few, unimportant systems in the hopes of finding new mining grounds safe from HSA raiders.

It would seem that that suggestion had been far from true.

She really didn't look forward to breaking that news to one of her HSA superiors.

Rewriting history hadn't been her intention when setting foot on the planet a few minutes ago but with something as simple as pulling on a dog tag she had done just that.

"It's an IFS ship," she said to Lieutenant Alenko as the man led the turian, the asari and the krogan to Williams and her. Throwing another glance at the skeletal remains of the separatist trooper, Emily offered a warning. "Watch your step. No telling what surprises they hid for us."

"The IFS?" the biotic replied stunned. "What were they doing here?"

"Doesn't matter right now," the N7 replied, the focus of her mission returning to her. "Remember, we're here because of Saren and the signal, not because of what killed a bunch of Iffys thirty years ago," switching the channel, she relayed her recent discovery to the turians as well. After all, a mission lived and died on up-to-date intel.

"Understood," the general replied stoically after she told him about the origin of the ship. "We're still trying to get to the engine room and restore power but we ran into a sealed blast door," as she heard what sounded like a biotic blast in the background, the turian quickly went on. "We're improvising an entrance right now."

"Copy that," she answered before stuffing the dog tags into a small pouch attached to her armor and signaling for her team to continue moving forward through the dark corridor, Valkyrie trained ahead. Just because he had been IFSDF didn't mean that whoever the man might've left behind didn't deserve to know what had happened to him. Enemy or not, they were still people.

"Watch your step, Wrex, there's more vines up ahead. Wouldn't want to lose you to hostile vegetation this early into our mission," the C-SEC detective joked as Shepard herself stepped over the mentioned overgrowth.

"Very funny," the krogan replied as his feet crushed the plants underneath them with a wet crunch. "But calling this pathetic shrub hostile vegetation is an insult to half the things growing and killing back on Tuchanka."

"Alright. Fair point," Vakarian said dryly. "Radiation one, old prothean ruin zero, then."

"Technically all prothean ruins emit a small portion of radiation," the asari of her squad chipped in a few seconds later. "However since we're in a human ship right now which probably possesses some kind of shieldi-"

"Hold up. Did you just see that?" the turian cut the archeologist off with a shush before he closed the gap between him and Emily, removing a hand from his rifle to point down the corridor towards another blast door.

"I did not," the N7 replied.

"Something just passed that gap."

"Gunny?"

"I saw nothing , Ma'am," Williams offered from her left.

"Trust me. It was there. I'm sure of it," the insistence in the turian's tone combined with her own gut feeling about this situation certainly managed to convince Shepard.

"General," she spoke into her radio a moment later. "We might not be alone."

"I'm getting that impression down here myself," Arterius replied, another biotic thumping sound suggesting that his team had yet to improvise their entrance. "Something's here, watching our progress, tracking our steps as we make them. I just don't know what," as she heard metal creak and break in the background, the general took a short pause. "We've got our way to the engine room now. Maybe that will help us cast a light into whatever shadow our company is hiding in."

"Did you see what it was?" she asked the turian next to her when the transmission had ended. "If it was armed?"

"I have good eyes but I'm not that good," Vakarian shrugged. "I barely saw it move. No way I can tell you what exactly it was."

"Say you had to roughly describe it," Alenko injected.

"Then I'd call it a human figure."

"Maybe a survivor of the crew?" the lieutenant suggested.

"Or a scavenger," Wrex countered with a grunt. "The last time I was here, the place was crawling with them." He had been here before as well? Interesting, that made two of her crew that had been on Feros already.

"And the last time I was here, we made sure that it wouldn't ever again," Vakarian offered.

"Maybe you and your friends did a poor job, then, Blue."

"There's an easy way of finding that out, isn't there, Commander?" the turian figured her intention correctly.

"Yes. Follow me. Square formation. Doctor, you're in the Center. Wrex, you watch our back."

As their steps echoed through the hallway and past several other bodies who's collected dog tags identified them as more IFS troopers, the team followed Shepard's lead who herself was following the small map on her HUD that was leading her to the corvette's bridge and into the direction of what Vakarian had see. As they moved the N7, despite her own orders, couldn't help but wonder what the IFS had done on Feros and how they had stumbled upon in the first place without making first contact with another civilization? Feros wasn't exactly Council Space but it was irregularly visited by all kinds of people, Council and Terminus alike. The odds of them running into someone weren't exactly low.

Then again maybe they had made first contact, just not with the Council or a known Terminus faction. Although well surveyed, it was basically an accepted fact that in addition to the hundreds of fragmented Terminus nations roaming this part of the galaxy there were likely several other space faring races active within the heart of the Terminus Systems and the fringes of the Attican Traverse that the greater galactic community hadn't made formal contact with. Time and again stories shared by traders and mercenaries, the few people who actually trafficked between the core of Citadel Space and the vast Terminus Systems, gave accounts of at least one race moving about the place and creeping along the fringes of the Attican Traverse, staying away just far enough so the few turian patrols that visited those systems every now and again wouldn't discover them but still approaching isolated colonies every now and again.

"When we reach that room over there, we have to head right. There should be a flight of stairs there," she informed the squad while taking care to step on the parts of the metal floor that weren't covered in vines, which worryingly enough became rarer with every meter they got closer to the bridge. "And keep your eyes open for our guest." Could a bunch of these plants really have killed the crew or was she just being paranoid? Surely the more logical answer was that the plants had simply grown into the ship after someone else, most likely pirates, had killed the IFSDF crew.

Yes, that made a lot more sense than vines winning over trained soldiers with assault rifl-

"Commander, you're gonna want to see this," she heard Alenko say from the back end of the formation, causing her to turn around to see him standing in the faint blue glow of a terminal that seemed to have been activated by the armored gauntlet now resting on its screen.

"Didn't I say to focus on the mission, Lieutenant?" Shepard replied while walking over to him, trusting Williams to take her place and hold the front of the formation. "And not to worry about what happened to these guys?"

"Yes you did," the biotic nodded in the light of the terminal, "but you're still gonna want to see this," he insisted.

"Alright. Show me."

As the officer stepped aside to let her look at the screen, the two words written over the rest of the mission report stood out to Emily almost immediately and made the already insignificant act of insubordination completely forgiven.

Project Primogeniture.

Otherwise known as the Moby Dick of the HSA Navy.

This changed a lot.

Stopping Saren might've been their priority but this right here? This had to come in second place. Project Primogeniture had created the single most dangerous warship in human history. Considering the scale of the fight they'd have on their hands soon enough according to General Arterius, even the hint of a clue as to what the IFS had done to make a battlecruiser capable of taking on a whole fleet was worth investing a few minutes into.

"You're right," she murmured while reading through the otherwise unimportant file that only seemed to describe an uneventful exploration mission of the tower the corvette had landed by. "Save it for later and radio the Normandy, tell them to try and sent in a recovery team once we cleared this place."

"Understood."

"And Alenko?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"This terminal is a gold mine. Good job on not listening to me."

"Thanks, Ma'am"

"Okay. Let's find that bridge."

* * *

 **Meanwhile, Engine Room**

"Any progress?" Desolas asked while turning his back to the vines growing from the air duct above him and looking at Lieutenant Callius and Galviat who were still standing in front of the control panel of the engine and the reactor connected to it.

"No, Sir," the sole biotic and incidentally also the tech specialist of his team replied before nudging Galviat. "Now. Try it again," she said gesturing for a large switch to the left of the taller Blackwatch operative.

Wrapping his hand around the handle and pulling on the switch as instructed, the turian held it down for a second before releasing his grip and watching it slide back up before shrugging. "Still nothing."

"Spirits, I don't get it. This should've worked," Callius sighed in annoyance before bringing up her omni-tool, its activation appearing as a bright, almost white light in the night vision filter of Desolas' helmet. "It's like the entire room isn't even connected to the rest of the ship anymore," she explained while tapping on the hologram."No matter what I do, the system stays completely unresponsive."

"Well have you checked if it is?" Veltax said from his position at the door, his eyes and Phaeston set the way they had come from, covering their backs.

"No I have not," Callius answered before explaining. "Disconnecting the room from the rest of the ship would cause irreparable damage to the power circuits and make it impossible for anything to be broadcasted."

"So you haven't checked," the fourth member of his team summarized before looking backwards. "Galviat, think you can pry that wall behind the console and take a look inside? See if the thing's still connected?"

"Looks doable," the other turian replied before reaching for the curved dagger every member of his legion carried on them and placing its tip on the edge of the wall, ready to open up the panel.

"Did the two of you listen to what I just said?" the biotic lieutenant injected.

"General?" Veltax said, clearly demanding his final say in the matter.

"Would a complete disconnect explain why nothing we do seems to trigger any response from the ship?" Desolas asked.

"Obviously it would," Callius replied a moment later. "But setting that aside, there's just no logical reason to think anyone would go through the trouble of disconnecting both the reactor and the engine room from the rest of the ship and then repair the kind of damage that would do just to hide it from someone."

"Except for the exact situation we're in right now," Veltax added from the door, his sight once more set to where they had come from. "Lure us in with a message, turn off the power to make it harder for us and finally, strike with that advantage on their side."

"Come on, Ma'am, we've been in stranger ones than this," Galviat finally shrugged from the biotics left side, his blade still barely touching the wall cover. Although all of them knew that it was ultimately his decision and none would carry any hard feelings over him overruling either of them, Desolas still decided that he wanted Callius to make this call.

"Lieutenant?" he said as he looked at the leader of his honor guard.

"Do it," she answered a moment later, causing Galviat to instantly jab the knife into the frame of the wall, the much stronger material the blade was made of effortlessly penetrating the thin cover and allowing him to pry it open with little force.

"Alright you stubborn piece of metal," he said while placing the knife back in its sheath and preparing himself to pull off the cover, his hands resting the gap he had created. "Let's see what all the trouble is about." With a quick , almost effortless pull the cover started to move and flew into the back of the room not a moment later, clittering upon impact. "Well that was easier than expected," Galviat said while rubbing his hands together before both as and Callius took a look into the wall behind the console

"Oh crap," Callius cursed, their combined frames covering up their discovery.

"And? Was I right or what?" Veltax inquired at the seeming realisation.

"What is this? How did these things get in here?" the lieutenant asked the turian next to her, prompting Desolas to make a step forward to try and see what the confusion was all about.

"Beats me. But if all the other cables are overgrown like this, it's no wonder nothing around here works."

"It's not just overgrown, Sergeant. The cables," she muttered while reaching inside,"they've all been completely replaced by these vin-"

Before the turian could finish his sentence, Desolas picked up the echo of a lone shotgun shot from somewhere above them, the powerful force behind it carrying it all the way down to them. But before he could act on that, something else occupied his mind, trained reflexes kicking in as something tried pulling him from his feet mid-step. Getting in the way of its plan to sent him falling to the ground with his back exposed, the general spun around and landed on said back instead, his Phaeston at the ready and his finger pressed against the trigger, just one small squeeze away from firing. However instead of finding a target he and his honor guard, who all had reacted in a similar fashion, found nothing but empty air and a vine that had made its way from the air duct all the way to his leg while his back had been turned.

Pulling his own blade from its sheath and quickly cutting it off before giving it a chance to show what else it might be capable off, Desolas noted the short resistance it gave his knife and made his final assessment of the situation as the shots above them flared up to life again, this time not ending after one.

"Head for the bridge and watch the vines. They're what's been watching us."

* * *

 **Five Minutes Earlier, Bridge**

"It's really a miracle anyone even managed to start this thing," Alenko wondered as he removed more of the vines covering the single running terminal in the otherwise dark bridge with his bayonet, cutting them off and tossing them to the ground where a small heap of them had already collected. "With all that overgrowth you'd think it would've stopped working decades ago."

"Never mind the overgrowth, it's an even bigger miracle the bridge isn't shot to hell and back. Those Iffys put up one hell of a fight," the gunnery sergeant of her squad observed while following Shepard's orders of collecting the dog tags of the skeletal remains of the IFS crew spread around the bridge. "Not a single bullet left in any of these guns," she added while checking the empty chamber of one of the SIS-7 pistols lying at the feet of what appeared to be the corvette's commander, the dark red color of his uniform having paled over the years but still identifying him as an officer. "They went down shooting but somehow managed not to hit any of the important parts."

"To be fair, if what they were shooting came in the same way we did, they'd have to be terrible marksman to hit the consoles behind them," Vakarian offered while walking around the bridge, likely to get his own impression of the scene. "Still doesn't explain why nothing's missing though."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"While killing for the sake of killing isn't exactly rare in this part of the galaxy," his voice flanged as he marched past a row of disabled terminals only to pick up a discarded and beaten shotgun, failing to cock it due to a decade old jam blocking the mechanism and repeating the motion after smoothly fixing the problem, displaying a surprisingly high level of mastery of human weapons in the process, "you'd think the guys who went through this kind of resistance would've at least taken something with them."

"You're right," the N7 replied while looking around the overgrown but otherwise untouched bridge. "You don't fight like this just to leave everything behind."

"Didn't the general say that the armory was completely empty?" Doctor T'Soni threw in.

"Human weapons aren't exactly worth stealing, especially not this kind," the turian countered as Shepard watched him move through the room, gently placing the weapon on what used to be the corvette's holotable, the cracked glass of its projection surface indicating a lack of function. "No offense."

"None taken," she frowned behind her helmet. She got it. Compared to the galactic standard all but the latest generation of human weapons were sub-par. Luckily the times of an entire squad emptying their SR-7s into a krogan mercenary only for the krogan to shrug all of the bullets off and take down half of them down before being killed by an anti-material rifle were over. "Any progress on that signal, Lieutenant?" the N7 finally asked, turning back to the biotic human just as he pulled another vine off the console.

"Almost cleared the console, I just need to," he groaned while pulling on the single largest vine resting on top of the console and obstructing a good portion of it, "get rid of this one," finally managing to remove the large plant with a surge of purple energy, Alenko tossed the roughly arm-sized plant to the ground. "There, all done," he finished not a second before the console shut off, once more returning the bridge to complete darkness and causing him to look at it in disbelieve. "What the-" Alenko muttered in confusion as he leaned over the disabled terminal, "Commander, I realise this is going to sound strange but I think the vine was what kept broadcasting the signal."

"Come again?" she asked as she headed towards Alenko.

"You saw it shut off as soon as I separated it, no? That can't be a coincidence."

"It's just a plant, Lieutenant," Williams injected. "Plants don't trigger broadcasting signals."

"If they don't, how come removing the vine ended the signal?"

"Damned if I kno-"

As a shotgun blast drowned out the rest of the gunnery sergeant's sentence, Shepard spun on her heel to find Wrex facing the door, a humanoid shape lying at his feet. Lowering her rifle only when she realised that there were no further enemies in sight.

"Thing tried sneaking up on me," the bounty hunter explained as he brought his heavy foot on the figures head, the ease with which he crushed its skull and the lack of blood or gore produced by the gesture instantly putting the N7 off. "Didn't work," he added with a chuckle before crouching down to inspect his kill and mumbling in confusion. "Now what in the void are you?"

"Is it just me or do its intestines look just like the vines?" the asari of her group observed as she stepped up next to the krogan, surprisingly unbothered by the display of violence.

"Come on. Humanoid, walking plants? Now that's just ridiculous," the turian detective replied as he too joined the three off them. "What's next, a flying hanar-" whatever witty comment it was that Vakarian had held on his tongue ended when another figure jumped from the shadow of the blast door. Quite literally vomiting what her night vision portrayed as a green slime from its mouth, it instantly began melting through the turian's assault rifle, which he had used to block its jaw from tearing into him, for as long as Wrex allowed it to stay on top of the detective. As the krogan pulled the creature off the turian and fired off another shotgun blast that sent it flying back at least two meters, the commander was really glad to have brought Wrex along.

"Spirits," Vakarian cursed as he suddenly tossed the destroyed rifle away, watching the evidently acid-like substance melt all the way towards the tungsten block responsible for producing the weapon's ammunition and reaching for his sniper rifle as a back-up right as choir of deep, guttural growls encroached from the corridor Emily and her team had come from, quick footsteps accompanying them.

"Heh. Here they come," Wrex said after pulling the C-SEC officer on his feet and leveling his shotgun at the door right as Shepard and her marines did the same.

* * *

 **Present Time**

"Commander, do you read me?" the general finally spoke into his radio after kicking the body of the last of the eyeless, plant-creatures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to attack the Blackwatch team on their way to the bridge, the damaged air ducts, previously closed but now opened doors and holes in the floor covers offering an explanation as to where they had been hiding all this time.

"Yes, I do," the somewhat breathless voice of the human soldier came back to him, a last Carnifex shot echoing in the background of her transmission. "Can I assume that's you walking down the corridor?" she added as Desolas saw the figure flashing a light at them through a half-way opened blast door up ahead.

"Yes," he replied before triggering the lights installed into his helmet to confirm his identity. "I take it you've got no idea what these things are either?"

Taking in their appearance in the new light, their uncanny resemblance to the indoctrinated monsters the Harbinger and as of lately the geth as well seemed to create sent a sickening feeling down his stomach. If it wasn't for the lack of the cybernetic implants all of the husks had displayed, Desolas wouldn't have blamed anyone for drawing a comparison. Between their twisted faces, their claw-like hands, the quick and forceful nature of their attacks and their complete lack of a self-preservation instinct, there wasn't really that much difference between the two of them.

Except of course the acidic vomit that had managed to peel off the traditional golden highlights of his reinforced armor's torso and would've likely caused far more damage to the standard-issue hardsuit worn by the rank-and-file of the Hierarchy's army.

"No," the commander replied through the radio. "But we know that the vines were what was causing the signal."

"That would also explain what we found in the engine room," he remembered their earlier discovery

"How so?"

"The internal wiring was running on those plants, not the actual cables of the ship," Desolas explained quickly. "This vessel was meant to be both bait and trap at the same time," he summarized, trying to decide how likely it was that this plant and the Harbinger were connected to each other and whether or not the message that had lured them here was related to the ship and the trap was well.

"So where do we go from here?" the commander replied while the lights on her helmet turned off again and the heavy footsteps of the krogan bounty hunter accompanying her team began heading towards the honor guard. "The signal was our only clue, without it we'll have to start searching all over Feros and still have no guarantee of actually finding out what Saren was doing here."

"I suggest we move on to the next best thing," the general argued as the mixed team of humans, a turian, an asari and a krogan reached them. "If we find out why the geth are here, we might also find out what my brother was doing here and why he sent us that message."

"Understood," the commander nodded.

"Good. Get ready to move. We shouldn't linger around here much longer, every minute we stay here is a minute whatever spawned these monsters has to sent more of them our way," Desolas reasoned while throwing a final look at the husk-like creature at his feet, holding back the uneasiness it made him feel.

"Back to the landing platform then?" Lieutenant Callius threw in.

"Yes, back to the landing platform," he confirmed.

* * *

 **Five Minutes Later, Outside of the Corvette**

As her eyes adjusted to the daylight of Feros, Shepard looked at her team.

Considering with what little intelligence they had embarked on, they were doing an admirable job of not questioning the point of what they were still doing here. Then again, all of them knew the stakes.

Not that that diminished the respect she was starting to have for all of them.

"Wait. That wasn't here before, was it?" she heard the asari wonder, turning her head to where she was standing in her costum set of armor which Shepard assumed had been bought for her by her mother who probably knew the kind of places her daughter would go to in order to follow her passion and wanted to get ahead of the dangers they brought with them.

"What? The overgrowth?" Wrex replied with a grunt. "Of course that was here before. Did you sleep on our approach or something like that? It's was covering the whole tower. Probably has been for millennia."

"No, not the overgrowth," the archeologist insisted before rushing off the loading ramp of the Condor and pointing at a small hole in the layers of vines that almost perfectly aligned with the door behind it. "This!" she exclaimed before turning back to Shepard. "Commander, I'm sure it wasn't here. This can't be a coincidence."

"I think she's right, Ma'am. It kept the broadcast online. So what's to say it can't show us doors?" Alenko muttered behind her.

"Get back here, Doctor T'Soni!" Shepard called." It tried to kill us, Alenko. I don't think following its doors is such a good idea."

As the asari archeologist came back their way, Shepard and everyone else present on the loading ramp suddenly brought up their guns, the figure emerging from the dark behind T'Soni startling all of them. After she got over the initial shock of thinking they were going to shoot her, the doctor too turned around to see the other, green asari that had emerged from the door, slowly walking backwards, focused entirely on the other member of her species.

"Stop! Who are you?" General Arterius called through the speakers of his helmet, his voice amplified strong enough to be audible even over the loud wind rushing past them, a fact that didn't seem to bother the green asari in the slightest despite not wearing a hardsuit herself.

"One who serves," the asari shouted as she froze in place,"I came to explain, to make you understand the message of the Old Growth!"

"The what?" Williams wondered next to Shepard right as Doctor T'Soni walked up the ramp again, her blue face a shade paler than before.

"It did not mean for its thralls to attack. Their instincts led them to lash out while it was distracted with fighting the cold ones. Their attack was not meant as a hostile gesture of our master."

What the hell was that asari talking about?

"Everything alright, Doctor?" Vakarian asked while pulling the asari out of their line of fire.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she mumbled. "It's just-"

"Just what?"

"Asari aren't supposed to be green," she replied perplexed and visibly shaken before Shepard made the connection. It would've been like looking at a red human. That would set off every alarm bell, telling her that the thing standing in front of her might look human but sure as hell wasn't.

"General, what do we do?" the taller of the two other male Blackwatch operatives asked calmly after overhearing what the doctor had said.

"What's the Old Growth?" Arterius called, his rifle still aimed squarely at the 'asari'.

"The Thorian!" she exclaimed, sounding almost excited. "All who wander the builders' towers stand within and before him. And all who do so, bask in his wisdom."

Builders? Did she mean the protheans?

"Sure sounds like a humble guy, doesn't he?"

"Not worse than some of your colleagues, Blue."

"You mentioned a message," the turian general continued. "What does the Thorian want you to tell us?"

"That Old Growth will grant you what you seek if you aid him in the battle against the cold ones your kin brought upon him."

"Our kin?" the general repeated.

"No. Your kin," the 'asari' corrected with a point of her finger. "A thousand feelers have recognized the familiarity of the air you push. You are like the one who came before. Strong, fierce, determined. Yet still free of their taint. Their shadow has not claimed you nor will it. You may right his wrong and be rewarded for it. Return that what he and his cold ones have taken from the Old Growth and name your desire. The Thorian will fulfill it."

"I don't like it, Sir," Lieutenant Callius muttered. "It tried to kill us. We'd be idiots to believe it now."

Despite her better judgment, Emily gave in to the urge to disagree.

"General, if that thing knows something about your brother, we have to take the risk," turning her head towards the turian lieutenant, the N7 began to reason with the biotic's own logic. In her experience, that went a long way in convincing people. "It's like you said, Lieutenant, Feros is the only lead we have on Saren. We have to follow it through, no matter how dangerous it gets."

"How do you know what we seek?" Arterius inquired.

"Just like you're familiar to his flesh and his spirit," the 'asari' spoke before her pointing finger shifted towards Emily herself, putting an uneasy feeling in her gut that only her training and experience as an N7 kept from getting the better of her. "This one is familiar to his mind. Like him, the builders' secrets have passed on to her. And like him, the Old Growth holds the key that will unlock them."

"Goddess, she's talking about the beacon," T'Soni observed, snapping out of her perplexity at that realisation, her focus on anything prothean seemingly overwriting whatever nerves had gotten the best of her. "We have to follow her, General Arterius. Even fifty thousand years after their death the protheans wanted someone to know what they tried to pass on to the commander on Eden Prime," she explained, only barely stopping herself from shaking Emily, pulling back once she realised that there was still a gun in her hands. "If there is a way to decipher that message, she might prove crucial to keeping history from repeating itself and to stopping Saren and the Harbinger."

She didn't particular like how that made her sound more like a strategic asset than a person. But what she wanted had to take a step back now that the whole galaxy was at risk. Besides, in a way she had become a strategic asset when she had decided to enlist.

"How do we know the Thorian will uphold its end of the deal when we're done with helping it?" General Arterius finally asked, lowering his weapon just in the slightest.

"The Old Growth is above such petty things as betrayal. If you redeem that what your kin has wronged, the Thorian will give you your Cipher."

"Doctor, what are the chances that this thing really has a way to unlock the message of the beacon?" the turian general muttered into the squad intercom.

"Feros is the biggest known prothean ruin in the entire galaxy and this Thorian seems to be an integral part of a good part of it. If there is a way to decipher the beacon's message, it's possible that it managed to find it."

"I see," he replied "Commander?"

"What is it?"

"It's you who'll have to take the biggest risk. What do you think?"

"It's like Lieutenant Callius said, Feros is our only shot," she repeated, staying true to the turian's and by extension her own words. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"Understood," he nodded a single time, not feeling that it was necessary to get further confirmation of her commitment. "Lead us to your master!" he called, the last part of his order carrying a strong hint of distaste.

As if hit by lighting, the asari sprung into action. She turned on her heel and headed back into the door, only calling out for them to follow her as she went through the opening.

"Move out," the Blackwatch general instructed after that.

"Heh. And here I was thinking we were idiots for walking into a geth ambush," Wrex grunted before she gestured for them to follow the Blackwatch operatives as well, heading into the unknown that would await them inside of the prothean tower that seemed to sent a tingle down her spine the closer she got to it. "Not that I am one to mind a good fight," the krogan added a moment later before stomping down the ramp alongside the rest of them.

* * *

 _Codex: Terminus Systems_

 _The Terminus Systems are a region of space located on the far side of the Attican Traverse, bordering on a large chunk of the unclaimed portions of the Attican Traverse and a small number of human colonies and independent worlds under HSA protection. Populated by hundreds of independent nations formed by people unwilling to acknowledge the political authority of the Citadel Council or adhere to Council law, the Terminus Systems are at times described as both the most free and most dangerous place in the galaxy. Ravaged by the wars of rogue governments, plagued by pirates, criminals, mercenaries and slaver rings and influenced by the Batarian Hegemony, the Terminus Systems have been locked in a state of constant instability ever since the Rachni Wars ended the Council's ambition to expand into the vast region._

 _Although lacking a formal capital, the Omega station (see Entry 'Omega') acts as a trade capital and at times diplomatic meeting ground for the warring nations of the Terminus and has in the past been used as a de facto capital by the number of warlords or powerful governments that have managed to unite a large chunk of the region under their authority before inevitably being toppled by a coalition of rag-tag groups fighting against any sort of central Terminus administration, a hypothetical governmental body that could very well rival or surpass the power of the Citadel Council._

 _Even though the chaos of the Terminus and the spontaneous raids from groups within its borders have long since become an accepted part of everyday life for the denizens of the galaxy, it should be noted that there have been three proposed and two actual military interventions with the aim of bringing order into the region and finally ending the threat it posed, the first one having occured shortly before the Krogan Rebellions, three consecutive ones having been planned by the Turian Hierarchy and one having resulted in the Human-Mercenary Intervention of 2387 (see Entry Human-Mercenary Intervention) the effects of the latter still being felt to this day. Having upset the semblance of balance that had existed in the Terminus up to that point, the HSA's short but impactful war with the region has led to a series of events that, according to a number of Council experts, are pointing towards an unprecedented and incredibly worrying development in the history of the region that had discouraged the Council from approving the proposed turian intervention in the past._

 _A foe against which the warring nations of the Terminus may unite against._

 _Seen as a volatile mixture only waiting to explode, it is likely only the might of the Council that stands behind the HSA, the surprisingly one-sided victory of the humans in their first conflict with the region and their Council-assisted victory in the Skyllian Blitz (see Entry 'Skyllian Blitz') that prevents dozens of angered Terminus nations from invading human territories again._

 _It should be mentioned that due to its vast size and potentially hundreds of opened but unexplored relay systems, it is generally assumed that a number of minor space faring races are active within the Terminus Systems, the most recent discovery of the Raloi and their homeworld only reinforcing this notion._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Well, hello there.**

 **Been a while.**

 **At this point I think you know the reasons why.**

 **Well most of them.**

 **A bit of my time wasn't just spent working, it was also spent writing and developing on that spin-off series I mentioned working on.. which now holds the creative title of "Semper Vigilo: Anothlogies" (i know, super creative) !**

 **The release of that is still a long way down the road though since its obviously going to take place all over the course of this story and hence contain a shitton of spoilers... so yeah. Be patient (At this point I'm PLANNING (so nothing set in stone) for one story that is mostly spoiler free to be released somewhere around christmas.)**

 **Alright. chapter.**

 **So. Feros and the promised original plot begins. As you can tell, it's already way different.**

 **What else is going to change?**

 **Well stick around and find out whenever I find the bloody time to write 58. (It's crazy that it's already been FORTY days since I last updated but well, that's my life right now. Can't help it. Might get better later this year/at the end of january.**

 **In all seriousness though, I do hope I can make Feros return to the real originality the earlier plots had because frankly, sticking to the general parts of Mass Effect's (awesome) story has been kind of restrictive. (before you say it, Mass Effect Two (season four) and Three (season five), with the exception of a few key points, are going to diverge a lot more than Season 3 is already doing because that's more fun for me and probably also for you.)**

 **Additionaly, I wonder how many of you could guess what would be up with the corvette based only on the title.**

 **Additionaly... yes... I went there, I, the absolute madlad, YET AGAIN connected another storyline to the main story! As I think I've said before, in the end (as in Mass Effect 3), everything's going to lead to one unified plot with the pieces slowly connecting to each other as we go on. So now the IFS plot (and something else not yet revealed) have touched with Shepards!**

 **REJOICE! (do it.)**

 **As for the new folks who bothered reading this.**

 **Hi.**

 **This is how these A/N usually go.**

 **I am weird like that.**

 **For the record, we're at 502 reviews (another landmark cracked) 775 favorites and 864 follows and as of right now have made it onto Page 2 of all-time most followed mass effect story, a point I didn't think we'd ever hit when I started writing Semper Vigilo... nearly two years (22 months and 1 day) ago. Yes. It's been that long. Time really does fly, doesn't it?**

 **Here's to another 22 months and 1 day.**

 **See you around next time.**


	58. Leap of Faith

**Chapter 58. Leap of Faith**

* * *

 **14\. January 2415 AD, Feros**

"What do you think will happen first? This thing getting to where it wants to go or the geth bringing down the whole tower?" one of the two Blackwatch operatives flanking General Arterius and Lieutenant Callius wondered while simultaneously jabbing what looked like a standard-issue stimpack into a slot on his leg armor and discarding the empty package onto black ground below their feet mid-run, ignoring the shaking of yet another explosion chipping away at the vine-covered exterior of the prothean skyscraper. As another muffled plasma detonation chipped against the towers exterior somewhere below them, the turian went on. "I'm thinking it'll be the tower going down."

"Please don't tempt fate, Galviat," the other turian soldier replied. "I'd rather not be buried alive alongside you. Again." Although she couldn't claim to understand what it was that they were talking about, their brief conversation gave Shepard something else to focus on than the strange feeling she had been getting in the back of her mind ever since they had entered the tower almost ten minutes ago. Between the sense of deja-vu that seemed to hit her randomly every other minute or so and the weird tension that was building up all over her body, she was glad for the little banter.

"It is highly unlikely," the asari archeologist, who seemed to have already all but recovered from her inital shock at having encountered the asari-like alien they were following, began to say between her somewhat ragged breaths, "that the geth will be able," she continued before pulling in more air, the strain of what was little more than an easy jog for the trained soldiers accompanying her getting to her, "to compromize the tower's structural integrity in any meaningful way," she finished quickly before trying to catch her breath again all the while doing her best to keep up with the pace of her companions.

"Great. So the plants will get us after all," the turian soldier complained but continued to follow the 'asari' nonetheless.

For another minute or two the Normandy's team and their turian allies kept moving through the tower, the number of destroyed geth platforms and 'dead' creatures similar to those they had fought in the Condor corvette still resting on one of the tower's landing platforms increasing surprisingly quickly once they had reached what Doctor T'Soni had described as the tower's 'most interior layer', the part of the structure that had been meant to supply the arcology built around with everything from power to water and basic goods to luxuries.

"Oh, spirits," Lieutenant Callius cursed before stopping just as the group passed a geth construct with an eerily purple taint to its design. Deciding not to think too hard about how it reminded her of the large spikes she had seen used on Eden Prime if they had been turned upside-down or what the meaning of the tubes drilled into one of the large vines running all over the walls of this section of the tower was, Shepard was ready to move on right until Arterius and the 'asari' stopped as well. "Is this what I think it is, General?" the turian biotic muttered.

"Another kind of artifact? You have to be kidding me," the fourth turian soldier, who seemed to be very intend of keeping his distance, replied.

"It definitely shares a resemblance, Lieutenant," General Arterius said as he observed the tubes and pale blue plant matter around them for a few moments before turning to the asari and then back to Emily and the rest of the squad, muting the speakers of his armor which he had been using to communicate with the 'asari' in the process. "I think that Old Growth of hers might already be beyond saving. Depending on what we find, we might have to blow this entire place up to ensure its destruction."

"You want to destroy the entire tower because of this?" the asari archeologist replied. To her that probably sounded like a terrible overreaction. Especially considering they were standing inside of a prothean tower.

"No. I'd like to destroy the entire block. But we don't have the fire power to do it. So I'll settle for the tower."

Although the asari was visibly shocked by it, Emily could see the logic behind such a strategy.

They had no idea how big this Thorian was and how many more devices like this were spread around their immediate vicinity. Although the HSA hadn't put much faith in indiscriminate orbital bombardment ever since the Fringe Wars and the Siege of Horizon, a radical step may become necessary unless they wanted to leave behind a minefield of these artifacts. A scenario that despite the repercussions of blowing up a chunk of Feros would have still seemed preferable.

"Don't you thi-"

"We can't waste anymore time on the constructs of the cold ones. The Old Growth is in terrible danger!" the Thorian's creation suddenly roared, prompting the Blackwatch leader to unmute his speakers again.

"We know. But we will only move on when this thing is gone. No discussion," he barked with a sense and tone of authority that few officers managed to hit without sounding full of themselves. Judging by the lack of a hostile reaction, it worked. "Veltax, get rid of this thing for me," he then ordered, causing the forth turian soldier to pull three grey metal cylinders from a large pouch embedded in the chest-piece of his black armour.

"Hold on. Don't you think that's a bit of overkill?" Vakarian injected after standing behind the Blackwatch operative and watching him get to work, most likely familiar with the power of the explosives.

"Trust me, Palavani, with these things you want overkill," Veltax replied while kneeling down and stuffing the charges into a small opening of the device's armor, taking incredible care not to touch it. "Done, Sir. Since I can't be sure that the tower won't start messing with a remote trigger as we move up, I a timer for five minutes," he added far too caImly considering he was standing right next to what would soon be a very large explosion. "So," he shrugged, dragging out the word far beyond its normal length. "I suggest we get moving again now."

"Understood," the general nodded before turning back to the green 'asari'. "Now we go," he instructed as if she was just another subordinate and to Emily's surprise, the figure simply complied in silence and returned the task of leading them to their destination.

As they continued their jog after the increasingly faster going alien, Shepard began to pick up on the by now familiar sound of geth weapons being fired off in the distance, the echoes of what sounded like enough sustained fire to cover an entire city block finding their way to them through the labyrinth of black, vine-covered corridors. Figuring that whatever it was that was fighting them would at least keep the synthetics occupied long enough for her team and their allies to slip by, the N7 for dismissed it as a secondary concern for now and kept her focus on their guide. Despite having been in favour of following her, she didn't trust her.

"Whatever it is that they're shooting," Wrex mumbled as they passed a broken piece of prothean tech that sent a tingle down Emily's spine not quite unlike the one she had felt after waking up in the wake of her encounter with the beacon on Eden Prime. "It sure seems to be hard to kill."

"Don't sound so disappointed. The more they shoot at it, the less they shoot at us," the turian detective offered in return as Shepard did her best to dismiss the unexplainable pull she felt towards the unfinished skeleton of what looked like it had been intended to become another prothean beacon, only managing to do so after a far too long moment of zoning out and a brief series of jumbled images that could've been anything from a part of the beacon's vision to her own vivid imagination.

What was wrong with her? This wasn't the place to lose focus. She had to concentrate on the mission, nothing more, nothing less. Telling herself to get a grip, Emily continued her jog, only realising that the unfinished beacon was already out of sight when she noticed that brown vines had now replaced the black metallic walls from earlier and the partially melted remains of a somewhat larger, yellow geth drone.

Since she had just had one hell of a black-out, the N7 drew a short consequence out of the experience.

She'd have to get that looked into once she got back to the Normandy and Doctor Chakwas.

"I'd watch the fuel tank on that one, Shepard," Wrex offered as he passed it behind her, probably not liking how unconcerned she had stepped past it. "If the acid melts the right bits, that pyro's a ticking bo-" when the muffled sound of the turian demolition charges exploding below them cut off his sentence, the bounty hunter let out a frustrated growl. "A ticking bomb," he finished.

"Tangled with the geth before, Wrex?" Alenko asked, probably trying to confirm whether or not the krogan was one of the few people who had fought against the geth ever since their war with their creators had turned the quarians into a race of refugees and galactic pariahs and survived to tell the story.

"I've lived nine hundred years and I was a mercenary for most of that time," the krogan explained. "Of course I fought the geth before."

"Hold up. You're really nine hundred years old?" a flanging voice injected.

"I am. Surprised, Blue?"

"Well, yes. I always figured C-SEC messed up your birthday," the turian detective admitted. "No offense but someone with your life style usually doesn't make it past three hundred. Or hundred at all."

The krogan only laughed at that as he followed Shepard and company through a field of geth drones and Thorian creatures which by the look of it had torn into each other in a very brutal fight. "Turns out I'm also hard to kill," he finally said as he passed a large red platform covered in brown, twisted bodies and half-way dried, green acid that had almost entire melted a weapon as big as the N7 herself.

If there ever had been an appropriate time to tell someone not to 'jinx it', it would've been now. But before Shepard could offer her own contribution to the banter between the two, she very suddenly stopped dead in her tracks to avoid running into the turian lieutenant who had done the same thing at the next bend of the web of corridors they had been following.

"Damn," she heard Williams mutter while looking at the large, brownish creature that was suspended over a very steep drop and thrashing like someone had set it on fire, the vines and tendrils hanging from it lashing into the air around it and creating a hauntinly alien sound.

"That thing is the Thorian?" General Arterius asked as he looked at the positively awestruck 'asari' that had frozen in place the moment they had reached their destination.

"Beold! The untained kin has arrived to best the cold ones!" the green figure exclaimed in return, ignoring the debris that a plasma detonation had just sent falling down from a higher level, only barely missing them and the Thorian alike and pointing to a larger version of the device they had just blown up that seemed to be embedded in the 'back' of the creature. "When he removes their shakles, the key shall be his!"

"Sir, I think it's already too late," Lieutenant Callius noted quietly over the squad intercom muted to the outside world, before placing a small marker over the pale blue flesh that was spreading out from the device and had already managed to cover a huge chunk of the Thorian that was now starting to calm down despite of the bluish lights that were running underneath a good two-thirds of its skin.

"I know," he replied. "But it doesn't have to," he added quickly while shouldering his Phaeston and aiming the scope at the machine. When he was done with his inspection, the general pressed the button that folded the weapon into a smaller box and stored it on the magnetic lock on his back "How do we know you won't turn on us once we free your master?"

"You oppose the cold ones that sought to slave the Thorian to their Harbinger," the figure replied as Shepard noticed the plant visibly move with every word, confirming her growing suspicion that this wasn't an individual being with an own free will that happened to be loyal to the creature but rather a mouth-piece created solely for the purpose of communication. "With the key in your hands," it went on while pointing at Emily herself, something she wasn't ready to call a good thing at this point,"you will carry the Old Growth's wrath beyond this world," it certainly seemed to have faith in that statement. "You will punish them for their insolent actions. You will take from them what they tried to take from the Old Growth. You will stop the shadow following their every step."

"Think we can trust it to keep its word, Sir?" Galviat wondered over the squad intercom.

"Only one way of finding that out," the general replied. "Lieutenant Callius, I need a boost, " he added with a nod that caused the junior officer to also fold up her Phaeston, a purple glow engulfing her hands. As Shepard watched him take a couple of steps back, the realisation of what he was going to do dawned on her right as his left foot pushed his armored figure over the long gap between the floor they were standing on and one of the large vines leading to the central 'body' of the Thorian. Not even having enough time to think about what would happen if he wouldn't have made the jump or being horrified by the possibility of the vine not supporting his weight, the commander shook some clarity into her head as her turian ally began climbing towards the geth machine at a brisk pace.

"Should he really be the one doing that?" Williams wondered out loud as the mixed squad watched their de-facto leader navigate across the vines with a grace at least Emily hadn't expected of a turian who at the very least had to be well into his fifties, or even his sixties considering the rank he held.

"Blackwatch started out as a mountaineer legion," Garrus Vakarian replied when it became evident that the other Blackwatch soldiers wouldn't offer an explanation. "There's not a part of their training that doesn't include some kind of climbing."

"How come you know about our training, Palavani?" the demolition's specialist of the all-turian united muttered as Shepard herself came to realise that they probably should focus less on the general and more on the upper levels from where he could potentially be shot at, something even his honorguard seemed to forget until they watched her do it.

"Call it family relations," the C-SEC officer said with a shrug before returning to silence right as Arterius reached the device on the Thorian's back and began prying and pulling on the tubes of the device when the N7 spotted a small white reflection on a level above them. Without thinking and only taking a second or two to undo her safety, she found her aim on what appeared to be the top of the head of a geth about to expose itself to her Valkyrie rifle and pressed her finger against the trigger right until she was just a squeeze away from firing of a shot.

Then, as the first cable was pulled and the Thorian began thrashing again, almost throwing off the turian trying to liberate it, the geth made its move and exposed enough of its head to give her a clean shot. Four short taps later, way before it had risen to its full height and aimed its rifle, a burst of blue static signified the failure of its shield and an explosion of white cooling fluid marked its destruction.

"Alright people," she frowned as she began hearing both the roaring of the creatures from earlier and the metallic noises of geth moving about the place in the wake of her four shots. "Here they come." Watching as a purple shape was tackled from an even higher level, tumbling down the reactor shaft with a clawing brown monster still clinging to its frame, Emily started counting on the pragmatic hope that the Thorian would exhaust his forces just as much as he would exhaust the geth. Because judging by the wailing, clicking and gunfire now rising like an orchestra around them, there were dozens of potential enemies for every one of her allies, including the asari doctor who she at this point wasn't ready to call a combatant and the turian general who had already clawed his way back to the device embedded in the Thorian.

However despite the numbers involved in the fight around them, Shepard soon began to realise that the Thorian's plant monsters were either very incapable of fighting the geth or very much irrelevant to the synthetics. As the squad began trading fire with synthetic soldiers lining the levels above them and also streaming towards them from somewhere below them, a few of the nimble ones she had already seen on Therum even crawling up the insides of the reactor shaft and trying to take shots at them from exposed angles, it became evident where the priority of the geth was at.

Keeping the Thorian, who was now down to the final three cables, shackled.

"They won't stop coming, will they?" Vakarian complained as he fired the one long weapon he had left, his sniper rifle, at a geth and taking its head clean of its synthetic shoulders before again ducking behind the dark metallic frame of a prothean wall that was proving to be very resilient.

"Not as long as they think they've got a chance of taking down the general," the turian lieutenant to Shepard's right replied while sending off a Phaeston burst and taking down one of the geth that had been forcing Arterius to stop his prying on one of the three cables.

"At the rate they're going," Wrex muttered while shrugging of a series of geth pulse fire and biotically tossing the shooter to its doom, "they might just manage to do that before your general pulls the last plug."

"Not if they can't hit him," the N7 said to herself after twisting back into cover and looking at the asari of her team. "Doctor T'Soni," she called to the archeologist that had as far away from the battle as possible, remaining besides Williams and Alenko who she had sent to cover their back.

"Y-yes?" the asari replied, somewhat unsure at firts. "What is it?"

"How long can you hold a biotic barrier?" Due to needing all the guns available to her, she hadn't even thought about giving the task to the turian lieutenant or her own XO on the ground. They were already outnumbered enough as things were, there was no way they could afford occupying one of their shooters to fortify the general's position.

What she wouldn't give to have her former N7 platoon to be with her right now. WIth them she never had to worry about being down a rifle or two.

"Long," the asari replied quickly and confident. "Very long," she repeated while rising to her feet and summoning a ball of purple biotic energy to the palms of her white gauntlets.

"Even if its being shot?" she asked.

"Even if its being shot," T'Soni replied.

With a human or turian she would've been skeptical but the doctor was an asari and Shepard had seen asari use their biotics in combat before. Even the 'weakest' among them possessed a level of control and power few others could match. And even with only a little training, just about all of them outclassed just about all non-asari biotic in the galaxy, their natural, evolutionary affinity giving them an unparalleled advantage over others.

"Time to get ready then," the N7 ordered as she waved for her to come and stand next to her.

Time would tell if her faith would be justified or not.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**

As he pulled on the cord stuck inside the Thorian's hide while pulse rifle fire bounced of his shields, Desolas wondered how far his desperation had come that he was putting his life on the line for an indoctrinated alien that had tried to kill them not half an hour ago.

Was this really what this situation was doing to him?

Making him take this kind of ridiculously stupid risk at becoming indoctrinated on the off-chance that it'd help stop the Harbinger's plan for Saren?

No point in thinking about it now, was there?

He had already taken the leap. Might as well make the most out of its consequences.

Feeling the cord come loose right as his HUD began flashing a bright, warning red with the news that he'd soon be out of a kinetic barrier, the Blackwatch officer ducked back down, counting on the geth's evident unwillingness to risk hitting the implant he was hunkering behind to keep him safe. Just like before that tactic seemed to work well enough for his shields to have some time to recharge.

Or rather it would've if not for the geth hopper he was now seeing climb up the reactor on his exposed left flank. Feeling time slow down as the hand that wasn't holding onto the Thorian reached for his sidearm, Desolas came to a grim realisation while watching the weapon installed in the head of the synthetic light up.

He wouldn't be fast enough and his armor might not stand up to that shot.

Nonetheless, he continued the practiced motion of aligning the Carnifex with his eyes and pulling the trigger of the pistol., barely registering the purple bubble that began engulfing him moments before a beam of light blue plasma could incinerated him. Only when the geth dropped and he kept standing, or rather hanging, did he understand that he now owned his life to Doctor T'Soni and that he could still try and fix the mess he had literally jumped into thanks to her barrier. After returning the weapon to its magnetic holster on his hip, Desolas didn't waste a single second before going on about his task and removing another connection between the cybernetic implant and its unwilling host, leaving the device and himself hanging by thread in the process. Only managing to stop himself from falling by digging his knife and the ends of his other three limbs into the Thorian's skin, Desolas decided to ignore the kind of anxiety he was putting his honorguard through right now. He had to be the one to do this. Having someone else take a jump aimed at fixing what was arguably a situation caused by his own decisions wouldn't have been right.

"Almost there," he grunted as he pulled himself up, the countless small servo-motors in his armor helping him lift his increased weight. Staying low and crawling to where the implant was now hanging, Desolas heard the Thorian shriek as his knife dug into the pale blue skin in an attempt to keep himself from nearly falling to his death again. Beyond saving or not, in a way he felt sorry for the agony he was putting the thing through. No one and nothing deserved what had happened to it. After he got as close to the geth device as he could, Desolas oncea gain took a stupid risk to cover the good arm lenght that he was short of finally pulling it out once and for all. With a move that was equal parts calculated as it was lucky, he jumped on another one of the vines holding the Thorian in place. Then, in another moment of luck, the general sliced the curved Mexta-style blade through the grey cord mid-air with as much force as he could muster before being forced to let go of the blade so that he could use both of his arms to grab the thick vine and keep himself from following the long fall that was now ahead of both the implant and the black knife that had served him faithfully for most of his service in the legion.

If there ever was an excuse to lose one's blade in battle, this was probably it.

Feeling the Thorian calm down the moment the invasive technology had been removed, Desolas didn't think about giving in to his increasing desire to rest. Instead of staying prone on the vine and being exposed to all of the geth now surely training their guns on him, the Blackwatch operative pushed himself to his feet and took another running leap without giving it much thought. But this time he didn't have the biotic assistance of his lieutenant. Only the slight height difference between his starting point and the spot he was aiming for was there to give him enough of a boost to close the long gap towards safe cover.

However before he could start calculating if he was going to make it or not, he had already jumped, fallen and grabbed onto the edge of the black metal floor. Feeling himself be pulled up a second later by another black-armored turian hand, Desolas rolled for cover as soon as he was on solid ground again, taking a single deep breath before unfolding his Phaeston and doing his part in the firefight that would last another ten minutes before the geth decided to pull back to cut their losses.

"I don't want to tempt fate but think they're done with us," the C-SEC officer that had joined Commander Shepard's crew muttered quietly over the squad intercom a minute after the last shot had been fired, his Mantis rifle still resting on top of his cover and aiming to one of the upper levels, the faded and hardly noticeable insignia in shape of a stylized turian eye that signified that this weapon had been handed out as part of the army's marksman school only now standing out to the general.

Interesting.

It took a lot to earn that particular honor.

He might've had a loose mouth but the Palavani certainly seemed to possess a self-discipline and dedication few of Desolas' people had in them.

"So what do we do now?" the krogan bounty hunter asked after another few moments of silence.

"Now we get what he came here for," Desolas spoke as he looked at the frozen figure of the asari-like avatar of the Thorian before figuring that it was time to go and face it's master directly. "We did our part, now it's time for you to keep your promise," he began while nodding for the human Spectre to join him. "The Cipher. Give it to her," the general went on, only turning back around when he heard that the Thorian's reply still came in form of its servant.

"The cold ones and the shackles they brought are removed. But the Old Growth was scathed in the fight," it spoke.

"We can't help you with that," he replied quickly, keeping his own assessment of the Thorian's 'health' and how it was beyond saving to himself.

"It was not expected of you," the avatar replied before quickly stepping up to Shepard and extending her hands in a way that visibly unnerved the N7 to the point where her rifle was again pointing at the creature. "Do not be alarmed. The Thorian means you no harm. As promised you will deliver it's wrath."

"What's that thing doing?" one of the human soldiers, the woman, wondered.

"I think," Doctor T'Soni muttered before her voice was filled with strange fascination, "Goddess, I think it's trying to mindmeld. I didn't think it could replicate that part of our biology. Truly fasc-"

"Is it a threat?" the human lieutenant asked a moment later.

"A bit too late for that question now, is it?" Commander Shepard offered herself before lowering her gun and nodding at the asari. "Do what you have to do."

In an instant the hands of the green asari touched the onyx armor of the Spectre's helmet, both of them seemingly freezing in time for the better part of a minute.

"Now you see as they saw," the Thorian's avatar declared as it pulled its hands back from the human who took a step back. "Now you understand what they understood before you."

"Are you alright, Commander?" the human officer, Alenko if he wasn't mistaken, asked as he slowly walked up to the silent N7 who took another step back. "Commander?"

"I-I-," the human stuttered in a manner completely uncharacteristic of the kind of person she seemed to be. "I don't really know," she finally replied.

"What do you mean, Ma'am?" the biotic inquired before extending a hand to keep his superior from walking into him.

"They're all gone," she muttered before stumbling backwards and falling against the lieutenant. "All gone," she repeated, sending the worry that he had just given an order that had destroyed her mind through Desolas.

"What's wrong with her, Doctor?" Alenko asked as her rifle slipped out of the N7's hands, now dangling only by the sling it was attached to, likely just as confused as the rest of them.

"It's possible that the beacon's message combined with the means to decrypt it are overexerting her brain. We should get her back to the Normandy," as the human soldier looked at the asari, she reinforced her tone. "Right now."

"You heard her," Desolas ordered. "Get your commander out of here. We'll be right behind you," he added before looking at the Thorian and the visible signs of indoctrination spread out over its alien figure.

It might've been willing to help them but it was still too dangerous to be left like this. He'd remain true to his plan from earlier.

"What do you mean right behind you?" the krogan bounty hunter asked while he picked up Commander Shepard with an ease no other member of their squad could've mustered.

"Exactly what I said," he countered as he looked upwards and saw the thin opening of the unfinished tower that led straight down towards them. Although narrow considering the scale of the structure they were in, it wouldn't be a problem for the gunnery officer of the Parnack and the advanced weapons systems of the ship. In a way he figured it'd be more of a mercy than a betrayal really. The agony the Harbinger would subject onto the Thorian if he left it behind like this was far bigger than that a precise shot of the Parnack aimed right at its heart could ever create.

"Let's get moving," the general ordered while looking at the frozen asari-like figure before subetly tossing a target marker to the ground and following the rest of the tower and towards the landing platform they had come from where they ran into the Normandy's recovery team that was now finishing up its work on the old human ship they had found there.

"Jesus Christ, is she?" one of the human marines that had headed for them as soon as they spotted them leaving the tower asked.

"Fine," Desolas assured him. "You're in charge, here?"

"Yes, Sir," the man in black and grey armor nodded as the team of the Normandy walked past him and the corpsman rushing towards them.

"Good," he returned the gesture. "Gather your men, collect whatever you managed to salvage and get ready to leave. We're moving out now. An orbital strike will level this place once we're in the clear."

"A what now?" Vakarian, who had formed the linking piece between the two units asked while suddenly coming to a stop.

"An orbital strike, Palavani," Desolas repeated. "The Thorian is indoctrinated. We need to make sure that the Harbinger doesn't cease full control of it."

"You just risked your life to try and save it, General," the detective pointed out as he folded up his rifle.

"I risked my life to get us the Cipher, Detective," he corrected. "The Thorian was just a means to an end."

"It helped us."

"That doesn't change a thing. It has to be destroyed. It's an asset our enemy can't have access to. I don't think I need to explain that to you, do I?"

"I understand the concept of asset denial but an orbital strike?"

"Hold up. What's this about an orbital strike, Blue?" the krogan bounty hunter, who had returned from bringing Shepard to the craft that was already waiting for them, asked the C-SEC officer-

"Turns out the general is going to bomb the Thorian."

"What?"

"Yes. Says its asset denial," Vakarian nodded before the krogan looked at him.

"It is asset denial," Lieutenant Callius suddenly threw in, somehow feeling obligated to justify the morality of his decision to a bounty hunter of all people. "It's indoctrinated. Destroying it is the only reasonable course of action."

"Is it? Because to me that sounds like a stab in the back."

"If you would've dealt with indoctrination before, you'd understand," the cabal argued.

"What about his brother then? You'll drop a bomb on his head too when we find him?" the bounty hunter spat as all turians, even the one from his team turned their heads to him in silence. "That'd be asset denial as well?" the krogan asked, intentionally trying to provoke him.

"If I were you, I'd stop talking now," Galviat warned from behind as he and Veltax joined into the argument as well.

"Because right now you're going down a road you don't want to be on," Veltax added before the Blackwatch commander decided that he had led this lack of discipline on both sides slide for long enough. There wasn't going to be a fight between allies, at least not while he was around.

"Stand down, Sergeants. Let him say what he wants to say. It won't change a thing," Desolas instructed before staring down the krogan's eyes, uninitiated by the angry glare in them. "Go on then."

"I already said everything I wanted to say, turian. Just didn't take you for the kind of coward that'd stab your allies in the back," the krogan muttered before saying something that did manage to hit as intended. "I guess that just runs in the family."

"What you take me for is none of my concern, bounty hunter. Get to your team."

"Is that an order?" the krogan said as he took a step closer and forcing Desolas to call onto every bit of discipline he had in him to not smash his helmet into the light-brown face in front of him.

"No," he replied calmly before side-stepping the krogan and heading for the shuttle, "It's a suggestion you should heed if you don't want to be incinerated alongside the tower."

* * *

 **Twenty Five Minutes Later**

"-don't know what's wrong with her," she heard someone say faintly, the dizziness and exhaustion making it hard for her to focus on what exactly was being said, the fact that she was hearing something and thus had woken up again being more than enough for her right now. "-like the beacon all over agai-"

If she had gotten that correctly, which she really wasn't sure of given the state she was in, the N7 could only agree. Except for the fact that she was halfway conscious this time around, Emily did feel like she had gone through the Eden Prime mission all over again. Her entire body was hurting, her mind was all messed up, she wasn't entirely sure what had been done to her and the strange feeling that something horrible had happened just outside of her comprehension all seemed quite literally painfully familiar.

"May I sug-" a gentle voice she somehow managed to pinpoint as that of the asari archeologist quipped in, "an unconventional form of treatment?"

"What do you mea-"

Treatment?

Had she been injured?

Shot maybe?

No. She'd remember something like that, wouldn't s-

Suddenly it came back to her. The Thorian, the Cipher, the mind-meld with the Thorian's twisted version of an asari. Like a wave it all crashed down on her and just like big waves tended to, it hurt. A lot. With a jolt she felt her body tense up, the calm and collected instructions of Doctor Chakwas to hold her down and sedate her fading away with the numbness that was spreading through her body.

"-go ahead Doctor T'Soni-"

Go ahead with what?

What was an archeologist going to do if she got hurt in combat?

"-brace eternity, "she managed to catch before blackness washed over her.

For a few seconds, she wasn't sure what was going on. The only thing she was sure of was that this wasn't the work of sedatives. Only when she tried opening her eyes and succeeded ind oing it did Emily get what was going on.

"Commander," the asari scientist now standing in front of her spoke, her voice echoing through the indescribable emptiness that was surrounding the two of them.

"Liara," she whispered, unsure of why she suddenly felt like she had known the scientist for all her life. "What is this place? What's going on? What happened to me?"

"It's a mindmeld." Oh right. She had heard about that before. Heck, unless she was remembering Feros all wrong, she had just gone through one earlier. Or at least experienced the Thorian's poor imitation of one. "And the Cipher the Thorian gave to you overwhelmed you," the asari explained before suddenly rubbing her hands together and looking away from her, seemingly embarrassed. "So this was the only way I could think of to help you. I didn't mean to intrude on you."

"Intrude on me?" Emily asked before realising that the emptiness had been replaced by the familiar scenery of her home on Benning, the bright colours of the garden she had spent a good part of her teenage years in and the warm air of the planet's northern territories bringing back a lot of memories, good and bad alike. "Oh, I see," she muttered as she looked at the familiar glass door leading to her home and inspected her own reflection, finding herself to be wearing civilian attire in form of a yellow summer dress she didn't remember putting on once since enlisting with the HSAMC. "Mindmeld. Go figures it'd do something like this," she said as she tried to pick one of the leaves dangling from the tree to her left, finding them surprisingly tangibleand life-like.

"If I overstepped a line or did so-" the asari stuttered, "I apologize for doing this without your consent," she finally offered while Shepard watched the leave in her hand fade out of existence, its texture, weight and sun-heated warmth disappearing in the span of a few seconds and leaving nothing behind.

"Don't. You're fine," Shepard offered in return before looking up at the sky, finding it to suddenly be a starry night unobstructed by the trees of their garden. Looking back down, she also realised why. Although she was still on Benning, this wasn't her home anymore. It was a cemetery and in front of her was a grave she hadn't been to since the day it had been filled. "I have to ask. Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Is that how this works?"

"I am," Liara spoke with a sad expression her face, clearly looking at the grave herself.

"So you're also feeling what I'm feeling?" the N7 went on as she absent-mindedly tugged on the sleeves of the dress uniform she was now clad in.

"I am," the asari nodded again. "And I am so sorry for your loss," she added, the fact that she was projecting her fears in regards to losing her mother onto what Emily had already lost before her explaining the quiver in her voice.

How the Spectre knew that was the case?

Honestly she wasn't sure about it.

She just knew that it was.

"So am I," Emily sighed as she looked at the empty headstone, what had been written on it still being a mystery to her, before clutching her head as a series of familiar images, this time much slower than earlier, flashed in front of her eyes. Death, destruction, the twisted mockeries of organic life. It was both clear and messed up at the same time.

"Goddess," Liara whispered as she too fought against the impulse that was now assaulting their shared minds, fighting through the initial shock of it much quicker than Emily would've expected. "It's the beacon's message, isn't it?"

"I think so," Shepard frowned while shaking her own head. "But it's a lot worse than before," she added. "More intense, clearer. Real."

"The work of the Cipher, most likely," the archeologist figured as she rubbed her temple.

"Probably," the N7 replied with another groan before dropping to one of her knees, the unfamiliar but flawless interior of a large house overlooking a pristine silver skyline building up around her. "I take it this one is yours?" she asked through gritted teeth while looking at Liara who was now standing in front of her, her bright blue eyes looking down at her with sympathy.

"Yes," the archeologist briefly smiled while offering her a hand. "But I'm afraid it will only temporary distraction from the Cipher's attempt to translate the message," she added with a frown before her freckled face also twisted into an expression caused by suppressed pain.

"Well then," the N7 sighed as she rose to her feet, her now armored hand still linked with that of the asari even after getting up, the little height her armor gave her causing the former eye-level between the two to disappear. "No point in dragging out the inevitable then, is there?"

"I don't know what the translated message might do to us," the archeologist admitted, her fear making its way to Emily alongside a deep, haunting echo she recognized from Eden Prime that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, flooding every corner of the room and bringing with it an omni-present sense of dread.

"Then maybe you should get out of here," she suggested. Just like it was pointless to drag out the Cipher's impact, it would be pointless to risk both of their lives over it. She had survived the beacon's message on her own so Emily figured her odds of living through the translation where solid enough to not worry.

Right?

"I said that I'd join you on Feros to make sure no prothean device harms you," the asari said as her ice-blue eyes glinted with determination and the hand holding onto Emily's gauntlet tightened a little as an orange light started flooding through the windows, alien screams following it suitly. "I meant it. I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you sure about this?" the N7 asked, suddenly uncertain. As a shadow started to eclipse the orange light, laying itself over everything in the pristine home, Emily fought against the instincts screaming at her to get the hell out of here, knowing that she couldn't outrun a battle that would take place in her own head.

So instead of ducking down and hoping that it would pass, Emily opened herself to what was looming on the edge of the world Liara had created for them.

It was the dread of an entire people.

An unbelievable terror unlike anything she had ever felt.

A fear of death that sent a bone-chilling sensation through her body that caused her to grab a hold of the other hand as well in a futile gesture if only because it would've meant that she wasn't going to be alone in the end.

A fear of fighting a fight that was impossible to win and would only serve to drag out a fate that had been set in stone for longer than she could fathom.

A fear of failure. Of letting everyone down that was counting on her.

"You risked your life to save me on Therum," Liara offered with a brave smile that seemed to give her courage she didn't think she could have in her right now. "You trusted me enough to bring me to Feros. Now it's time that I stand with you, Emily."

"Thank you, Liara," she whispered before the full meaning of the beacon's vision hit them with a dark-red beam of light that seemed to burn her on the spot, far faster than she could ever hope to scream out in pain.

Their empty attempts of stopping an unstoppable harvest.

Their destruction at the hands of what they had called the Reapers.

A trillion deaths all etched into a single vision.

There was no way to describe how terrifying that was, especially once she realised that this was what Saren was trying to unleash on them as well. But there, in the horror that had been the fall of prothean civilization and all those who had lived in it, she saw a single ray of light that despite being miniscule compared to the darkness of the Reapers seemed to shine brighter than a thousand suns.

Ilos.

A world hidden from the onslaught of the Reapers' genocide, known only to a few souls who had died to keep its secret.

A world that had hidden the last protheans who had then sacrificed their own future to prevent the fate that had met them from ever returning and to give those who'd come after them the hint of a chance at breaking a pattern that had repeated itself time and again.

The Conduit.

The entrance Saren intended to use to unleash the Reapers for another harvest.

But also the entrance she could use to stop him from achieving that goal.

To give them more time.

To give them a chance.

Now all she needed was to know where it wa-

As quickly as the dark-red light had appeared, it vanished, the message and the terror attached to it coming to an apprupt end, leaving her question unanswered.

"-think they're finally waking up," the commander heard right when the full weight of everything that had happened crashed down on her.

"Right in time then," the voice of General Arterius offered before Shepard opened her eyes to the ceiling lamps.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 16. January 2415 AD, Noveria, Port Hanshan**

Feeling the dark fabric finally being pulled off his head, the specialist took a few seconds to adjust to the bright lighting of the room he had been sitting in for the last few hours and realised that it had indeed been a good decision to not break out of the pathetic excuse of a restraint that had been used to tie him to the by now very uncomfortable office chair. The guards present in the room would've complicated that. Looking around the white walls and tainted windows of the interrogation room, he noted the reflection of the door behind him that could serve as a quick exist if it had to.

"Start talking. Now," the turian in charge demanded of him as he noted the NDC security patch on her uniform clearly displaying her allegiance to the Noveria Development Corporation, the company that owned the colonialisation rights to the freezing ball of rock he was stuck on for the time being and had time and again declined the offer of HSA protection so many other independent worlds had taken following the Skyllian Blitz.

"You might want to be a little bit more specific than that," Daniel Morneau replied with a shrug and a roll of his neck that caused the stiff joints to crack. "Unless you just want me to tell you about my day or something like that," he added quickly. "Which by the way was going spectacular before you guys showed up and ruined it."

"Quit your mind games. We want answers," another member of the security force threathened as he pushed his chair back to the point where he almost fell over backwards.

These were amateur scare tactics. Besides telling him that they didn't know what they were doing, it also let the specialist know that they had no idea who they were actually dealing with. No one would expect a trained intelligence operative to fall for the good old chair tilt-trick.

"Fine," he groaned, playing along in his own way. "Start asking."

Why was it that he was always the one who got to be the bait? How come his partner never went into these situations and did the talking? Why did she always get to play the cavalry and save him when these things inevitably went south after they got what they wanted? Besides the very obvious and very logical answer that his biotic abilities made him 'harder' to disarm he really, really couldn't come up with a sound answer that didn't boil down to him always getting the bad half of these assignments because she was so good at talking him into things.

"You're working for the Shadow Broker," the turian security captain spoke, snapping him out of his half-serious internal complaint. "On Noveria of all places. Why? Corporate espionage?"

It was a bit more complicated than that.

No scratch that.

It was a lot more complicated than that.

Following their successful operation with Okuda in Milgrom, the Section 13 agents had followed their objective of 'guiding' the Broker's personal vendetta against the rogue Spectre in a way that would help them with stopping the turian from fulfilling whatever mission the Harbinger had entrusted onto him. Going from there, the data they had gotten from the backdoor into the Broker's network, something mostly owned to the information broker's very own arrogance, had been combined with the information they did have on Saren Arterius which in the end had led them to the conclusion that Noveria was where the Broker could hurt the rogue Spectre the most. Whatever it was that he was funding in the nearby research lab, it was worth enough for him to go out of his way to smuggle geth and krogan mercenaries onto Noveria, something that was sure to lose him whatever influence he still held over the NDC and their assets if it ever came out.

Hence it was also worth messing with.

"I'm not working for the Broker," he pointed out.

"Instead?"

Oh what the hell.

It might just do the trick.

"You see, I'm actually here to stop a rogue Spectre from ushering in the end of the world as we know," Morneau countered in as much of a sarcastic tone as he could muster so that no one would get the idea that he had just told them the truth. "But I don't wanna bore you with the details. So let's just say that the short version is this. I'm not a corporate spy and I'm not working for the Shadow Broker."

"He's messing with us," one of the guards said, pointing out what he thought was an obvious lie, before pulling out his baton and holding it up threateningly, an action that the specialist wouldn't allow to finish if he was forced to. "Why are we listening to this? We could just-" as he readied himself to break the cuffs with a burst of biotic power and fight it out, Morneau's muscles tensed up in anticipation.

"Lose our jobs over unnecessary use of force?" the one in charge said as her hand pulled down the blunt weapon quickly and pressed it into the fabric of the guard's with enough force to make him exhale in pain. "Put that thing away and go wait outside", she ordered while looking after him."Idiot," she added with a sigh.

"I take it they don't hire the best and brightest out here?" the specialist asked, hiding the obvious provocation behind a smirk.

"What are you doing here?" the security officer simply inquired in return.

"I just told you. I'm here to try and stop the end of the world."

"Cut the crap, human. We found a direct link to the Broker's network on your omni-tool," hadn't been his. That one was stored safely with Yo-yo, "So start talking before we start drugging you," drugs? Now they were finally moving out of amateur territory.

"Okay. Fine," he sighed, faking a defeated tone before beginning his reverse interrogation. "I guess you heard about Peak 15 ?" He certainly hadn't. He had no idea what was happening over there or what projects had resided in the facility prior to the incident. The only thing he had managed to catch before being, well, 'caught' was that something had happened in the most classified of the seventeen remote research facilities of the NDC and that the shippings of Arterius had arrived shortly before it, which was the one fact that made it interesting to Section 13 since it presented the hottest trail to the rogue Spectre as of now.

"The research lab that went dark yesterday?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"Well my boss-"

"The Shadow Broker?" the turian injected, causing Morneau to fake a sigh before using the angle for his own advantage.

"Since you're so set on that being the case, yes, the Shadow Broker," he nodded, "wanted me to figure out what happened to his source over there."

"The Broker snuck an informant into one of our remote sites?"

No.

He most certainly hadn't.

The only thing he had done on Noveria up to now was to mess with some of Arterius' financial assets and sow discord at the discretion of the 'intel' Morneau had fed him.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Wouldn't you like to kno-"

"Who?" the turian demanded as her fist smashed on the table.

There it was, his opening. Putting as much defeat and resignation into his tone as possible, the specialist played his gambit to its intended end.

"A staff member of the company renting it," he replied vaguely while sounding completely sincere despite having no idea what was happening in Peak 15.

"Impossible. All the Binary Helix employees and their transmissions are under constant surveillance."

Perfect. Binary Helix. He could work with that. There was only so much a bio-engineering company could be doing for a rogue Spectre and he figured it if they could interfere with it, his efforts would be set back. A lot.

"Well, I guess your security's not as tight as you figured it was," he offered while activating the agreed upon signal with his watch and counting down in his head.

"We did manage to catch you," the turian pointed out before reaching for her weapon and instructing the guards to lift him from his chair, something he half heartedly fought to put up an illusion of things not going his way.

Twenty seconds.

"And the penalty for corporate espionage on Noveria, which you just confessed to, just happens to be exile from any NDC station on the planet," there really was something strange about how casually she announced the sentence of death by exposure.

Fifteen.

"The death penalty? A bit illegal in Council Space, isn't it?" he shrugged as he was being turned around, looking at the door he didn't want to be in front of right now if the small dot attached to it which the HUD of his glasses was showing him was anything to go by.

"We make our own laws around here, human. Should've read up on that before taking the job."

Ten.

"Yeah about that," he said. "I kind of lied."

"What?" the turian inquired before turning him around, her taloned hand grabbing his face and her Carnifex pressing against his chin, sending the HUD glasses falling to the ground.

Just five more.

"About everything really," he said before the audible noise of his restraints being broken by biotic energy caused shock to spread over her plated, unmarked face. As he jumped up, his weight still supported by the surprised guards holding onto him from either side, and kicked both his feet forward, the turian captain went flying, cracking against the glass and going limp right as his barriers flared up to protect him from the explosion that knocked out both of the guards standing next to him. Climbing to his feet right as two lone shots made their way into the heads of the guards, ending both their lives, he jumped to his feet and dusted off the sleeves of his jacket right as the turian captain's head exploded with a third bullet.

"You couldn't have picked something more quiet than a breaching charge?" he asked.

"You're complaining that I saved your butt again, Magic?" Yo-yo, who unlike him was wearing a combat hardsuit and a helmet, said as she handed him a pistol.

"Complaining about the way you did it," he corrected as he looked at the deceased guards in the corridor. "So much for staying subtle and moving under the radar."

"It's fine. While you were busy playing mind games all day, I sorted things out and got us a ride to Peak 15," Yo-yo shrugged.

"Fair point," Morneau replied as he looked at the dead guards. There'd be a lot of consequences to this. Most probably coming in the shape of mass accelerators rounds. "Whoever they are, they better bring something armored."

"I'm sure they got it covered."

"How so?"

"I got us the closest and fasted available HSA ship."

So much for plausible deniability.

Then again, if a situation ever warranted explaining why human forces touched down on an independent world that had refused their offers of protection, which was a rather self-explanatory mess, it was probably one that had the fate of the galaxy at stake.

"Which was?"

"The Normandy."

* * *

 _Codex: Asari Mindmeld_

 _Often described as a remarkable product of the asari's unique evolutionary chain that led into a mono-gendered species, the exact origin behind their ability to 'meld minds', or rather tap into and share their nervous system with another organic being, are still poorly understood despite several millennia worth of study of both asari and non-asari scientist. Usually viewed as a side-effect of their reproduction methods, mindmelds can also be shared without sexual intend with their most famous usage being that of asari diplomats using their ability to accelerate the process of learning the salarian languages prior to the invention of the Translator Matrix and their most common usage occuring between friends and family as a means of an intimate farewell shortly before the death of one of the individuals invovled._

 _Although usually brief, some mindmelds may take hours, or in rare cases even days, to complete depending on the individuals involved in it. As such the subtle dangers of the act are taught to asari as young as forty, the time around which the ability first begins to manifest. In addition to potentially becoming a victim of physical exhaustion, a rare genetic defect found in a miniscule portion of 'pure-blooded' individuals, asari who's parents are also both asari, may lead to the death of one of the parties involved in the act._

 _While generally viewed as an intimate gesture, radical medical applications of the mindmeld are known to be used in the field of psychology and, much to the dismay of many non-Illium asari and law of Council space, also used as a means of solving crime through the forceful invasion of a mind and the memories within it, a process that is capable of permanently damaging the brain of the one being invaded should they resist and is known to be capable of leading to injury and death._

 _While a regular part of asari society and their everyday life, the initial culture shock another species may display upon learning that any asari may join their minds with someone else has been considered, the two occasions during which contact between a new species and the Council wasn't initiated by asari diplomats alone, the quarian and human first contact with salarian and turian forces respectively, remaining the only two times since the opening of relations between the volus and the Council where their ability to meld minds wasn't initially kept a secret._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Here we are, the end of my version of Feros.**

 **Only like... five weeks after the last chapter. Yay for not being late. At all or something like that.**

 **Well, I don't actually have much to say to this chapter other than that we're closing in on Noveria and the 'end' of the middle part of Mass Effect 1, which was marked by me finally dropping the R-Bomb (reapers) for our good guys and will be followed up by the continuation of the Renegade's and Redford's story and Vermire... which is also going to be way different.  
**

 **Now, a bit of a real life heads-up. Starting december, I'm going to be working... different hours. Not less, but different. I will have to wait and see how that affects my writing scheduel (which doesn't exist since I again pumped this chapter out in a couple of days after weeks of not doing anything other than writing down its general structure.)**

 **Also, with the new Stellaris expansion coming up (hopefully soon), I also don't know how I'll use my free time :p  
**

 **Also also, since I sinceriely doubt that I'll make it to that day, I'd like to point out that we are QUICKLY heading to our two year anniversary, which still seems so surreal. I've been doing this for two years and I JUST finished Feros.**

 **Really speaks for how much bigger than originally planned Semper Vigilo became.**

 **However what I am going to say now is this. Sometime after the anniversary, probably before Christmas, the first story of what I am now calling Semper Vigilo: Anthologies is going to be uploaded as a new story in its own. While I do picture a parallel release, meaning I'll bring you chapter 59 and "Hazard Pay", which is the title of the first chapter/short story of SV:A, the more likely scenario is that Hazard Pay will drop sometime around Christmas and the next chapter will drop either mid-december before it... or if I get really overwhelmed by working regular shifts, which is what I meant by different hours... in January.**

 **Yeah.**

 **I promise to try and get kind of 'quicker' again at the end of January, where I'll have three weeks of vacation followed by another half-year of shorter, theoretical 'school' stuff. ( I put that in quotes because well, it's still an academy and not really a school)**

 **But I really don'T know if I'll make it. So we'Re just gonna hav eto wait and see.**

 **Other than that? I only really want to thank everyone of you for following me over these last two years, whether you actually hit follow or not. It just means a lot to actually have people read what I put up and enjoy it all the while. It's amazing, really.**

 **Thanks. For all of you.**

 **Now. Enough of that.**

 **For the record we're at 510 reviews, 791 favorites and 883 follows.**

 **With these numbers, my hope is to hit 800 and 900 respectivley by the end of 2018. But even if we don't it's fine, because there's still so much more of you than I ever thought when I started outlining Semper Vigilo this time in 2016.  
**

 **See you around next time.**


	59. With Allies Like These

**Chapter 59. With Allies Like These**

* * *

 **16\. January 2415 AD, Noveria, Port Hanshan**

"The Normandy?" he repeated while stepping through the blown-out doorframe and following his partner after retrieving the set of HUD glasses the now dead turian security captain had knocked off his face a few seconds ago and the omni-tool she had kept on her. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"No idea. I'm just glad they were this close," Yo-yo shrugged before looking at him, the reflective visor of her helmet hiding her expression. "This isn't going to end like it did back on the Citadel, is it?"

"Meaning?" the specialist replied over the noise of the building's fire alarms going off. Not that he really needed to hear the answer anyway. He already had a good idea what she was talking about.

"You losing your cool all of the sudden because Alec's daughter shows up?"

"Ah. That," Morneau said dryly. Remembering the talk he had had with Director Rei about repaying a dead man and how that could easily get you killed, he gave the reply both Yo-yo and he were hoping would be true. "Yeah. That won't be a problem again."

"You sure?" she inquired.

"Positive," he assured her.

"Good," Yo-yo nodded as a map appeared in his field of vision, displaying the blue prints of this level of the port. "With the evacuation going on, I think we've got a good shot at taking the long way to the northern dock without getting into another fight."

"So there was a point to the rash entrance after all," the specialist teased with a smirk.

"Come on, Magic," Yo-yo replied as she suddenly pulled him into a room on the side of the corridor and tossed her backpack on the ground before placing her weapon next to it. "Have you ever known me to do anything rash without there being a point?" she asked as she pulled the helmet off her head and looked at him.

"Yeah. I distinctively remember the time you-"

"Not the answer I was going for," she cut him before strangely enough hitting the emergency release on her armor's left arm, causing the modular plating to fall off and revealing the black undersuit hidden beneath it. "Moving on with my rescue of your butt," as he looked at the blueprint and watched a path being drawn to one of the major rally points used in case of an emergency evacuation like this one, Morneau also listened to the plan Yo-yo had likely come up with while he had been 'held captive' and hoped that it was going to explain whatever was going on right now. "The best way for us to get to our rendezvous with the Normandy without making this messier than it has to be is to stick to where people would go in case the port is attacked. Get invisible in the crowd until we can slip out."

"You do know that they have my face, right?"

"No they don't," she replied while repeating the process on her right arm, adding its armor plating to the other grey hardsuit pieces already lying on the floor. "I took care of that on my way in. Wiped your data clean off their camera network. As far as NDC Security is concerned, you're just another stranger."

"That's good and all but they definitely have a description of me, Yo-yo," Morneau pointed out while looking at her shed more of the hardsuit and counting on the Normandy to be able to armor her up again now that she was dumping her portion of the small armory the specialists had smuggled on the planet. "One observant grunt and we're made."

"I know that it's not an optimal solution," she said while tossing the last piece of her armor, her helmet, onto the pile as well and undoing the ponytail of her hair, sliding the hairtie that had kept it together over her wrist." But if we're quick about it, it's our best chance of getting out of here without creating a political incident or shooting more people who're just trying to do their job," as she opened the backpack and revealed the civilian clothing stored inside it, Yo-yo placed a hand of the undersuit's zipper and continued as if he wasn't there, causing Morneau to turn around and idly inspect the details, or rather the lack of details, of the door in front to keep himself occupied as she finished changing. Through silent agreements such as this one they had managed to keep things uncomplicated between them, which considering how intimate some of their cover stories had gotten with each other as part of some of their missions was a miracle in itself. If you went from being colleagues to faking being in love and then back to colleagues again, staying professional was equal parts important and hard. And since there was hardly anything he hated as much as the alternative, having it become complicated, he was glad to pull his weight in keeping things from going there, even if they were just as small as looking at a boring door for a minute or two.

"Done?" he asked after a few more moments of staring at the flawless, grey metal in front of him.

"Yeah," Yo-yo replied, giving him the all-clear to turn back around right in time to watch her stuff her own folded assault rifle into the backpack before closing its scanner-shielded compartment and slinging the pack over one of her shoulders. "All set?" she asked.

"What about the hardsuit?" he pointed out while looking at the expensive pieces of armor lying on the ground and stuffing his SIS-8 pistol into the empty holster concealed by his waistband.

"Incendiary mod," Yo-yo offered while bringing up her omni-tool and gesturing for him to leave the room. When she had followed and urged him to take just more step for good measure, a ball of orange plasma shot from her wrist. The plasma quickly burned through the armor and reduced it to an unrecognizable molten mess just as it was intended to do and also had the beneficial side effect of producing smoke that was sure to keep the alarms going should someone try and switch them off manually. Judging by the satisfied smile on her face that he noticed as she turned around to lead the way, the other specialist had also planned this.

"Is there something about this get-away that you didn't think through?" Morneau wondered as he followed her down the corridor and to one of the designated evacuation routes, throwing a cautious look behind them to make sure that they weren't being followed, which considering that everyone in that direction was dead had probably been a rather pointless act.

Still, better safe than dead.

"Nope. Just like you always improvise, I plan everything," the brunette replied as she took a turn around the corner, keeping her pace exactly as one would expect it of a worried Noveria port authority bureaucrat right until she was sure that everything was still in the clear and slowing down a bit. "It's why we work," she added casually a moment later.

"I don't always improvise," Morneau countered as he mirrored her behaviour after catching up to her side.

"Nine out of ten times you do."

"Which isn't always," the biotic Section 13 agent pointed out before sliding back into the persona of an evacuee who was doing his best not to panic as he spotted a NDC security guard waving for some other civilians and by extension also them to keep going the way they were going to go either way.

"Don't fall asleep back there. It's not safe yet!" the turian guard called, his voice flanging over the sound of the alarm, amplified by the speakers of the helmet of his light set of armor. "Keep going to the checkpoint and ready your credentials!" he added.

Credentials.

Now that was something he didn't own anymore. The forged credentials he had used to get to Noveria had been lost during his 'capture', probably still being stored somewhere in the security bureau they had left earlier. Yesterday that had been a price he had been ready to pay to figure out what was happening at Peak 15 and what Arterius had to do with it. Now that it might get them captured again, this time for real, he wasn't so sure of the pay-off of that gamble anymore. Throwing a look at the other specialist who was already holding a new, transparent card with his picture his way, Morneau subtly grabbed the ID in silent appreciation and decided that between the two of them, Yo-yo had used the last twenty four hours far more productively than him. Sure, he had gotten them the information but without her, Morneau figured he wouldn't get to use it. At least not without completely failing their usual directive of keeping things as under-the-radar as possible and sparking accusations that the HSA would start messing with any independent world in the Attican Traverse that decided not to take up their offer of protection.

When they had reached the checkpoint, Morneau slid the card through the machine and moved through the scanner without incident, the fact that it was checking for the signals and Eezo signature of a mass accelerator gun and not a 'primitive' human firearm, allowing him to pass with the mere notice that he might be a biotic or have an otherwise unhealthy amount of Element Zero in his body. Considering that half the people that were walking in front of or behind him were asari, it wasn't even worth noting for the rare human guard that was trying to keep an eye on all of all the evacuees at once and doing as good of a job at it as could be expected from a corporate security guard.

"When we're past the evacuation zone, we just have to find a way back to the northern docks. That's where I told the Normandy to meet us," Yo-yo whispered to him as they moved through the mass of uneasy and impatient workers waiting to get an explanation as to what was going on and why they were being kept from going about with their business.

"Easier said than done," he replied while inspecting the guards posted at the main exit of the corporate lobby they had gathered in, their heavier armor leading him to assume that they were some kind of emergency response unit that was trained to handle these kinds of situations.

"Can I have your attention, please!" a voice suddenly shouted just as the alarm was shut off, making his use of an omni-tool to amplify his message seem a bit overblown.

"Yes!" an anonymous member of the crowd shouted back, the tone of her voice leading Morneau to believe that it was an asari. "And while you have it, do go ahead and tell us why you're turning this drill into such a colossal waste of our time! I could be making money right now, you know?"

"A drill? Whatever gave you the impression that-" the source of the voice, yet another turian, asked in return before shaking his head right as Morneau spotted him standing on a balcony overlooking the lobby. "This isn't a drill!" he clarified right as more armed guards began pouring into the room, closing off the exit leading to the docks behind them before starting their inspections of people's credentials. "This part of the port and other company assets are under attack as we're speaking," the security officer explained as the other specialist threw him a look that told him that this was something she hadn't exactly planned for. "For the time being, we're under orders to not leave this level and wait for reinforcements to deal with this invasion."

Hmm.

Interesting.

That almost certainly sounded like the NDC believed that their little get-away was orchestrated by the same force that was responsible for whatever was going on at Peak 15 and that it was a coordinated effort aimed at all of Noveria. They might just be able to use that to their advantage if they played their cards right. That was the thing about the unknown. It could easily be turned into an advantage.

"Invasion?" a third voice cried, the panic it carried giving the specialist a rather unconventional idea and setting him into motion, vanishing from Yo-yo's side with nothing but a quick look to confirm that she knew he was on the move. "By whom?" it demanded to know as he maneuvered towards a large batarian, figuring that he would stand out well enough to make a decent pawn for what he had in mind.

While it probably would've been described as somewhat cliche idea by most of his colleagues, Morneau just figured that he never had been one to pass up on a good opportunity if it presented itself like this. Sure it wasn't the most creative or subtle plan but nothing would get them out of here as quickly as the small crowd panicking and thus forcing the guards to open up the entrances again or be slowly crushed against them.

Was it dangerous?

Probably.

Crowds of panicked, angry people wanting to go into one direction and one direction alone were scary for a reason. But danger was part of the job. Hence the only question that mattered to him right now was this. Would it get them out of here quickly and with a degree of anonymity? Finding the answer to that one was only really going to happen one way.

"We don't know ye-"

"It's the geth isn't it?" he called through the room in as guttural and deep of a voice as his omni-tool voice modulator could produce before quickly ducking behind the batarian and sliding back into the invisibility of the crowd of business people and out of the view of the people who might've noticed him standing behind the alien.

Although it wasn't the truth in their case, it wasn't a lie either that the geth were on Noviera. At this point he was sure that the synthetic and krogan troops Arterius had smuggled onto the planet were the reason why Peak 15 had gone dark. He just hadn't gotten the chance to prove it.

Yet.

"The geth?" the turian repeated, sounding just unsure and confused enough to produce the desired effect. "It's not the ge-"

"Goddess! The geth? Here on Noveria?" an asari cried in sudden distress.

"We're all gonna to die!" a familiar voice called after recognizing his intention.

"Not if we get out of here!" a salarian figured. "The ships are right this way! Come on, what are you waiting for?" he asked as he shoved his way through the crowd, passing Morneau in the process, and got in the face of one of the guards. "What are you doing? Let us through!" he shouted as more people joined him, making it hard for the armored NDC grunts to keep their distance without use of force, something they were understandably reluctant of doing considering the people opposite of them were the same ones paying them.

"Please, stay Calm!" the turian ordered to no effect. "Spirits, it's not the damn geth. Calm down already!" he called desperately and again, to no effect. As Morneau pinpointed the moment the security officer realised that no one was going to listen to him anymore, a stroke of luck he couldn't possibly have accounted for turned his idea from a decent albeit risky solution to a nearly perfect way out.

"What's your pay grade right now, Sergeant?" a man with greying hair asked as he shoved the salarian to the side and lifted an important looking ID card to the face of an asari guard. "Because I'm way above it and if you open that door," he said while pointing at door behind them, "you'll get his job tomorrow," he added while pointing at the baffled looking turian above him.

"Don't you dare, Sergeant," he called back down, drawing the attention of the asari. "We have our orders. It's our job to keep these people in here, where they'll be safe!"

"If you don't do it, Sergeant, maybe the next guy will?" the man in the suit asked while addressing the next guard, a confused looking salarian.

"That's not how a chain of command works-"

"Open it," the asari suddenly instructed the guard to her right, inadvertently raising the anticipation of the crowd and making the situation even harder to control. "What are you waiting for? Open the stupid door! "

"No! Stand down, Corporal!" the turian roared from above, waving at his subordinates to stop what they were doing and at least making the guard at the door freeze for now. "You are not opening this door."

"Don't listen to him, he's already fired," the man in the suit threw in while looking at the stunned corporal."Do as your new captain says. Let us through."

"Yes, let us through! The geth will be here any minute!" the other salarian from earlier pressured before more people joined in on his chanting.

"Dammit, Corporal, open the door! Right now!" the asari urged again, finally causing the guard to do as he was told and clearing their way to the northern dock.

As Yo-yo and him went with the flow of the increasingly more panicked crowd, moving out of the room and towards the docks, Morneau was well aware that he had gotten incredibly lucky. Additionally he came to the morbid conclusion that something would go terribly wrong later down the line. Because in his experience, the universe wasn't just going to give him a win like that without having something a lot worse to throw at him waiting down the line.

That just wasn't how the world worked for him.

* * *

 **Forty Minutes Earlier, HSASV Normandy**

"As your leading medical officer, I still have to insist that you don't go, Commander," Chakwas called from behind her as Emily, fueled by a mixture of emergency rations and medigel-induced high, marched through the door of the armory. With her helmet in one hand and the Valykrie assault rifle in the other, her eyes were set on the Kodiak where Alenko and Williams were already making final preparations on and her mind barely paid attention to what Chakwas had been saying all the way down here.

"I told you, Doctor. I'm not letting my team do this on my own," she repeated herself for waht felt like the twentieth time.

"Unless I gravely misunderstood him when he said that he'd come along, General Arterius will be there as well. Surely he can fill in for you while you recover from your encounter with Doctor T'Soni and the Thorian. It's only been two hours since you woke up from a two-day coma. The last thing you should be doing right now is go and answer yet another distress signal! It's just too dangerous."

That made her stop dead in her tracks.

"Are you talking about the same general who nearly fell to his death while trying to save the Thorian only to blow him up half an hour later? The same general who hijacked command of my marines and destroyed the an invaluable IFS corvette before we could complete our salvage operation?" the N7 argued back, venting the frustration she had kept in her ever since Alenko had told her how their operation on Feros had been concluded. "Because if you are, I'm not so sure he can fill in for me without dropping another orbital strike along the way."

She didn't know much about why they were going to Noveria but there was one thing she was certain about. If a turian orbital attack were to become part of this mission as well, her superiors, HSA and Council alike, would start asking even more questions. If her XO Pressly was to be believed, the latter had already been furious when word of the destruction of the prothean tower had spread, calling it 'a painfully high prize in her mission to save Councilor T'Soni from the rogue Spectre Arterius' and likely only decided to accept it because this entire thing was about one of their own or because they still lacked some of the details. Or maybe because Pressly had done a very good job at selling this massive screw up as something necessary.

Since she wasn't so sure if the HSA would be as forgiving of the deaths of two high ranking HSAIS operatives, who were definitely involved in all kinds of illegal activities and shouldn't even be on Noveria in the first place, and the political fallout that would bring with it, the N7 wasn't going to let General Arterius stand in for her. Despite all the respect she had held for the turian and his rank, one thing had become very clear in the brief period she hadn't been around. If the right buttons were pushed, buttons she could not claim to not find on Noveria, he'd make extreme choices with no regard for their wider consequences just because he was convinced that it needed to be done. Since that was the polar opposite of what was being asked of them in this instance, she just couldn't give in to the reasonable request Doctor Chakwas had for her.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. But letting Blackwatch run this op alone is the thing that's far too dangerous right now," she said before realising that the turian member of her crew had overheard most of what she had just said, his surprised expression leaving her to wonder about the damage she might've just created in a single moment of losing control.

"Detective-" she began, looking at the turian standing at one of the tables near the armory's entrance.

"Don't bother. I'm the last person you need to explain distrusting Blackwatch to, Commander," the turian shrugged while looking up from what appeared to be a half-way disassembled, Phaeston, likely retrieved from the arsenal of the Normandy's turian sister ship. As he began putting the weapon back together, he also began to explain, his icy blue eyes growing more narrow in the process."I get why you'd be careful around them. I really do," he assured her as he inspected the barrel in the light of the ceiling lamps and clenched his mandibles at something inside it.

"Why's that?"

"Where to start?" the turian said as he put the weapon back together. "First they made my uncle tackle a suicide bomber and thanked us for his honorable service. Then they took my old man's good arm and retired him to a soulless desk job on the Citadel, called it a privilege to have served with him and didn't waste a second thinking about how that would break his spirit in the long run," wiping his omni-tool over the assembled gun and looking at the turian numerals and letters it showed with a disappointed look, Vakarian began to disassemble the weapon again. "And that was just the lastest generation of Vakarians," he added with a mutter.

"So that's what you meant when you said family relations," she remembered before quickly recalling what the decent reaction would've been. "I'm sorry about your uncle." Even though she didn't think condolences did any good, it was still common etiquette.

"Don't be. He did what we're all raised to idolize. Dying a hero without a second of regret," the turian chuckled. "And yes. That's exactly what I meant by family relations. The Blackwatch and the Vakarian bloodline are hard to separate. That's the good thing about keeping meticulous track of history and legacy the way we do. You always know when and where and why your ancestors died," he explained before again looked at the barrel of the Phaeston, leading Shepard to believe that something about its state had been the reason for the repeated disassembly. "What I'm trying to say is this," he said as he grabbed one of the tools lying on the table in front of him and got back to work. "They might be the best at what they do but just like the cabals, there's a reason most sane turians don't fancy being around the Blackwatch," Vakarian said with a sigh that could either be aimed at the state of the weapon in front of him or the story he was telling, both being equally likely.

"And what's that reason?" the N7 asked, folding her arms. He had gotten her curiosity now. It wasn't exactly something she had expected to hear from the detective.

"They take the whole 'victory at any cost' mindset way too far," coming from a turian, hearing that kind of accusation meant a lot. "I mean I'm turian. So I get self sacrifice. Like everyone else I went through the whole 'greater good and civic service' lecture a thousand times over. They drill that into us all our lives. Same thing, day in, day out," he went on. "But with Blackwatch every op they run can turn into a suicide mission just because that's the thing they train for, the thing they all expect to have to do one day. Fighting the impossible fight and dying a hero of the Hierarchy. Spirits, the whole part about knowing when your time's up and accepting it is even part of their damned creed," for some reason that last part seemed to carry a lot of resentment. "And unless you're one of them or really, really desperate, you're bound to see how that mindset destroys them and the people around them eventually," there it was again. The underlying resentment.

"I see," Emily said before throwing a look towards Doctor Chakwas, not feeling like she had to further elaborate why she had to tag along after this particular story. "Thanks for sharing something so personal with me. I appreciate, really."

"Don't mention it. Considering what we're doing here, those stories hardly deserve the label classified," Vakarian offered with a shrug before waving the omni-tool over the weapon again, finally appearing satisfied, packing it and the tools on the table up and heading for the shuttle himself after throwing a final look at the two human women. Emily honestly hadn't expected him to be anywhere near this open about his life. Then again, besides a few brief conversations, she hadn't really spoken to him ever since their run-in in the clinic on the Citadel shortly before they had set out on this mission.

"All things considered I still have to insist that you don't go," Chakwas repeated once the turian was out of imminent earshot. "We can't be sure you won't relapse into a catatonic state while deployed. I'm worried about the effect it might have on you now that the beacon's message has been fully decrypted."

"And I get why you would," the N7 sighed herself. "What if I were to bring Liara with me?" she suddenly injected, finding the suggestion a reasonable compromize.

"Liara?" the human doctor asked in return, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and likely wondering when the asari and her had entered first name basis.

"Doctor T'Soni," Emily corrected herself quickly. "The way I understood it, she fixed me the first time, right? If I bring her along and something goes wrong again, she can just bring me back again. Can you live with that?"

"You're making this a bit too easy for yourself, Commander. Just because it worked once, doesn't mean it'll work again. Besides, the last time she brought you back both of you were out cold for nearly two days," Chakwas pointed out what Emily already knew. It wasn't going to change her mind now that it was made up. "I don't think I have to explain to you why that's a horribly irresponsible decision."

It was. Still, the reasons why she needed to go far outweighed that. While she'd hate to pull rank on the Doctor, something only made possible by her new status as a Spectre, she'd do it if Chakwas forced her hand.

"If that happens I'm sure Wrex can carry the two of us by himself," Shepard finally replied as she sent the message informing Liara to come and join them before continuing to walk to the Kodiak, planting a foot in its crew compartment as she reached it. Looking at the Doctor that had followed her, Emily put up a serious expression. "If you have any further objections, this is the time, Doc."

"Just a remark, Commander."

"All ears."

"There are a lot of places in life where being stubborn like this can bring you very far," she frowned, visibly displeased with the realisation that Emily wouldn't listen to her. "But doctors aren't one of them. Please. Be extremely careful."

"I will," the commander nodded before offering a smile. "And I promise you, when I'm back, you can run all the tests you want."

* * *

 **Ten Minutes Later, En Route to Noveria**

"Once we hit the port, you'll have to use your Spectre status to get local authorities off our back," General Arterius told her over the radio while sitting in the turian shuttle following the human Kodiak through the upper layer of Noveria's atmosphere. "The NDC doesn't like the Council stepping on their soil but as long as you're the one leading us, we can get in without causing a major incident. They don't respect our laws but they do respect the Spectres." Was it really respect though? Or was it fear? Considering some of the things a number of her new colleagues. dead and alive alike, had done in the past, it could easily be the latter.

"Hold up. My induction with the Spectres is supposed to stay a secret. Council's orders," she reminded the general.

"I am aware of that. But the reason behind keeping your status as a Spectre classified for the time being was aimed at my brother, not the public. Since he's well aware of your existence by now, I'm sure the Council no longer cares if people know. What matters to them is the success of your mission, not the way you achieve it." From what she knew about the Spectres, that sounded about right. "And if they do care, you have my word that I'll take full responsibility for the consequences."

Alright. She could live with that.

"Understood," Emily said before asking the question lingering in the back of her head. "Out of curiosity, how would this have gone down if I had listened to our medical officer and hadn't come along?"

"I still would've gotten us on the ground," the general replied. "It just would've been more likely to create a major incident."

"Alright," Shepard said. "Can I ask something else, General?"

"It's your mission, Commander."

"How come you're so invested in saving a couple of HSAIS operatives? Allies or not, this is hardly our mission."

For a moment, the general didn't reply.

"They didn't tell you yet?"

Great.

If the time since Eden Prime had been any indication, sentences starting with a combination of those words were bound to upset her.

"They did not."

"The operatives we'll recover are Section 13," as she had suspected, her mood was going down the drain right now. Her last run-in with that branch of HSAIS' Bureau of Field Work hadn't exactly left a good impression and last she had heard the quarian that had suffered the most from it was still recovering under the watchful eye of the HSA's embassy staff and Captain Anderson. "They were sent to Noveria for the same reason we went to Therum and Feros. Their mission was to interfere with my brother's operation on this planet."

"That sounds like something you should've told me when I woke up earlier." The respect he had earned up to now quickly seemed to evaporate in the last few hours.

"I only found out myself when I returned to the Parnack," Arterius countered calmly. "If you're looking for someone to blame in this regard, I suggest you blame your own intelligence service. It's their fondness of secrecy that kept me from finding out earlier."

In hindsight that was probably true.

No. Scratch that probably.

It was true. HSAIS loved its secrets.

"You're right," she sighed, realising that it would seriously harm their efficiency as a unit if she'd let one decision, even if it had been a very extreme one in her mind, rule her opinion of the general from here on out. Out of the people involved with the entire 'Reaper' mess, he had been the one who had been most honest with her. That had to count for something, right? "Anything else I should've been told earlier?"

In an unspoken reply, the request to change to a closed-off channel appeared on her HUD. After a moment of consideration, Emily accepted, the feeling that she wasn't going to like this either surfacing in the process.

"I'm listening," she said, confirming that the channel was now open.

"In addition to the intel sent by your operatives, I requested a reconnaissance report of a TNI operative stationed on Noveria. According to his statement, at least three asari that belonged to Councilor T'Soni's staff and went missing right around the same time as her have arrived in the port over the span of the last week."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that in addition to extracting your operatives, we might be able to find a solid lead on where the Councilor was taken."

"Why tell me this over a private channel?" Shepard asked.

"Discretion. I didn't expect you to bring along Doctor T'Soni and wanted to warn you of what might happen. For all her usefulness, I don't know how she will react to fighting people that had a hand in raising her."

In addition to the prospect of that happening stinging a bit more than Emily had expected it would considering she had never met those people, it was also a very good point. Fighting geth and alien plant monsters was one thing, being squared against people you knew personally was something else entirely. Even she couldn't picture how hard that would be.

"Understood," Emily replied inaudible to the rest of her team who were calmly sitting in the descending Kodiak, occupied with themselves. "What's our plan for that?"

"While my team knows, I suggest that you keep it to yourself and deal with the situation as it unfolds. But it's still your mission and your call. If you want to tell her, I won't stand in your way."

Maybe that had been the reason why he had hijacked her command on Feros? Had he considered everything up to now 'his mission'?

She'd probably never know unless she asked.

There was a time and a place for everything.

"I appreciate the heads-up," the human Spectre finally said before switching back to the open squad channel.

Right now wasn't the time to ask something that would risk interference with her current operation.

"Everything alright, Commander?" Alenko asked not a moment later from his seat across from her. "You looked out of it for a couple of moments back there."

How closely had he been watching her to notice that?

"No I'm fine. I was just going over our objective again, Alenko," she quickly lied while glancing at the calm asari sitting to her left who seemed to be captivated by the Kodiak that was carrying the specifically requested Mako and flying parallel to their own shuttle for one reason or another. Although not the usual means of transportation, the fact that they might have to make a fast get away had lowered the possibility of the Normandy and Parnack docking in the port themselves to zero.

"Okay," the lieutenant nodded before briefly glancing to his left himself and looking at the turian detective next to him who in turn was focused on something on his omni-tool, the way it was mirrored and the strange lack of a translation, which usually should've been provided by her helmet for most of the mainstream turian languages, making it impossible for Shepard to read what it was. As she continued to observe the squad, taking note of Williams going over the third check of her equipment ever since they had boarded the Kodiak and Wrex idly inspecting the large krogan shotgun he seemed to carry no matter where they went, another request for a private channel popped up in her field of view. This time originating from Alenko's omni-tool.

There sure were a lot of people who wanted to talk to her privately all of the sudden.

Accepting the request the same way she had accepted the one sent by General Arterius just minutes earlier, Emily suspected that the biotic had probably picked up on her private chat and wanted to know what was going. If that was the case, she'd oblige. As her second-in-command on the ground, he should know.

"What is it, Alenko?" she asked after the channel had been opened.

"There's something you should know about Vakarian, something that happened while you were out," the lieutenant began quickly, knocking her expectations out of the park in his first sentence.

"Is this about you not trusting him?" she recalled, which wasn't that much of a feat because in addition to only having had that talk one week ago, it wasn't every day one member of her team suspected another of spying on them for their enemy.

"Yes," the lieutenant visibly nodded in a lack of subtlety and in turn causing the turian to look at him for a few moments, clueing him off on the fact that this wasn't how one had a covert chat. Turning his head to the screen the asari was looking at to avoid making another mistake like that, Alenko went on. "You know how he kept an eye on you from the moment you hit the medbay after Feros? If Chakwas hadn't kicked him out to get some sleep, I don't think he would've left at all."

"No, I didn't know that," Shepard said as she looked at the turian. Was it just her or did the detective seem to make a habit of sitting next to hospital beds? First the quarian, now her. She was starting to see a pattern here. "What's bothering you about it?"

"Just like before I think that he was doing it because he's reporting these things back to someone. Telling them that you're out for the time being."

"How come?" the N7 asked. Sure, it was kind of weird. But maybe it was just concern for his allies?

"He asked Chakwas over and over again if you and T'Soni would wake up anytime soon and kept checking your vitals with his own omni while she was out."

"Maybe he was just worried?" Emily pointed out her previous thought while silently wondering how Alenko had observed all of this without hanging around the medbay the entire time himself.

"Worried enough to type this up?" Alenko asked before sending her a data package. "Make sure your omni is on private before you open it."

After doing as she was told, Emily opened the file and began reading through a chopped-up text describing how '-llowing the operation on Feros and the discovery of a derelict separatist vessel, Agent Shepard has been rendered unconscious and unresponsive while possibly being compromised following an encounter with a hostile alien life fo-'. "How'd you get this, Alenko?" she asked after making it through the paragraph.

"You could say I'm something of a tech-guy," the lieutenant replied. "I made a translator VI try and find a backdoor into his omni-tool. I didn't expect it to work but when it did, I made it keep track of what he was writing and had it made copies of it. This is what I got before his omni-tool closed the back-door and blamed an extranet spam-bot for the extra data usage."

"It's definitely a report, alright," Shepard observed quietly before closing the text again, feeling slightly uneasy knowing that her heart had missed several beats at one point, making her clinically dead for a few seconds. If she had to take a guess, that had been the moment she had been burned to death during the mindmeld.

"Which raises the question who he's talking to."

"Maybe it's just his superiors, Alenko. He's still working for C-SEC. They probably will want to hear what he's doing."

"C-SEC would just get an edited version of the reports you sent to the Council," the biotic was quick to point out. "So either he's under orders to make sure they get an unfiltered version of what we're doing."

"Or there's a third party that put him up to it," Shepard finished the lieutenant's suspicion the same moment the white surface of Noveria became visible through the clouds, appearing as an infinite land of snowy mountain tops and deep, icey ravines.

As she looked at the surface to avoid making eye-contact with the biotic, the commander got the feeling that what had started out as a speculation on Lieutenant Alenko's part was quickly turning into a logical assumption. While she wasn't ready to cry mole just yet, the first possibility that C-SEC wanted an unfiltered version of what was going on was something she couldn't dismiss completely.

It was a well known secret that C-SEC and Spectres didn't get along.

At all.

One though the others were above-the-law risk factors who were just as likely to kill innocent people as they were to get the job done and the other looked down on the Citadel's police force as a bunch of overpaid security guards who barely managed to do their jobs despite the help of what was without doubt the elite of the Council. To think that a superior of Vakarian or the turian himself didn't trust her, a newly declared Spectre of a species that hadn't even been a part of the galactic community for as long as either of them had been alive, to do their job of finding Councilor T'Soni? That wasn't that much of a stretch. In fact, it sounded all to realistic.

"You were right to keep an eye on him, Alenko," Shepard finally admitted after thinking back to her earlier conversation with Vakarian and trying to decide if it had been some kind of test or if he wasn't working for C-SEC at all but rather for the Blackwatch and only antagonized them to put her off from the very suspicious fact that the first mission he had joined them on had incidentally also been the one where they had run into General Arterius and his team. "But don't let it show yet. You and I will handle this once we're off Noveria, okay?"

They just had to.

"Yes, Ma'am," Alenko replied before shutting down the private channel and sending both her and himself back to the squad-internal network in time for the pilot to announce that they were closing in on Port Hanshan and that colonial authorities would already waiting for them, their turian allies and the Mako they were bringing with them.

"Alright everyone, listen up," Shepard spoke over the channel shared between her own team and the turian one as the Kodiak slowly flew into the sheltered interior of the docking bay, their designated rally point. "Once we're out of the shuttles, I want you to stick with me. Whatever provocations local forces throw at us, just let it go. Our aim here is to have as low of a profile as possible. That won't work if we get into a fight," she instructed while looking at what she considered to be the biggest liability in that case, Wrex. While she didn't see how anyone could be stupid enough to pick a fight with him, she worried that he might've gotten into trouble on Noveria before and that the trouble would find their way back to them now. "If this goes as planned, we just pick up our people and figure out why they wanted us to bring the Mako before being out of here," as the words left her mouth, she realised that by phrasing it that way she had basically invited the universe to mess up things up.

Rookie mistake.

She of all people really should've known better.

If one thing had become increasingly clear during the last two weeks it was that she had turned into a magnet for disaster. She had gone to Eden Prime for a simple pick-up and had not only ended up in a geth invasion but also on the bad end of a prothean beacon. On Therum a simple pick-up had turned into a shoot-out with krogan mercenaries and geth which had then been followed by the revelation that their galaxy was basically at the bring of all-out war with genocidal monsters. And finally on Feros a quick trip to investigate a distress signal had led to her encountering a new, invasive plant species and finding out the hard way that translating a prothean message may end you up in a two day coma. Come to think of it, Noveria would've probably had something nasty in store one way or another. It just would've been typical for the way this year had been going. Either way, it was late to think about that now that the shuttle doors were opening to reveal the displeased face of an older asian woman clad in a set of armor that clearly showcased her allegiance to one of Noveria's private security forces.

"Well I'll be damned. Commander Shepard, the hero of Elysium, stepping onto my dock?" she asked as Emily left the shuttle. "Bringing turian company nonetheless?" she whistled as more of her guards, the markings on their armor identifying them as ERCS contractors, one of the few mercenary groups that was allowed to operate out of Council Space alongside the likes of the Final Wave. "Now that's just a political disaster waiting to happen. The way I see it, you've got about twenty seconds to explain to me why the HSA is bringing tanks to a planet they aren't even supposed to be on before I have you all disarmed and detained." Throwing a look back to where her team and Blackwatch were standing and probably doing their best not to reach for their own weapons, Shepard counted on what General Arterius had told her.

"I'm not here on HSA business," the N7 explained while pulling up the newest addition to her omni-tool, the stylized symbol of the Spectres and her unique personal identification it carried with it appearing from it as a result. "I'm here on Council business."

"Verify it, Relan. Make sure this isn't Arcturus trying to pull a fast one," the mercenary captain instructed after a couple of seconds of stunned silence, her phrasing making Shepard wonder what exactly the HSA had done to alienate her like this. Following her order, a salarian stepped forward and ran his own omni-tool over the symbol, thin orange scanner threads touching the projection in a visualisation of the scanning process.

"Real, Ma'am," he muttered, looking at his own readings and then back to Shepard. "Looks like humanity secretly inducted a second Spectre."

After she had mustered Emily from head to toe, looked to her salarian subordiante, the Spectre insignia and the subordinate again, and then finally inspected the company the N7 had with her, the ERCS captain let out a long drawn sigh before waving to the rest of her mercenaries. "Weapons down, people. The Spectre and her friends are can stay," she ordered before meeting Shepard's eye. "For now."

"Thanks," she replied cautiously.

"Don't thank me yet, Agent Shepard," the captain offered with disdain as she walked away and signaled for her fellow contractors to fall in line. "Stick around long enough and you'll find that people on Noveria don't like the Council or its blood hounds and aren't scared to show it either."

Swallowing down the reply that she wasn't planning to stay long because it would've just further tempted the universe to prove her wrong, Emily watched the ERCS team stroll back to the guard post they had come from, aware that just because she had walked away for now didn't mean that the captain wouldn't be keeping an eye on them or that her appearance here wouldn't sent ripples across Noveria, the Attican Traverse and soon enough human space.

"That went better than expected, right?" Wrex offered, breaking the silence of the group.

"We were meant to keep a low profile," Vakarian pointed out in return. "Running into a bunch of mercs who will sent word up to their bosses is the polar opposite of a low profile."

"Well. At least there wasn't a gunfight."

"Yet," Shepard figured with a frown as the sound of heavy tires hitting the vehicle entrance below the dock itself marked the Mako being dropped from the Kodiak behind them exactly where it had been requested. "They wouldn't have asked for an IFV if they didn't expect a fight."

"Speaking of them," the turian detective injected. "When exactly do your agents plan on showing up?"

"I take it you haven't worked with intelligence operatives yet, Palavani?" the Blackwatch lieutenant said in return as she separated herself from the rest of her team.

"No. C-SEC usually tries to catch them, not help them. What's your point, Lieutenant?"

"Spies usually don't set rendezvous into the future. If they wanted us to be here," the other turian began as Shepard spotted a regrettably familiar man approaching them from an unassuming weapon store built into the super structure of the port, following the steps of an unfamiliar woman. "It's because they've been waiting for us," the Blackwatch operative finished, right as Shepard sighed.

Out of all the HSAIS operatives, from all the divisions of the agency, he had to be one of them?

Why was she even surprised anymore? This was just typical of what her life had turned into these past few weeks.

As he approached them, it became clear that he remembered her just as much as she remembered him.

How couldn't he?

Ignoring that their last meeting hadn't occurred that long ago, it had been very, very telling. Between threatening a captive with death at the hands of a krogan, telling her to ignore an attack on a clinic and getting a quarian girl shot for the sake of his 'mission', the impression the specialist had left had been a pretty bad one.

Shaking his head as if to tell her 'not here, not now', Emily wasn't sure if he had managed to tell what she had been thinking based only on her body language or simply had had similar thoughts himself from the moment he had seen her.

"Normandy and company?" the brunette woman greeted as she threw a look at the ERCS guard post, making the N7 think that they would probably be on the safe side of things if they got out quickly.

"Yes."

"Yo-yo and Magic," she intrudced herself and presumably her partner, by their code names of course, and finally gave Shepard a name to put to the specialist's face. "The Mako's ready?" she asked while the turian detective behind her shifted in silence, likely for the same reasons Emily wasn't entirely at ease right now herself.

"It is," she replied as she mustered 'Magic' and wondered where the subtle but fresh impression of turian talon marks on the right side of his chin had come from.

"Good, we'll need it," she nodded before turning to the Blackwatch team. "General Arterius?" she asked more quietly.

"Yes?"

"I was told you had something for us."

"The TNI intelligence?" the turian asked, bringing up the subject that as of now Shepard hadn't told her team about.

"Exactly," Yo-yo nodded. "It's true then? They're here?"

"As far as we can tell, they are," Arterius nodded.

"Who are they?" Alenko injected.

"Not here," the other Section 13 agent threw in before pointing at the Mako. "Three in the front, rest in the back?" this time he was talking to her.

"Not if Wrex is coming along," Emily replied quickly, suppressing the angry feeling that had recently made itself known every time she wasn't being told something in the knowledge that the 'not here' was directed at everyone but them this time. As the specialist quickly glanced at Liara and then back to her, he raised an eyebrow, likely because of the same reasons the general had been cautious about telling her about the TNI information. "Unless he got soft since last time, we'll need Wrex," he replied dryly before rushing down the flight of stairs and heading to were the Mako had been dropped. "Is there another way to do this? One where we can bring everyone?"

"My team can follow in our shuttle. That should free up the Mako," the turian officer replied.

"If we're right, the air might not be clear where we're going, General," Magic offered.

"Then you'll just have make it clear, Specialist."

After looking at her team and then his own partner, the man gave his reply and rating of her team at the same time. "That won't be an issue, Sir. We'll clear the air for you."

"We?" Emily threw in as she watched him undo the backdoor of the Mako.

"Yes. We. We're coming along, obviously," Magic said with a shrug.

"You're not even wearing armor," she pointed out as she watched the specialist walk to the rental snow truck parked next to their Mako and retrieve a large case out of its trunk.

"Yet," he offered as he opened the box to reveal his gear.

So that had been the deal with the reserved parking spot for the Mako.

" about you?" Emily continued on the same track while looking at Yo-yo. "Where's your gear?"

"Long story short, it kind of burned to ash," she shrugged. "But I don't think the general will mind swinging back to the Normandy for me while you clear the air for us. Right?"

"I fought alongside one of your agents once. If all it takes to have two of you with us is a quick detour, I'll make it happen." Well, he certainly seemed to have a lot of faith in the specialist. She wasn't so sure it was justified thou-

'Stop making it personal, Emily', she suddenly told herself with a head shake.

Just like she shouldn't let his actions against the thorian define General Arterius' worth as a valuable ally, she shouldn't dismiss the two specialists because Magic happened to be unconcerned about the rights of captives, the staff of clinics and the lives of quarian girls. Cold bastard or not, if they were heading for a fight, which seemed very likely judging by the way he was attaching a Valkyrie of his own to the chest piece of his stonegrey hardsuit, he'd come in useful. He could fight. He had proven that much during the shootout at Chora's Den.

"General, I think we should head out now," Yo-yo said, shaking Emily from her thoughts. "We can go over the details once we're back in the shuttle."

"I expected nothing less, Specialist," the tall Blackwatch operative nodded.

"Magic?" she said next, sounding somewhat worried.

"Let me guess. Don't die out there?" the specialist replied as he finished the process of putting on his hardsuit at what might've been a record speed, only the fact that he was holding his helmet in his hand keeping him from being fully clad in the armor.

"Exactly."

"Don't worry. If this thing is anywhere near as tough as a Tiger Shark, I'll be just fine," the specalist replied while knocking against the armor of the IFV. "Go. I'll see you for the debriefing," he reassured her.

At this point Emily was certain that there was a story here. Something made the one specialist very reluctant to leave the other by himself. She had seen it before in some N7s. The product of an op gone to hell. It made her wonder if that op was the same reason why Magic seemed to be so much different from the two Section 13 agents she had known prior, her late father and her uncle. Not that she'd ever find out. Even now Section 13 files were sealed far beyond her own security clearance. She knew because she had tried her father's.

So much for letting go, hm?

"Can you get your team in the Mako?" Magic finally requested once the turian team and his partner had departed.

"I can do that," Emily nodded."But not before you tell us where we're actually going."

"Didn't I just say 'not here'?" he said as he leaned out of the crew compartment again.

"I'm not leading my team into the unknown."

"Alright," the specialist replied as he pulled the helmet over his head. "I get that," he went before tuning into the same channel the Normandy's ground team was located on. "We're going to an off-site research base called Peak 15. It's located north of Port Hanshan and owned by a bioengineering company called Binary Helix."

"And?" Shepard inquired.

"And that's where we're going?" the man said, already halfway back into the troop compartment of the IFV.

"To do what?" the N7 pressed on, causing the specialist to lean out again to look at her and then at Liara, making it clear that he knew what she knew and that it was somehow connected to their real mission at Peak 15.

"To find out why Saren had his geth attack the base," he lied. "Can we please get in the Mako now?"

"Yes," she nodded, recognizing the metaphorical hand he was holding out to her right now but also dreading what could happen if they ran into the friends of Liara's moth-. Into the allies of Councilor T'Soni. "Strap in everyone," Emily ordered as she climbed into the back after specialist and took a seat opposite to him. "The ride might get bumpy."

* * *

 **Twenty Five Minutes Later, Early 2156 CE, Sentry Omega**

"What about your progress with the Rachni? Have you achieved your task yet?" the turian snarled, lowering the hand that had been covering his face and shielding his eyes from the dark purple metal walls surrounding him to look at the hologram being projected from the flashlight-like head of a geth drone. Hoping that at least this part would be filled with good news and calm the anger that had been growing in both Sovereign and him now that they had learned of the fate of the Thorian on Feros and the sudden attack on Saren's financial network, which was causing increasing problems with paying the staff responsible for the creation of his new krogan army, he felt his anticipation rise.

"Entering the research station has proven troublesome," the asari councilor who he had sent to take care of the situation on Noveria spoke. "We had to cause a blackout to move in our forces. The consequences of our actions were," she pause for a moment, "problematic."

"Problematic?" the former Spectre muttered as his mandibles twitched in anger. Noveria was crucial to his purpose of continuing the cycle. The location of the Mu-Relay, the mass relay he needed to find to gain access to Ilos and the Conduit and to fix the prothean manipulation of the Citadel Relay, was hidden in the mind of the rachni queen growing in the laboratry. It was why he had sent his most valuable asset, Counilor T'Soni, who had now too fully embraced the truth of their existence and recognized their shared purpose, to secure it. If something had gone wrong-

Feeling the whispers grow into furious roars at that thought, Saren rubbed his head to ease the by now familiar pain and focused on his anger instead, paying no mind to the way his talons were drawing his own blood at the side of his face.

"Although the queen is still secure," a relieving quiet settled in place of the roaring crescendo of Sovereign's will, "it seems that Binary Helix did more than merely observe it in its natural state."

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly, subconsciously retracting his talons.

"The geth I sent to infiltrate the deeper levels of research post encountered rachni warriors prior to their destruction. It seems that Binary Helix made the queen hatch a new generation of her species. The blackout regrettably set them free to kill the staff and roam the layers between us and their queen."

"They're just mindless drones of a dead species, echoes from the past," he muttered dismissive of both the rachni and the dead Binary Helix employees. Neither had been of any worth to him anyway. "Surely they won't be problem for the geth and the commandos you brought with you."

"Surely not," the asari nodded. "However they're not the only problem."

"What else is there?" Saren snarled through his teeth as the whispers grew more intense again.

"Our scouts have reported a new group of intruders closing in on the facility."

"Have they destroyed them?"

"No."

"No?"

"It appears as if our scouts were the ones destroyed."

"These intruders," he growled. "Who are they?"

"That is the problem," the asari spoke calmly. "They are the same group we encountered on Eden Prime and Therum."

As soon as the words had left her mouth, Saren shot from his chair and rushed to the hologram. "Is the human among them?" he asked. Although she had started out as a nuisance at best, she had very quickly grown into a very real danger to his purpse and as such had to die.

"Yes," the asari nodded as his anger flared into an inferno for as long as it took her to finish her sentance. "And so is my daughter," at that an almost impossible joy rose through his entire body. With an eager but meaningless nod, he showed his agreement to what the whispers at the back of his mind were telling him. This was a fantastic opportunity. The human who had touched the beacon and the asari who could still help with his task. Both in the same place. Both ripe for taking.

"Then you will kill the human for me and bring your daughter to see the truth as you have seen it," Saren instructed as his hands formed fists. For a moment too long, the asari didn't react. "Is that clear?" he demanded to know right when her face showed the hint of discomfort, probably produced by Sovereign reinforcing his orders.

"Yes. It will be done."

* * *

 _Codex: Noveria_

 _Settled in 2136 CE by the then newly founded Noveria Develoment Corporation, a collection of high technology and private security companies, Noveria is an icy planet located deep inside the Attican Traverse that is rumored to serve as a hub for research that would lead to certain prosecution inside Council Space. Home to a series of isolated laboratory complexes and a large superstructure serving as the planet's capital, Port Hanshan, companies like Binary Helix, known for questionable genetic research, Synthetic Insight, one of the only four corporations allowed to research artifical intelligence and Elanos Risk Control Services, a private security company, use Noveria to advance research projects that would 'endanger civilian life' when conducted on more populous planets._

 _Although the exact details of what these companies do on Noveria is kept a close secret by the NDC and its security service, the involvement of the ERCS conglomerate and a leaked statement to their investor that some of their lethal and non-lethal weapons were developed in one of Noveria's rental laboratories, has led to speculation that a lot of Noveria's hidden research outposts are used to develop weapons used in Terminus wars that would violate Council law if they ever saw the light of day._

 _While unwelcoming of regular authorities, the only agency of the Citadel Council that the NDC allows to walk on its planet are the Spectres and even they are obstructed by bureaucracy wherever they go. This local isolationism from a government regularly dealing with some of the corporations that formed the NDC is often times seen as further prove that the Noveria Development Corporation regularly breaks Council law._

 _It should be noted that Noveria stands as one of the few independent worlds in immediate proximity to HSA territories that refused protection of the human government._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Happy second anniversary! Almost. I'm two days early for this being a "true" anniversary chapter but honestly? I feel like the best gift I could give the lot of you is a shorter wait.**

 **Now. I'm far earlier with this than I expected to be and I don't know why. But that doesn't matter now, does it?**

 **Two years.**

 **Damn.**

 **Time flies, really.**

 **First off, before we talk about the chapter, I'd like to thank all of you. Two years ago, when I was nervous about releasing the first chapter of Semper Vigilo (which back then was a mess, really) I never thought we'd be where we are right now. So, from the bottom of my heart, thanks for sticking around and giving me the drive to turn a messy wordpad story with a lot of mistakes into... a slightly less messy wordpad story with a more tolerable number of mistakes and an awesome following :)**

 **Here's to another two years, eh?**

 **Now, secondly, the next big thing that'll happen is the release of Semper Vigilo: Anthology's first chapter, which I hope will be sometime in mid-december. So keep an eye out for that! (The earlierst I'll mention it in SV is during the chapter released after its release, so don't expect there to be some kind of A/N only chapter for self-promotion or something like that. This is just meant to be a story)**

 **Okay.**

 **Now chapter.**

 **Noveria's starting and just like before, I plan to make it differently. The first obvious difference is of course the people taking part in it, but that won't be all. I don't want to promise too much but... it might get a bit sad for some of you.**

 **The second difference will of course be the one of there "technically" being two kinds of Shepards, or rather backgrounds and moralities of Shepard, being part of the mission. How that affects some of the choices that we all faced during Noveria? Wait and see.**

 **And... that's all I have for today.**

 **For the record we're at** **520 reviews,** **801 favorites and 896 follows .**

 **I can't begin to image that.**

 **Nearly 900 people wanting to read what I write in my freetime.**

 **It's mindblowing.** **Not much else to say to that excecept well, thank you guys. Really.**

 **See you around next time.**


	60. Of Queens and Matriarchs

**Chapter 60. Of Queens and Matriarchs**

* * *

 **16\. January 2415 AD, Noveria, Surface Level of Peak 15**

"Another whelp," the bounty hunter observed as he kneeled down next to the body of the krogan and inspected the bloodied, unfuzed headplate before moving on to the next body, again removing the helmet, and staring at the now exposed face of the krogan. "And they all look the same as well. I told you, Shepard," Wrex roared as he tore of a third helmet and threw it across the room, denting the wall where it hit. "Saren's growing my people in tanks!"

Looking at the dead krogan they had just fought, that was also the conclusion the N7 was coming to. They were clones. All of the krogan that had helped guard the entrance to Peak 15, which they had reached five minutes ago and fought for ever since, were identical down to the bumps in their orange body-plates. Nothing had to be said as to why that was a very bad discovery. Fighting the geth was already difficult enough. But now that an increasing number of krogan joined them every time the Normandy went after another target meant to lead them closer to Saren, things were becoming even harder.

"Care to explain?" the specialist going by the weird codename of Magic asked as he walked up the stairs to where Wrex had rushed and she had followed as soon as the last shot had sounded, lowering his own Valkyrie as well.

"You know why Wrex joined up with us?" she asked.

"Saren took the women of his clan, right?"

"Yes. At least some of them," the N7 nodded before trying to come up with the best way to explain this. "After we first ran into one of these krogan back on Therum, Wrex told me that he suspected Saren took their clan's females to grow a krogan army for himself," looking at the numerous krogan clad in mass-produced, black, white and grey camouflaged armor and armed with cheaply-made assault rifles and shotguns, that were spread out all over the snow-covered white interior of the lab's garage, the commander sighed. "Back then it sounded plausible."

"But now it's undeniable," Wrex growled before crushing one of the other discarded helmets under his heel with a burst of purple biotic force, extinguishing the orange lights of its visor in the process. "Saren better hope he's dead before I get my hands on him," he added before stomping off.

"A krogan clone army?" the specialist murmured next to her while watching the krogan kick one of the corpses before joining Alenko and Williams in securing their immediate surroundings. "You know I have to move that up the chain of command once we're done here, no matter what the Council ordered you to do."

Turning her head to the specialist and frowning behind her onyx-black helmet, Shepard was caught of guard. "Do you think I was going to keep this to myself?" she asked carefully. She had to have caught that wrong.

"Considering you went to Therum a week ago and didn't lose a single word about the existence of a krogan clone army since then? Yes, I think it's a possibility," he countered, shattering the faint hope that they might get along after all which she had gotten after their brief talk in the port.

"Are you serious?" she replied. "I was waiting for some confirmation on Wrex's theory before I told anyone about it. That includes the Council and HSA. This isn't keeping things to myself, it's being reasonable about sensitive information and avoiding a mass-panic about something that might not exist after all."

"Debatable," the specialist shrugged before nodding to the badly damaged door up-ahead. "But not here. We can sort this out when we're done with our mission."

Alright.

She had told herself to be professional but this crossed a line. Specialist or not, she was done playing nice. As he was about to walk away, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back, which judging by the ease with which it happened, he either hadn't expected or allowed to happen.

"If you think you can just say things like that to my face and walk away like you did back on the Citadel, then you're dead wrong," she began, still having an iron grip on his arm. "Bringing Saren in and rescuing the councilor is my mission now and I won't have you of all people question my judgment or my integrity. If you have a problem with something I did or said, then you either stick around to talk it out or shut up about it. You don't get to only say your side."

"You asked me something, I gave you an answer," the specialist said before quite suddenly twisting his arm out of her hand and taking an instinctive step back. "Where's the problem?"

"You accused me of intentionally withholding information about our enemy because the Council told me to," she replied, taking a step forward and slowly getting angry. "That's the problem."

"I didn't accuse you of anything. I just said that I considered it a possibility," the man replied. "I didn't even say how probable it was."

"Why would I even do that?"

"Again, possibility and probability are two different-"

"When the two of you are done arguing in the middle of a battlefield, Doctor T'Soni found something you should see. Both of you," Vakarian injected, pulling Emily back out of the ugly fight the argument with the specialist had quickly descended into and at least making hers feel ashamed at her sudden lack of professionalism. She couldn't speak for the specialist though.

"I've been done for the last minute," the specialist shrugged nonchalant before walking towards the asari ahead of her, evidently content with leaving things as they were.

Yes. Definitely not ashamed.

Alright. Two can play that game.

"So am I now," she said, more to the detective than the specialist. "Alright, show me what you got," she added with a sigh before following Vakarian. Of course no mission of hers could go off without some kind of complication. First the beacon on Eden Prime, then the forcefield on Therum and the Thorian on Feros and now this. A specialist.

"A piece of advice?" the turian next to her said after a moment of leading her to a terminal built into the wall next to the garage's damaged main airlock. Considering that Liara was frantically studying something on her omni-tool right next to it, her interest was now peaked. Nonetheless, she also wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Please."

"Don't let him get to you," his voice flanged through his dark-blue helmet, giving it a slight synthetic tone. "I've met some guys like him back in the army. The paranoid naval intelligence type. They don't mean most of what they say personal, even if they sound like they do. It's just that they say what's on their mind. It's the way they're used to working and they won't change that just because it pisses off us regulars, " he said before offering a shrug of his own. "Or at least that's what they claim. Personally I think it's just because they like hearing themselves talk."

"I met my share of intelligence officer as well, Vakarian," Shepard replied after briefly smirking under her helmet, the thought that the turian next to her may very well be spying on them for C-SEC slipping into the back of her mind. "But this is different. I can't put my finger on it but whatever it is, it really is personal. At least to him."

"Garrus," the turian only stated his name for a reply.

"Excuse me?" she asked in return.

"I told you my family's history. Please. Drop the Vakarian and start calling me Garrus."

"Okay, Garrus," the N7 confirmed. "As I was saying, this is personal for him."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, I do. I can usually tell when people have a problem with me."

"I see," the turian said a moment later."Another piece of advice?" he asked, stopping a few meters behind Liara and the specialist who was already looking at what she had discovered, his arms folded and his back turned towards Emily.

"Yes?"

"It always takes two people to really make something personal. Whatever his problem might be, you don't have to make it yours. If you don't let it get to you, it won't be an issue, at least not with the naval intelligence type. Say what you will about them, they usually have their mind on getting the job done."

No matter how much she wanted to claim that this was all on the specialist, the turian had more than a valid point. In retrospective Emily knew she had been the escalating party in the argument and she knew that it had been because it felt personal to her. Taking to heart what Garrus had said, she frowned again behind her helmet, but this time at herself. "Besides, if there really is a problem, you can always solve it back on the Normandy. Can't walk away from you on your own ship now, can he?"

"You're right," she nodded before walking to where Liara was standing to take a look at the terminal that seemed to have drawn in both her and the Section 13 operative.

"Well? What do you have for me, Liara?" she asked when neither of the two opened their mouths. Instead of talking to her, they were looking at what was clearly a recording of the door they were standing in front of. However since it was still intact and that they weren't visible in the spot they were standing in right now, it had to be a past one.

"I hacked into door's security cameras to see what we were up against," Liara finally explained, her voice quiet and devoid of its usual enthusiasm.

Emily didn't have to be a spy to figure out why that was likely the case. Probably much like the specialist, she already had a good idea what, or rather who, the asari had discovered in the security recording. "This was taken right after the facility went dark," she said before a wave of her hand rewinded the footage until a number of asari, all clad in the same uniform black armor favoured by huntresses, could be seen marching towards the facility's entrance in a formation resembling a diamond, which was typically meant to-

"It's my mother."

\- to protect the person walking in its center, Councilor Benezia T'Soni. As she looked at the asari break through the entrance with a display of biotic force the N7 had never seen before, pushing its magnetic locks and heavy armor plating into the facilty with seeming ease, she swallowed not because of how intimidating this kind of power was but because of what it meant to one member of her ground team that she was here.

Going up against people she knew would've already been bad enough. But this? Fighting her own mother? Even if it meant risking her landing in a coma again like on Feros, Emily wasn't going to put the asari through that kind of nightmare.

"General, do you read me?" she spoke into her helmet's radio.

"Go ahead, Commander."

"Something changed," she said as the formation marched through the door in lockstep, a swarm of geth and at least a platoon of krogan trailing behind them.

"You can brief me on the ground, we're two minutes out."

"It's Councilor T'Soni, General. She's here and it doesn't look like she's a prisoner. Quite the opposite actually. It looks like she's the one leading the attack."

"If that's the case then she's been indoctrinated," seeing the asari flinch at the turian's words, Shepard felt a sickening feeling rise in her stomach before making a gut choice. "We have to consider her a hostile from here on out."

"I know," she confirmed before looking at the asari scientist. "Can you hold the shuttle when you land? I want to get Doctor T'Soni back to the Normandy as soon as possible. She doesn't have to be here anymore," that caught Liara's attention.

"Understood. I'll tell the pilo-"

"No," the asari suddenly said while shutting off her omni-tool. "I'm staying."

"Liara-" she began, only to be cut off.

"I said I'm staying," the archeologist said defiantly, drawing the attention of the rest of the squad. As her blue eyes looked at Shepard through the clear visor of her helmet, there was only one question on the N7's mind.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

While her mission was to save the asari councilor, the fact that she had been indoctrinated and would fight them would drastically alter her objective. Before she was a hostage to be rescued, but now? Now Liara's mother had turned into another Saren. A dangerous individual that had to be stopped, by any means necessary.

"She is my mother," the asari replied. "If she's here, I'm staying."

"You understand that we have to kill her if she tries to stop us?" Magic, who up to now had remained silent, injected. "If we don't, all of us are dead. When it comes down to it, it'll her or us. It has to be."

Just as she had expected, he had chosen the harshest words possible. But this time around, they simply rang true. Sure, he was being an unsensitive asshole about it, but in this case, he was right. As she watched the desperation on Liara's face grow, Emily was glad that the specialist had done exactly what Garrus had said he would, said what was on his mind. Because if she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure if she had it in her to voice that harsh reality to the asari scientist, no matter how badly it needed to be said.

"I understand that, but," the asari shook her head before looking at him instead, "but if there's even a one percent chance that I can save her, I have to stay. I have to try. You have to give me a chance to bring her back. Please."

"She's indoctrinated, Doctor. Indoctrinated people don't come back. I know you don't want to hear it but that's a fact. There's no chance to bring her back and trying to will only get you and other people killed."

Again, harsh but true.

Why was it that taking his side, which was arguably the more logical one, made her feel like a hypocrite all of the sudden?

"No," the asari muttered. "That's an assumption. You don't know for sure that they can't come back. No one does. I've been studying this process for years. I spent weeks at a time trying to understand it and there has been too little information to say for sure that she's gone," shaking her head and pacing in a circle, her hands rubbed her helmet's chin in a thinking gesture. "If I talk to her, trigger old memories, return her mind to the state she was in before the indoctrination first occurred, then I can break through to her, bring her back to who she was before all of this."

It was easy to see where that believe was coming from.

Blind desperation.

"You're right. I don't know it for sure," the specialist replied calmly, quickly looking at the destroyed door and the semi-visible, crushed remains of two security guards that had been caught in its involuntary opening, before going on. It was clear what he was worried about. "But neither do you. So for our sake, we have to work under the assumption that they don't come back."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" the asari snapped in denial. "Why do you think you can judge if my mother's beyond saving or not?"

"Because I actually saw all of those things you studied about in that lab of yours," he replied, suddenly lacking the calm tone he had prior to this moment, sounding surprisingly stressed instead. "I watched them kill one hundred and ninety six people on Akuze because someone thought like you're thinking right now." Wait. Akuze? Hadn't that been the place where an unfortunate marine company had stumbled over a pair of mating Thresher Maws during an exercise? "Indoctrination is more dangerous and more powerful than you understand. It's not hypnosis, it's not a condition. It's final. Hell, considering how long Arterius held your mother captive, chances are she won't even recogni-"

"That's enough, Specialist. You made your point" Emily said when she realised that she didn't want to see how far he'd take this. Much to her surprise, the Section 13 agent stopped immediately, only glancing at the two of them for one second before marching to the door and staring into what little he could see of Peak 15's entrance.

"Liara, I still think it's best that you leave," the N7 said while placing a hand on the asari's shoulder, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

"I'm staying," the doctor replied. "And unless you make Wrex carry me out of here, that's my final decision."

Every single piece of her rational mind was telling her to do just that. But who was she to deny a daughter the chance of trying to save her mother? She had lost a parent. She knew what that was like. If she could have a one percent change of bringing her dad back, she'd do it, no matter the risk. Losing someone like that was something other people just couldn't understand, the specialist probably among them. So, despite the part of her that was screaming at her that Liara was emotionally compromized, which was most certainly a part that at least right now was thinking the same as Magic, Emily made a choice. A choice she hoped she wouldn't come to regret or at least could still regret by the end of the day. It wasn't the objective call, nor was it the logical call.

But dammit, it was the right call and that was all she'd have at the end of the day, the knowledge that she had made the right decision.

So, while looking Liara in the eyes, she radioed the turian general for a second time.

"General, you can tell the shuttle to leave. Doctor T'Soni's staying."

"Thank you," Liara offered quietly to which Emily only gave a nod.

"Understood," the turian merely replied. She wasn't sure why the turian general hadn't questioned this sudden change. Maybe he trusted the doctor's abilities, maybe he trusted Emily's own judgment. Maybe this was just him living up to the promise that this was her mission and that she was the one in charge. It didn't really matter. She was simply grateful for it. "We touched down a few moments ago and are making our way to the center of the surface layer. According to the plans one of your specialist pulled from the NDC's servers, there should be a tram station there that connects the other research stations to this one."

"Leading to?"

"The hot lab."

"Where they were doing what?"

"That part sadly wasn't included in the blue prints, Commander," the other specialist herself explained over the radio in a friendly voice. "Turns out part of the contract between the NDC and the people using their labs is confidentiality. They got no idea what Binary Helix is doing here. They just know how the building they built looked like when they rented it out."

"I see," she replied. "We'll hurry up and head for the tram station as well then."

"No need to hustle, Commander. The tram's the only way to move through the facility and the way we came in are the only ways out. Whoever's still in Peak 15, they aren't getting out. Not anymore."

"Meaning we can take out time?"

"Exactly. I'll see you at the tram."

Why was she so much more pleasant than her companion?

Pushing the thought back into her head and motioning for her squad to rally up and move into the facility, she stepped over the broken doors and passed Magic, who fell in line without a single complaint, proving Garrus' assesment of him at least partially right. He seemed to have his head in the game.

As they headed through the facility's surface layer to reach the tram station, Emily realised that the mixture of asari, krogan and geth forces had gone room through room. As far as she could tell from what little remained standing of the facility's interior, they had broken into every lab, every living quarter and even the social room and killed all Binary Helix scientists, security guards and staff members they could find before systematically searching every inch of every room.

"What do you think they were looking for?" Alenko wondered as they cleared another broken door and found yet another site of the massacre that had unfolded inside the facility, a larger laboratory located right next to the tram station.

"Next question. Did they find it?" Wrex added to the biotic's inquiry while stepping over the body of a dead salarian clad in white and red formal wear. "Because if they didn't this was a huge waste of ammunition," when the krogan paused, Shepard turned around to see what had silenced him so suddenly.

"What are you doing, Wrex?" she asked cautiously as she watched him lean over a terrarium built into a larger desk filled with dissection equipment and take out his knife.

"I don't believe it," the krogan said in a way that was far too similar to the time he had told her about his theory regarding the fate of his clan's females. "Why in the void would anyone do this?"

"Do what, Gunnery Sereant?" she asked Williams who was already standing next to the bounty hunter and simply watching him try to pry open the reinforced glass ceiling.

"I don't know Ma'am. Never seen those things in my life," the NCO replied before Emily reached the terrarium and looked at the small, roughly football sized eggs stored inside.

"Which you can thank my people for," the krogan growled as his knife only managed to scratch the safety glass, prompting him to smash a biotically fueled fist onto the glass which did produce a small crack in its surface.

"I don't get it, what's going on?" Alenko, the third person to decide and check in on what was going on. "Jesus, are those-"

"By the goddess, rachni eggs?" she heard Liara mutter from behind them.

"Did you just say rachni?" the N7 wondered. "I thought they went extinct?" Actually she didn't just think it, she was sure that they were extinct. Ordering the genocide of an entire species was one of the Council's darkest moment in history but as far as every source told her people and the other species who hadn't been around back then like the turians or the drell, it had been the only way. Every attempt at negotiating or even establishing a working method of communication with the insectoid civilization and ending the war, or even finding out why it had started in the first place, had proved impossible. In a galaxy full of extraterrestrial life, they had simply been too alien.

Or too troublesome if a minority of people was to be believed.

"They didn't go extinct," Wrex said before smashing the glass again, causing everyone who had gathered around him to take a cautious step back. "We hunted them down to the last. My ancestors dragged nukes into their nests and burned them to ashes. For a century we cleaned up every little infestation of rachni until not a single one of those beasts was left. It was the golden age of the krogan," although Emily kept it to herself, she couldn't claim that committing a genocide of unparalleled scale should be considered a 'golden age'.

"Except the one who made these, evidently," Garrus offered, drawing a snarl out of the krogan in the process. "Is this why Saren came here? To add the rachni to his army?" he asked her.

"I wouldn't put it past him," she murmured while looking at Wrex again try his large knife on the glass, dead-set on getting to those eggs. Was this really what the rogue Spectre had been doing all this time? Assembling an army of every potentially galaxy-ending threat for his reaper masters? The geth, the krogan, the rachni, if the reapers needed an army to do to them what they had already done to the protheans, Saren was doing a good job at recruiting it from the worst of the worst. "General Arterius, we've got-"

"Rachni?" the flanging voice finished for her.

"Yes."

"It's the same over here. I don't know how but Binary Helix managed to revive their kind. The entire lab I'm standing in was made to breed rachni larvae" the general said, a dampened, unknown screetching sound audible in the background of his radiofeed. "We can't let any of them leave Peak 15."

"So how do we contain them?" Shepard asked, still trying to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why the human-owned company had thought this was a good idea and how they had even gotten their hands on living rachni.

"We don't contain them, we kill them. Down to the last worker."

What?

"Come again?"

"According to the blueprints, the facility can neutron purge itself completely in case some disease or bioweapon is accidental unleashed. If the other layers are anything like this one, activating that function just became our main priority. No matter what happens here today, every rachni in this station has to be wiped out."

There it was again, that complete willingness to kill an entire species.

"General, you're talking about wiping out an entire race here," Shepard. "I mean I know the history books like everyone else but are you sure that this is the way to go?"

"They were exterminated for a reason, Commander. I don't care if it's your orders or mine that activate the neuron purge but it will happen. The rachni die today. For good this time."

Maybe one had to be around to get why this was the only option? Then again the turians hadn't actually been around for the Rachni Wars either. They had missed that conflict by seven centuries, idly expanding over their part of the galaxy and putting down the occasional separatist uprising aiming to spark another Unification War while being blissfully unaware of the billions of people dying a few mass relays outside of their territory in the biggest war the galaxy had seen up to then.

"Finally a turian idea I can get behind," Wrex grunted before a final smash against the terrarium proved unsuccessful, bringing Shepard to the morbid conclusion that Binary Helix had at least taken as many safety procussions as possible when coming up with the plan to bring the rachni back from the grave. "Let's go and kill some rachni," he added with a chuckle before retreating from the damaged but intact terrarium and moving to the large door that would lead them to the tram.

"What are we gonna do Ma'am?" Williams asked after a moment, probably equally stunned.

"Focus on the reason we came first," she replied quickly before radioing the general again." General Arterius," she began.

"As I said, the purge is happening, one way or another."

"Not before we have the Councilor."

"Commander," he began, only for her to shoot him down.

"You said this was my mission," the N7 said before looking at Liara. "And that mission is to recover Councilor T'Soni," in what way remained to be seen, "until she's save, I'm not going to let you purge this facility. You heard what the specialist said, as long as we have the tram station under control, no one's going anywhere. First we save the Councilor, then we can take care of the rachni. That's the order of our priorities," she knew what this sounded like but she certainly didn't plan to commit genocide either. Waiting for as long as it took the turian to reply, Emily hoped that the answer wouldn't be a no because frankly, if the Blackwatch officer made up his mind to neutron purge the facility, there was nothing she could do. She wasn't going to use force to stop him. They were allies. So this had to work, she had to convince him. "Understood?" she finally asked, biting her lip in the process. It was a high-stakes gamble and relied solely on the general respecting her command like she had respected his command.

"Understood," he replied in the almost mechanical fashion she had heard some turians speak in when receiving orders they weren't at all pleased with. Although far from the ideal solution, it at least bought her some time to come up with a solution to the fact that the general, his honorguard and at least one member of her squad, she didn't want to ask or speculate about what Liara or Garrus were thinking in that regard right now, were set on committing genocide.

"Let's get to that tram," she said, producing a nod from the NCO.

* * *

 **Ten Minutes Later, Central Tram Station of Peak 15**

"So, what exactly happened to it not being a problem?" Yo-yo asked as she leaned next to the spot on the tram's railing he had chosen for himself, away from the team he had arrived with.

"Whatever gave you that idea that there was a problem?" Morneau asked with faked innocence as he looked down the ravine the mountain-tram was taking them across to reach the next part of the Peak 15 facility. Was this what the Alps looked like? He had only ever seen their summits from the edges of the larger ARA metropolis before leaving for Terra Nova.

"Come on, I spent more than enough time with you to know when something's up," the specialist sighed. "So do us both a favour and spill it."

"You're really sure about this, hmm?" he said, looking away from the snowy landscape and at his partner.

"Yes," the specialist nodded. "Also, the commander's been staring daggers into your back since you got on this tram. So something obviously happened. Only question is, what?"

"Have I ever mentioned that I dislike it when you use your training on me?"

"It's also your training."

"Still a valid point."

"Stop stalling, start talking."

"Fine," he sighed. "All I said was that I think there's a chance the council ordered her to keep something from the HSA. Guess she took it the wrong way," that really had been his intention. To just say what was on his mind.

"Keep what from the HSA?"

"That Arterius is growing a krogan clone army."

"Oh."

"Really? Just oh?"

"Can't do anything about right now, can we?" Yo-yo countered while leaning against the railing herself and looking at a distant mountain. Or at least that's where he assumed she was looking, the tainted glass of her visor made it hard to tell. "Besides, it's not the strangest thing I've ever heard this year."

"Guess it's not," he replied while following what he assumed was her gaze to look at the perfectly snowy mountain top himself. They had just seen the rachni come back to life and the guy they were chasing was trying to bring about a galactic cataclysm. Cloning a couple of krogan didn't really sound so special compared to that.

"Ever thought you might've put it the wrong way?" Yo-yo offered while leaning on the railing herself.

Of course he had considered that. But that still didn't change that he wasn't completely responsible for the way that argument had gone down. At least not as far as he was concerned.

"Maybe," he half-way admitted before chuckling a fake chuckle. "Satisfied? There was a problem. It's over now."

"Not yet, actually."

"Really?"

"That's not all that happened, is it?"

Sighing and silently cursing the fact that she seemed to be so good at reading him, Morneau pushed himself away from the railing and looked at the doctor. "Tried to talk her out of going after her mother."

"Didn't go so well?"

"You could say that," he replied, the way Yo-yo turned his head to him making it clear that he had to go into more detail. "Because we're talking about her mom here, the doctor came to the dangerous conclusion that she can just try and talk someone out of being indoctrinated."

"And you didn't like that?"

In this case, not saying anything was his answer. Only a very small number of people knew what had happened to him and Alec on Akuze, how there hadn't been any Thresher Maws. Specialist Rachel Young was one of them.

"Of course you didn't," sighing herself and looking away from the mountains to study him, Yo-yo continued what he knew to be an assessment of whether or not he was still fit to do his job. "What did you do?"

"I tried talking her out of it. Obviously." he answered before honestly reflecting on the other argument. "Said something about there being a chance that her mother wasn't going to recognize her anymore along the way."

"Hmm."

"Just hmm?"

"I mean you're not wrong," Yo-yo shrugged. "You're a dick about it. But you're not wrong. As far as we know, indoctrination can't be reversed."

"And trying on an asari matriarch," he began.

"Will get us killed. Right," Yo-yo finished. "Can I ask you something?"

"You're already half-way through the interrogation, aren't you?"

"Is this because of Alec's daughter as well?"

He had expected the question. It was the obvious conclusion. But somehow it still took him by complete surprise.

"Honestly?"

"Please."

"I don't know."

"Something's making you lose your cool around her, Morneau. If it's guilt, you have to fix it asap. Otherwise it's gonna mess you up, badly."

"Guilt you say," Morneau repeated, the words of Director Rei coming to his mind again. If this was his way of trying to repay a dead man by looking out for someone he left behind, he was doing a shit job at it. He had probably alienated her beyond recovery already. Then again, he was convinced that he wasn't trying to do that so it didn't really matter, right? Either way, admitting that he felt like he owned Alec a debt he could never pay back would be admitting that what had happened had left an impact on him and that Akuze had changed who he was despite his best attempts to put it in a box. And that was something he definitely didn't want to do.

"Well it's either guilt," Yo-yo offered, "Or you're just being an asshole for the sake of being an asshole. But considering the timing, I think it's the former."

"Like I said-"

"You don't know."

"Exactly."

"Then it's about time you figure it out," as the tram got closer to their destination and the white landscape was exchanged for the metallic dark-blue of this part of the research lab, Morneau continued to listen. "When this is over, you're gonna sit down with her and decide if the universe just gave you opposing personalities or if you can't look at her without being back on Akuze again and feeling the stress all over again."

"And what if it is?" he wondered before joining the rest of the group at the door of the tram, his rifle at the ready.

"Then we'll have to figure something out."

"I was afraid you'd say that," the specialist replied right as the doors came apart to reveal what had happened in this part of the laboratory.

Damn.

"Is that what I think it is, Wrex?" the turian detective askef.

"Yes, it's one of their soldiers," the bounty hunter simply grunted before stomping off of the tram and into the hot labs of Peak 15.

Lying in front of the entrance and blocking off a portion of the dark-blue tubular corridor they were now standing in was a large creature. It was surrounded by three destroyed geth platforms and still connected to the krogan clone slumped against the wall of the corridor, which it had impaled with one of its long and evidently very sharp tentacles. If he just went by his own impression and ignored the rest, it's outer appearance reminded the specialist of a mixture between a lobster and a bug. The red carapace covering most of its body was riddled with bullet-holes and a chunk of its head was missing, probably thanks to a shot fired from the now damaged shotgun still stuck in its four-pronged, mangled jaw. Furthermore one of its legs had been blown off, possibly by a grenade.

All in all, it gave the impression that the creature had gone down fighting and that even one of them was incredibly dangerous, which naturally was a huge problem for them. He wasn't naive enough to think that Binary Helix only would've brought one of these rachni back, he knew they'd run into more of them on their way to taking out the indoctrinated councilor. If she was still alive that is. Powerful biotic or not, if there were enough of these, she'd be in a world of trouble. So if luck wasn't on their side, they might fight their way across Peak 15 while looking for the councilor, lose a couple members of their team to these monsters along the way, and finally find her and her followers dead.

Knowing the way things usually went for him, Morneau was starting to consider that possibility very likely.

"I think this speaks for itself, Commander," General Arterius muttered. Kicking the corpse of the rachni after leveling his rifle at its head, he only moved away from the body and down the corridor after Wrex when no reaction came from it. Although he didn't say anything else, Morneau could tell that the Blackwatch officer was set on triggering the neutron purge and that nothing was going to change that. He wasn't sure how to feel about that just yet. While the past had taught him that he crossed lines he said he'd never cross all the time, he liked to believe that genocide really was one of the things he wasn't going to have any part in. Realising that he had sounded far more skeptical about that last part than he would've liked to, Morneau shook his head and climbed past the rachni corpse, waiting for the N7 to give an answer to the general all the way through the corridor.

It never came.

Continuing through the hot labs in what little flickering light the corridors still gave them, Morneau found himself at the end of the formation and looking at the backs of everyone else. Since he trusted the rest of the unit to have the visual part covered, he decided to focus on what he could hear rather than what he could see. While blending out the noises five humans, five turians, a krogan and an asari made when moving in a closed-in space was difficult, it wasn't impossible. At least not entirely. As the steps of armored feet faded into the background, he noticed something else. Something that had been there the entire time. A silent but sharp sound that sounded almost like something was walking above them, following them ever since they had entered the hot labs.

Tilting his head back to look up at the dark-blue ceiling covers, the specialist put a hand on the shoulder of the marine walking in front of him, squeezing it just hard enough for her to stop.

"What is i-"

Hushing her with a gesture every human would understand, Morneau pointed upwards, right above his head, before nodding forward. Quickly catching on to what he meant, the marine repeated the gesture right until the entire formation came to a halt, finally allowing the sharp sound of dozens of insectoid legs rattling through the air vent above them to be heard clearly.

Great.

As he inspected the material of the corridor, coming to the same conclusion as everyone else, Morneau lowered his rifle at the realisation that shooting inside of here was an absolutely terrible idea.

"Where do we go from here?" Lieutenant Alenko finally asked through the squad-intercom, interrupting the noise of the seemingly endless stream of aliens moving above them.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, Early 2156 CE**

It was a decent question.

Where did they go from here now that it was clear that a stream of dozens of rachni was moving the way they were going?

Going back was not an option. There was nothing for them the way they had come.

Up, down and sideways weren't options either. The corridor was closed off in those directions by the fortified walls of the hot labs, which had clearly been built to contain things far more destructive than them.

Hence the only way they could go was forward. Despite the road ahead most likely leading straight to where all those rachni were going, advancing was the only choice they could make.

Yet it wasn't his choice to make or his order to give.

It was Shepard's.

Even though the rachni had been a variable no one could've expected to encounter and the commander had failed to agree with the necessity of what had to be done now that this ancient foe was a part of their mission, she was the one in charge. She gave the orders. And even though he was set on ending a two thousand year old war the krogan had evidently failed to finish for good, he'd honor her command until their mission, securing Councilor T'Soni, was done.

But not a moment longer.

"Can't really go anywhere but forward, Lieutenant," the N7 finally said, giving the krogan in front of him the all-clear to keep going and stop blocking his path. Relieved that she gave the only sensible order, the Blackwatch general followed the krogan, his honor guard, the team of the Normandy and the two specialists in his rear, the rachni above him and their target hopefully ahead. Pushing the thought that they were just one broken airvent away from being overwhelmed by the swarm of rachni into the back of his head, Desolas made his way through the corridor right until the bounty hunter in front of him was stopped by a heavy blastdoor.

"The hot lab should be right behind that thing," the human specialist who had joined them on the shuttle earlier said as the krogan member of their team banged his fist against it, producing a small but still visible dent.

"So are the rachni," he remarked before starting to get work on the door. "I can smell them." Despite being certain that doors as this would be sealed beyond airtight, Desolas stayed silent for now.

"Then we might not want to do that without a plan," the turian detective pointed out dryly as he watched the krogan try to force his way through, wincing ever so slightly when the bounty hunter's fists started to glow purple with biotic force.

His presence here really was something Desolas didn't quite understand. According to the service record he had pulled out of curiosity after their mission on Feros, Garrus Vakarian had been a distinguished member of the Reconnaissance Corps, the part of the Hierarchy's conventional forces that was sent ahead of everyone besides the cabals, the Blackwatch or the debatably sane members of the armigerian shock troops who's unique method of entering the battlefield made it impossible for anybody to be faster than them without dying upon impac. Although having clashed with his superiors on several occasions, prompting not just one but three disciplinary hearings, which was three times the turian average, someone had still placed the cipritinian-palavani on a fast-track to becoming a career soldier after his term of service would've ended. By all means, he should've already become a high-ranking member of his corps five years ago.

Yet he had ended up on the Citadel after he suddenly discarded his position in Recon in favour of requesting a permanent posting with C-SEC mere weeks before he would've been transferred back to Palaven to start his officer training.

"How about we just shoot everything with more than two legs?" the krogan grumbled. "How does that sound for a plan, Blue?"

"Not that great."

Although he knew that fighting the rachni was one of the few universal things all krogan seemed to be proud of and it had been one of the greatest forces responsible for their past unification prior to their rebellion, Desolas hadn't figured that it could be this personal for any of them. After all, not one krogan who had fought the rachni was still around to tell the tale. This one might've been old but two millennia had passed since the war. He hadn't been alive back then. Narrowing his eyes behind his visor as a biotic punch hit the blastdoor, the general recognized the danger in front of him. The krogan and his pride would get some of them killed if he didn't start to control himself.

"Wrex," the commander said, only producing a grunt. "Wrex!" she nearly shouted this time around, finally getting his attention.

"What?"

"Stop. Remember what we talked about." It was rare to see a krogan listen to orders. It was even rarer to see a krogan listen to orders coming form someone half his size. Yet for some reason, the N7 managed to stop his anger, something he was sure he wouldn't have achieved without using force. Desolas didn't know if the Spectre had some kind of leverage over the bounty hunter, but it was evident that he listened to her. It made him somewhat more controllable.

"Fine. We'll do it your way," the krogan nodded. "Not that it matters much. We have to go through here anyway," he added before moving to the sides.

"Just punching a blastdoor won't get us there, though," the N7 said before studying the door. "Explosives won't do either. This was built to last."

"So we open it the normal way," the human lieutenant offered.

"And let every rachni in there swarm us in this corridor?"

"We've got five biotics, Ma'am. They won't even get close to touching us."

"He's right, Sir," Callius injected. "If we work together, we can keep them at a distance. I figure that's why we haven't found any dead asari yet. The rachni couldn't reach them."

"So how do we do this?" the N7 asked a moment longer before turning to her lieutenant. "This isn't exactly my depth, Lieutenant."

"In pairs," he explained after catching onto her intention. Addressing Desolas' lieutenant, he stepped up to the role of their temporary leader quickly. "How strong of a biotic are you?"

"Turian average," which likely marked her as the weakest in the group. Although his people were good at many things, biotics never had been one of them. Whether it was their slightly different biology or some other factor they had yet to discover, compared to other species, with a few exceptions such as his brother, there were no strong turiab biotics. It's why cabals worked in all-biotic squads, they could make up for what they lacked in brute force by working as a unit.

"Okay. You'll be number two with Wrex, then," he said before addressing the other human biotic at the end of the formation. "Average, right?"

"Yeah. Let's go with average."

"Then you and me are the first ones in," he recognized the logic behind that decision. Much like the cabals, human biotics were also trained in units. Additionally they were trained in one centralized location by a small number of instructors. Hence the two humans probably fought nearly similar. Furthermore by choosing to go first, he did what any good officer was meant to do. Lead by example.

"Works for me," the other shrugged before making his way forward. "I take left, you take right?"

"Yes."

"And me?" the asari asked.

"You're definitely the strongest of all of us. So you'll be our reserve, handle the ones we miss or can't stop in time," he certainly was confident in the asari. Then again, Desolas had seen her in action on Feros. With a bit of training, she'd likely go down the same road her mother had gone down and become exceptionally powerful. After all, with asari biotic potential actually was something determined by heritage and not by chance.

After nodding her agreement to his plan, the human officer took his place in front of the door, purple waves already dancing over his hands in preparation. "How exactly does this thing open?" he asked, causing Desolas to search for the walls around them. Doors like these usually had a hidden emergency release, just in case they weren't meant to seal but did so anyway. Spotting a small panel to his left, he undid the lock holding it in place, dropped the panel to the floor and revealed a red switch with salarian writing on top of it which his HUD quickly but messily translated to 'Emergency Open'.

"Probably with this," he said before placing his left hand on the switch. "Whenever you're ready."

As the biotics formed up in front and the rest leveled their weapons behind them, he met the eyes of the human through his tainted visor.

"Do it," he said with a calm any turian officer would be envious off. As he pulled the switch down, Desolas was sure that the human lieutenant would make for more than just a very good second-in-command one day.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 16. January 2415 AD**

When the blastdoor vanished into the wall thanks to the emergency release, the inside of the hot lab became visible. Crawling on the walls and ceilings were dozens of small green insects that seemed to be occupied with chewing on the equipment, the walls and the wiring of the room. They were taking it apart for a reason Emily didn't have time to think about before the larger red rachni hurled up in the center of the room turned towards them in unison, screaming with open mouths and lashing the air with long combat tentacles before trying to close the six or seven meter gap between them and her team. Uncaring of the gunfire punching into their bodies from the moment they had turned, the aliens were only stopped when two waves of purple marked the beginning of Alenko's plan and sent them staggering back, forcing them to start the charge all over again and costing them two of their own in the process. As the first rachni collapsed just in front of the biotics with a gaping hole in its torso, which had most likely been produced by the shotgun one of the Blackwatch soldiers had exchanged his Phaeston for, and another dropped with several small holes in his head, a second wave of biotic energy sent by Wrex and Lieutenant Callius stopped the other rachni from getting to them just after the sharp tip of one of the tentacles barely missed the specialist next to Alenko.

"Heh. Looks like we got the attention of the small ones now," Wrex exclaimed as the purple energy disbanded around him after he had caught one of the green rachni that were now leaping at them from the ceiling with his hand and subsequently crushed it. The yellowish, clear liquid that passed for their blood spilled on his hands and he dropped what was left of its body, charging his biotic powers up again. Remembering her role in the plan, it was Liara who stepped up next, stopping the other rachni that tried to jump at them by tossing back with a purple shockwave that seemed to produce enough force for most of them to die upon hitting the wall again. Additionally the wave had the nice side effect of not only forcing the other rachni back again, but also killing several of them by setting off the residual biotic energy that had still been surrounding them from the Wrex's and Callius' push.

Asari biotics really were something else, weren't they?

The mixture of biotic powers and mass accelerator fire continued right until the last rachni dropped dead, the combined fire of the entire squad leaving it an unrecognizable mess of holes, yellow blood and red carapace pieces. As a final shotgun shot left Wrex's gun, the carnage was ended with the head of the creature exploding. With the rachni dead, she could finally take in the hot lab after ejecting the red-hot heat-sink of her Valkyrie rifle and allowing a new, fresh one to slide in its place. Although painful to maintain, she was really clad that the weapon had this feature right about. It meant that human soldiers didn't have to worry about their guns overheating and not working during fights like this one.

Kicking the glowing piece of metal away from her and watching it slide over the floor, Emily looked at her surroundings through something else than the sights of her rifle. Although devastated by the fight, it was clear that someone had gone through here before them. Between the pieces of the lab that weren't covered in dead rachni she could see the bodies of several dead scientist, which much to the dismay of her stomach seemed to have been eaten by the rachni soldiers prior to their arrival. However judging by the bullet holes in the bits and pieces of the scientist she could still see and the orderly fashion in which they all seemed to lay in one line in the center of the room, it didn't take long for her to decide that Saren's troops had entered the lab, lined them up and shot them before continuing deeper into the facility. Additionally to the dead bodies, the equipment had almost entirely been destroyed by the rachni workers. With one exception. Signaling for Alenko to make some room for her, Shepard left the entrance they had made their stand in and walked to where one terminal in front of a large glass panel had been left untouched. When she was close enough to see what was behind the terminal, she realised why.

"Holy shit," the curse slipped out of her mouth before she even registered it.

"Is that-" Williams, who had followed her, began to say only to take some time to find the right word for what she was looking at, "is that their queen?"

Situated in a reinforced glass tank was a rachni much larger than the others. It had longer tentacles, a bigger, dark purple carapace and, unlike the other ones, eight eerily glowing blue eyes that shot up to them the moment the gunnery sergeant had finished her sentence.

"Yes," Wrex nodded as he joined them, staring down the creature that instantly seemed to ready its tentacles in recognition of the krogan. "That explains where the brood came from. They didn't make their own rachni. They let her hatch them."

"Well-" she began before a series of turian curses, some of which in a language her translator didn't catch, caused her to turn around.

"Spirits, he's still alive! How is he still alive?" Lieutenant Callius exclaimed as she leveled her Phaeston at one of the dead scientists that was now standing in front of her despite his left arm having been chewed off by the rachni and the bullet hole in his head. Trained special forces officer or not, that sight would terrify anyone.

"This one," the dead salarian began to speak as his eyes rolled backwards before turning completely white,"serves as our voice," registering the movement of the queen behind her, a harrowing idea began to form in the N7's head. Was this like the Thorian all over again? "We cannot sing. Not in these low spaces," the corpse went on before turning its head to them. "Your musics are colourless."

"Doctor?" she heard the turian general ask. "Did anyone ever observe that rachni could control dead bodies?"

"The rachni were never observed while trying to communicate," the asari replied.

"Because they were too busy killing everyone," Wrex added.

"We never communicated because your way is strange. Flawed. It does not colour the air," the corpse, which was now the target of not one but three Phaestons and their turian owners, explained. "When we speak, one moves all. We are the mother. We sing for those left behind, the children you thought silenced. We are rachni."

"I know what you are. And don't you worry, you won't have to sing much longer," the krogan replied a moment later, addressing the creature in the tank and not the corpse. "I'll send you to your children soon enough," as he eyed the terminal and the large red button in its center, Shepard stepped in front of him.

"What does that button do?" she asked everyone besides Wrex. After a wave of her omni-tool, the marine who then went on to stand next to her replied.

"It's a failsafe. It'll flood the tank with acid and kill the queen."

"Ending the rachni once and for all," the turian general added as he joined, the corpse now in his back.

"The song you sing betrays your anger. You may not be in harmony with those who came before but you still seek to harm us. To make our song fade away once more, " the corpse spoke under the instructions of the queen. "Why?"

"Why?" it was Wrex's turn to speak. "Is that thing serious?"

"We remember the struggle with the colourless, the destruction it sowed on us. Yet it's symphony was sung before we hatched. Just like the children of old who's music you pushed into the silence of memory, we had neither a choice nor a part in what transpired. We slipped away before the oily shadows claimed all and composed their own music through us."

Was it trying to say that the rachni had attacked the council because they had been forced? Because it definitely sounded like that.

Also, what were the oily shadows supposed to be?

Could it be-

"What does that mean?" it was Liara's turn to ask after she had joined them. "What are you trying to say?"

"You," the rachni queen said as she looked at the asari. "You sing as the one before you did," so the councilor had also been here. "Do you desire the same?"

"No I want to know what you mean-"

"What did the other one desire?" Magic called suddenly from the other end of the room.

"The gateway to the last world of those who sang to us through touch, who tried to make our children their weapons before you."

"Gateway?" he asked. "Do you mean a mass relay?" as the corpse suddenly began to wander behind them, Emily watched the specialist turn on his feet, now focused on the body. "Show me," he instructed."

"Does this one speak for you?" the queen asked, still looking at the asari archeologist. "Or does it only seek to force its music on you." As both she and the specialist nodded towards Liara, Emily hoped that she'd give the right answer.

"Where's the gateway?" she asked after a moment. When she was done, the corpse, now the target of three turian Phaestons and the other specialist's own weapon, stumbled towards a screen, the touch of its remaining hand causing it to turn on, revealing a hooded figure surrounded by several asari in a room somewhere else in Peak 15.

"This one sang to me and my children with a colour we never heard before. It knows where the gateway is." So they hadn't come here to add rachni to the reapers' army. She wasn't sure if that was a relieve or simply meant that they didn't even need the rachni because the rest was already powerful enough.

"Can you tell us as well?" Liara asked.

"You are colourless. We cannot sing to you. Join her music, then her knowledge will become your knowledge."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emily muttered.

"I guess we'll either have to ask the councilor," Garrus began. "Or figure it out on our own."

"So the queen has nothing left to give us," Wrex continued. "Time to kill it."

"I agree. They put the acid there for a reason. I say we push the button, get the councilor and activate the neutron purge," General Arterius said as he joined the krogan. "Then we won't have to worry about the rachni ever again."

"Kill her? She's a captive," Williams pointed out. "We don't kill captives."

"She's right. The krogan went too far the last time," Liara added. "This is our chance to make amends and fix their mistake."

"Mistake? We saved your kind."

"He's right, Doctor. The krogan did what had to be done to stop the rachni. Their only mistake was missing this one."

"They committed genocide," Alenko threw in. "There's nothing right about that."

"It ended the war, didn't it?"

As the argument spiraled out of control, Shepard, who was still blocking the terminal from Wrex, noticed that the queen was now switching between looking at her and Magic who was standing halfway-across the room, still looking at the screen.

"Your music is a harmony," the corpse said while the queen moved its head. "Which song will you sing for us?"

* * *

 _Codex: The Rachni Wars (1 CE to 11 CE)_

 _In 1 CE, shortly after the introduction of a unified time-keeping and financial system at the hands of the volus, an expedition of the Citadel Council in search of new colonization grounds opened a dormant mass relay connecting to the now quarantined Rachni-Sector, a previously unexplored region of space inhabited by a race of extremely aggressive, extremely numerous insectoids that despite not yet having breached the light barrier had still managed to colonize several dozen worlds, the rachni._

 _After initial attempts at communication were met with violence and resulted in the death of the envoy and the loss of its vessel, the Council decided to fortify their end of the relay and bide their time, a strategy that worked until late 4 CE, when a massive invasion force of rachni vessels reverse-engineered from the envoy entered Council space. Starting on the salarian world of Taedria, a colony located near the rachni home cluster Ninmah, the first of several rachni incursions claimed the lives of sixteen million colonists and military personal in little more than half a year before being beaten back by a collected armada of asari, salarian, batarian and the then most recent addition to the Citadel Council, quarian warships._

 _Believing themselves victorious, the Council began to rebuilt after stationing a sizable defense fleet at the mass relay linking to the Rachni-Sector, content with not launching a counter-attack into the unknown._

 _However even before the first aid workers reached the now desolate Taedria to start with rebuilding, a second, much larger rachni brood began its incursion into Council space, tearing through the stationed fleet and ravaging across thirty six colonies over the span of six years, killing an estimated three hundred million Council denizens before finally exhausting themselves in 11 CE on the salarian agri-world of Lamei._

 _Bloodied but still alive, it was the Union's armed forces, the then biggest military in the galaxy, who had faced the brunt of the attack with roughly fifty million soldiers and sailors, professional and conscripts and Union and Dalatrass forces alike, laying down their lives to stop the rachni brood a mere three relays before they would've reached the first coreworld with more than a hundred million inhabitants._

 _Having learnt from the last incursion and the failed believe of victory, the salarians wasted no time trying to rebuilt what had been lost. Instead of hoping for peace, STG was tasked with finding a way to not only repel but stop the third incursion probes had already confirmed to be in preparation._

 _With desperation increasing and the pressure of the Inner Cabinet forcing them to take action, the research division of the Special Task Group turned away from the failed attempts at biological warfare and experimental weaponry and set their eyes on the inhabitants of a world who had failed to end their civilization despite their best, nuclear attempts. A world where even the most basic forms of prey would've outfought any rachni warrior._

 _Tuchanka._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Happy New Year guys!**

 **As at least six of you have figured out, the reason why this chapter took this long to drop is because Semper Vigilo Anthologies dropped inbetween now and the last update. I suggest you check it out if you like some back story on the universe I've created. (this sounds cocky.)**

 **So, chapter 60 is here now. Obviously ending with a cliffhanger because well, I obviously haven't done that often enough already!**

 **Other than me playing a bit with the POVs to make these canon missions a bit more interesting (I am happy to say that noveria is the last mission that'll stick close to canon for now. Vermire will be.. way different. I already droppped the first hint on how somewhere around here, whoever finds it gets a methaphorical cookie.) this is basically just the build-up to the canon confrontation with benezia and the rachni choice.**

 **Also, since Battlefleet Gothic Armada 2 is dropping soon, I decided to give the rachni wars a bit of a tyranid spin by making them several incursions, not one prolonged conflict (that's why it's called the rachni warS, right? I'm such a genuis.)**

 **Also, also, we got some build-up for another, non-canon confrontation that has to happen before Mass Effect 1 / Season 3 ends. Morneau and Shepard.**

 **Also, also, also, I just want to say that I loved the new spiderman movie. This has nothing to do with the plot, I just recommend you watch it if you get the time. It was really good.**

 **Also, also, also, also, starting in late January, I'll have three weeks of vacation. Finally. I'll try and see if I don't get the next chapter** **and the one after that** **out during that time. No promises though, I also have other stuff to do.**

 **Other than that, I don't have much to say other than the usual stuff. Let me know what you think.**

 **For the record we're at 525 reviews, 822 favorites and 916 follows.**

 **See you around next time.**


	61. Long May She Reign

**Chapter 61. Long May She Reign**

* * *

 **16\. January 2415 AD, Noveria, Peak 15 Hot Lab**

"It's a trick, Shepard. Don't listen to a word it's telling you. We let it go, there won't be anything left of Noveria by the end of next month. You don't want another Rachni War on your conscience, do you?" the krogan bounty hunter said behind him.

"If we kill her, we rob her of any chance to prove that the rachni can be different," the asari scientist reasoned in return. "Sanctioning their genocide was the worst mistake the Council ever made. She deserves a second chance. Everyone does."

"The last time they got their chance, the rachni killed billions of people. I'm not going to take that risk," General Arterius countered.

"She said they didn't have a choice," the asari retorted. "Did you even listen to a word she said?"

"I'm not going to listen to a rachni, Doctor."

"But you're not listening to me either right now. Please. Stop for a second and think about it," the asari urged. "Oily shadows that claimed all," she repeated before explaining. "Someone was using the rachni for their own goal, manipulating them. Doesn't that sound familiar to you?"

"You think they were indoctrinated," Morneau said before turning away from the screen that still displayed the councilor and her asari commandos and towards the argument that had been going on behind him for far too long already.

"Yes!" T'Soni exclaimed with relieve. "That's what made them attack the Council without a warning. They didn't have a choice in it! It was the reapers that made them do it!"

"That's good and all," as he walked over to the tank and leaned against the glass to look at the creature, the specialist asked the one question everyone else seemed to have been too distracted to ask up to now. "But why did the rachni attack us then? Either she's lying to you or she's indoctrinated." Not that it made any difference to him. The rachni weren't his mission, they were just another obstacle on the way to stopping something far worse. The only thing worth noting about that conclusion was that if it was the latter and the queen really was indoctrinated, they'd have to be on the look-out for whatever did it. Director Rei had been clear. They couldn't afford any more compromized personal.

"We couldn't sing to our children," the corpse spoke in place of the queen, who twitched her head at him, blue luminescent eyes seemingly trying to stare behind the mirrored glass of his black visor. "These low spaces-"

"Yeah, yeah. You said that already," he interrupted the corpse's rambling before turning away from the queen and back to the screen where the asari were seemingly making preparations for their own escape by getting to work on one of the thick exterior walls of Peak 15. "The way I see it, she's not going anywhere right now and even if she does find a way out, she'd be a bright red dot on the snow that's just waiting for the Normandy's guns to cap her. Let's focus on why we're here. We can deal with her when we took care of the councilor," ignoring how the previous relief vanished off of the doctor's face, Morneau knew that right now wasn't the time for sensitivity, no matter how horrible this whole situation was for the asari.

"Not if she buries underground and hatches a new brood," Wrex countered with a growl that made the specialist think he was about to really set the krogan off. "Then it'll be too late."

"For Noveria," he replied. "I looked around the place and honestly? I know I won't miss it," sure, a few of the people working here might've had decent intentions when they had come to Noveria but the majority of its inhabitants worked on or supported the progress of projects that were illegal for very good reasons. From illegal ammo mods laced with toxins meant to make the death of their target as painful as possible to weaponized diseases that made you throw up your own intestines a few hours after being infected, there was nothing that could kill someone in the nastiest way possible that wasn't being made on Noveria at any given time. If they took care of it for good, the rachni would just end up doing the decent part of the galaxy a big favour.

"That's how it starts. One planet. But when they're done here, they'll swarm into your precious Fringe and add your people to their menu."

"That's a problem we can think about after we stop Saren. Let's handle one galactic apocalypse at a time, okay?" he offered in return.

"If we let them live, they'll tear through you just like they tore through the Council. You won't stand a chance. First they'll kill you, then they'll kill everyone else and thanks to salarians, my people won't be around to stop them this time," as his red eyes narrowed, the Section 13 agent could only offer a shrug.

"Maybe. Maybe not," he said. While a part of him wanted to say that the HSA wouldn't suffer the way the Council had suffered and didn't need the krogan or anyone else to fight their wars, he couldn't know that for sure. Hence he didn't say it. Instead he pointed to the screen and said the one thing he was completely certain of. "I just know that our one way to maybe stopping the thing that killed the protheans from coming back is slipping away because we're busy contemplating genocide," Morneau realised that this might've been unfair to some members of this misfit team but right now, he couldn't care less. Time was short and he still had a job to finish. Checking his Valkyrie's heat-sink and finding the result satisfactory, he threw a look at the N7 still standing in front of the console and left with a final comment that might just get her and the others to focus on the mission again. "And losing the galaxy because of that is something I won't have on my conscience."

Not a moment later he walked to the other door of the hot labs and pryed open a panel near it to reveal a switch identical to the one that had opened the other blastdoor. Not even giving the others time to make up their mind, he pulled on it and vanished into the next corridor, his partner following behind him.

"Please tell me this is some kind of gamble to get the others to follow you," Yo-yo said as she chased after him through the dark-blue corridor.

"If that's what happens, I'll take it."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll make do with what I have."

"Fighting T'Soni on your own is a bad idea."

"I know."

"But you're still walking towards the elevator."

"We don't exactly have a lot of options here, okay?" he replied. "Either they get the clue or they don't. One way or another, I'm going down there and I'm going to make her tell me what she knows about the Harbinger."

"She'll kill you."

"She'll try."

"She's got a dozen commandos down there. Not to mention her own biotic powers. This is crazy."

"You're welcome to sit this one out," Morneau said after calling one of the two elevators, prompting the other specialist to fold her arms while he defiantly looked at the indicator above the door, pretending not to be glad to already know her answer.

"And let you be the hero? Not a chance," Yo-yo replied, forcing a hidden smirk out of Morneau.

"No heroes in our line of work, remember?"

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 16. January 2415 AD, Noveria**

Dammit.

No matter how sure she was that the moment she'd step away from the console, the queen would be molten by the acid at the hands of Wrex or the turian general, no matter how much she liked to believe that stopping a genocide was more important that fighting and killing the mother of one of her teammates, he was right. There was just no other way to look at it.

"Fall in," Emily only instructed before stepping away from the console and jogging the way the specialists had gone. The two human marines were the first to follow the order, falling in behind her as soon as she had passed them. Next Garrus caught up to her when she had reached the door of the room. Now out of earshot of the queen, the next one who joined were his fellow turians. Whether it was because the queen was already drowning in acid or because the general still intended to honor her command for this mission didn't matter to her right now. What counted was that they were almost back to full strength again. The only ones missing now were Wrex and Liara.

"Hey! Hold up!" she quickly called as she saw the doors close up ahead, causing a grey gauntlet to shoot out from inside and stop the elevator from shutting, thus allowing them to step inside.

"What about Wrex and the doc?" Magic asked, his hand still blocking the door after the last turian had joined them.

"No idea," she replied before looking at the turian general pressed against the wall to her left.

"They were still arguing when we left," he explained, prompting the specialist to remove his hand so that the doors could close.

"Guess that's what happens when you bring civilians to do a soldier's job," another one of the turians, Galviat if she recalled correctly, replied as the descend of the elevator began, causing the turian lieutenant next to him to throw a look at him. "What? You know I'm right. They didn't measure up. We'll be better off without them."

"We still could use their help, Sergeant," she said somewhat worried, leading Emily to believe that much like her, the turian lieutenant was starting to realise what they were heading into.

"They're a bounty hunter without discipline and a scientist without combat training. I don't see how that'll do us any good," Galviat replied confidently.

"They're biotics and we're going up against a squad of huntresses. That's what counts."

"We've fought worse."

"I don't think we have, Galviat," she offered before looking at the third Blackwatch soldier. "Going up against an asari matriarch? We might not walk away from this one unscathed."

"It's not about walking away, it's about winning. And that we always do in the end, Ma'am," Veltax only offered, seemingly equally confident.

"I understand that you're worried, Lieutenant," their leader finally said before placing a hand on her shoulder. "But have faith. Fighting battles like this one is what we're meant to do," the nod it produces seemed to indicate the success of the gesture.

"For the Hierarchy," she spoke.

"For the Hierarchy," Arterius repeated.

There it was. Just like Garrus had told her before Noveria, the Blackwatch operatives seemed to be set on winning, even if they all died in the process. She was a soldier, an N7 to be precise. Being ready to commit to something even if it put your life in danger was part of what she did. However there was still a fine line between risking your life and accepting your death. To her it sounded like the turians had just done the latter, which made them dangerous. To their enemy but also to themselves. If there was one thing that had been beaten into her during her training, it was that there was nothing as crucial to the success of a mission as the will to come back home. It made you cautious, made you pay attention to details, made you stay alive. What was it that her drill instructor had told them in the UWTC on Eden Prime? A dead marine wasn't useful to anyone but the enemy?

"So, I don't want to kill the mood," Garrus began, addressing the specialist. "But what's your actual plan?" It wasn't the first time he had asked that question today but just like the last time, it was justified.

"You see, I'm more of an improvisation-guy, really," he replied. Improvisation? More than likely he meant impulsive. At least that was the impression Shepard was getting. "Besides, I didn't account for you when I left."

"Meaning you didn't actually have a plan when you made us follow you," the turian detective replied before playing with the settings of his weapon, the fine blue hologram appearing at the side of his Pheaston showing that he had just applied a phasic mod to it, an action that almost everyone repeated by the people in the elevator that hadn't already done it. "Great. I'm really starting to regret ever waking up today," he said before repeating the process on his other weapons and glancing at the indicator over the door.

"So you were just going to walk down there? That was your plan?" Emily spoke up.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Do you at least know what we're walking into?" she said, frowning behind her helmet.

"Asari, geth. Maybe a couple of krogan. We'll find out when the doors open," Magic replied, causing her to glance at the indicator. She could definitely add impulsive to the growing list of his negative character traits.

"Spirits," Garrus muttered while the indicator continued to mercilessly count down in asari numerals. If her HUD was translating it correctly, they should be here any moment.

As if to prove her right, the doors of the elevator came open to reveal a large storage room crawling with small rachni that seamlessly blended in with the green storage racks stacked in neat rows all the way to the next door, in front of which she could already see a number of broken geth platforms and a single dead asari.

Intending not to give them time to swarm them, the human-turian team flooded out of the elevator and began shooting at the small creatures. As the mixture of Phaestons and Valkyrie rifles barked and exploded the rachni workers in bursts of yellowish blood, the N7 saw a panel break off of the ceiling, the armored tentacle that had pushed it away already telling her that the rachni's warriors were about to join the fight. Dropping down to one of the racks and causing it to fall over in the process, the first of the red creatures became a victim of its own aggression, being crushed between the heavy steel frame and the wall. However with its death, it had cleared the path for its brethren and not a moment later, first one then two and finally five of the larger rachni had left the hole in the wall, crawling down the rack and forcing the team to repeat the tactic they had employed earlier. Only this time around, they didn't have Wrex or Liara to back them up.

Or so it seemed.

As a biotic push of Alenko sent the rachni charging at them flying backwards, Emily afforded a glance backwards when she picked up the ping-noise announcing the opening of an elevator behind them. When the doors had opened all the way, the large krogan inside charged out and fired a shot at the rachni that had been about to lash out at Williams.

"Wrex?"

"Heh," he simply smirked before a wall of purple pushed the rachni back and crushed several of them.

"Where the hell were you?" she demanded before realising that he hadn't been the one to push the rachni back.

"Debating," the asari replied as powerful biotic energy danced around her. "I convinced him to postpone our argument in favour of more pressing matters."

Well. Better late than never. There'd be more than enough time to ask them what the hell had even taken them this long to follow her orders once they were back on the Normandy. For now she'd just be glad to be back at full strength again.

"The queen?" she asked the asari before shooting at a small green form trying to jump them from the top of one of the storage racks.

"Alive. For now," Wrex offered as a shot of his shotgun decapitated a rachni warrior that had tried to charge at him.

* * *

 **Two Minutes Later, 2156 CE, Noveria**

"I think that was the last of them," the human lieutenant observed while Desolas waited for any of the rachni to offer a final twitch, his rifle still aimed forward. When none of the corpses moved after a few more moments, he lowered the weapon and took a cautious step past the first warrior and towards the door at the other end of the storage room, his eyes now set on the dead commando up ahead. Judging by the purple stain of blood in the shape of a hand on the lock and the red hologram in front of it, she had died sealing the rachni in the same room as her.

Why that task hadn't fallen to one of the geth?

He could only assume that her indoctrinated masters had considered her just as expandable as one of the synthetic drones.

"Lieutenant, can you get us through that door?" Desolas asked, producing a 'yes' from both Shepard's and his own second in command. After the two shared a look, Callius gestured for Alenko to try his luck first. As he activated his omni-tool, the team got some time to breath. Time Desolas decided to use to consider the situation they were in.

They were about to face an asari matriarch, who was arguably among the most powerful biotics in the known galaxy. While the phasic ammunition mod he had equipped his Phaeston with had been created to fight biotic foes, it wasn't the defensive capabilities of the councilor that Desolas was worried about. It was her ability to wipe them all out with one well placed attack. Blackwatch armor might've been developed to offer the best protection turian technology could provide but there was only so much one could do to protect against powers that could tear you apart on a molecular level. One good hit and the armor would be gone and another good hit and the turian wearing it would join it. Adding to that, they wouldn't just have to worry about Councilor T'Soni either. The asari with her likely had more experience in the art of war than he would ever be able to come close to. Century-long lifespans ensured that no one could perfect their craft as much as the few asari that chose to walk the path of a huntress. Whether it was shooting, melee combat or team work. The unit they were about to face had honed those skills for longer than he had been been alive.

With odds like these, he had to count on the nature of this team to make up for the skill-gap. Sure, individually they were all less experienced than the asari commandos but as a unit, they possessed skills and talents that the monotonous commando squad, which had likely fought using the same doctrines and maneuvers for decades if not centuries, did not. Their one strength was the fact that they united a lot of backgrounds. Besides his team, which consisted of a cabal, a hastatim and an engineer who all added their unique skills to the training Blackwatch had given them, they had a former recon sniper, a krogan bounty hunter who might've lived longer than any of the asari, an N7 turned Spectre, two marines, two specialists, and, most morbidly, the daughter of the enemy commander who was a powerful biotic in her own right. Combined they might just have a broad enough pool of experience and abilities to draw from to find something that the huntresses hadn't seen before, something that would even the playing field a little.

"How many huntresses did you see on the screen before you left?" he asked the human specialist.

"Seven," the Section 13 operative replied instantly. "But I saw ten asari walk through the front door on the recording we found. One of those is dead outside, two are unaccounted for and others might've gotten in another way."

"Meaning we'll have to assume that nine of them are still inside."

"Ten with the councilor," the female specialist.

"So one for each of us," he realised. No numerical superiority for them then.

"Plus the geth and krogan that might still be between us and them," Shepard added.

"I don't think that there are many left of them, Ma'am," Williams replied. "Why would they sacrifice an asari to close to door if they still had geth or krogan clones left? Unlike the commandos, those are meant to be expandable." Although the remark caused the bounty hunter to grimace, Desolas realised that it was another reasonable explanation as to why a huntress had to sacrifice herself. "Sure, we didn't find all of the bodies but god knows what the rachni did with some of them after they killed them," as she hesitated for a moment, Desolas could already assume what was on her mind and sure enough, after she ended her pause, she voiced that possibility. "I mean they started eating the scientists as well, didn't they?"

"As horrible as it sounds, it'd also explain where the two other asari went," Lieutenant Alenko injected right before the red lock turned orange."Alright. If no one has any objections, we're good to go."

"I have one," the cipritinian stated with a raised hand.

"Let me guess, Blue. What's our plan?" Urdnot Wrex said in return, an amused 'heh' following the statement.

"No, I've come to terms with not having one this time around," he replied dryly before reaching into one of the pouches built into his armor. "What I was going to say it that we might not want to open this door like it's indestructible," holding up a magnetic breaching charge that looked exactly like the ones stored in the Parnack's armory, Desolas wondered just how he had gotten his hands on that and which quartermaster had handed it out to him. "If we're lucky it might even smash the asari waiting to gun us down."

"I mean it's not a bad idea," Veltax, his own engineer, admitted before procuring a similar charge. Giving his approval before turning to the N7, who was still in command of this mission, Shepard also seemed to agree with the plan, giving the two turians the all clear to start getting to work on turning the door into a deadly, directed projectile. When they were finished and got into position without anyone voicing a concern for possibly hitting the councilor, he noticed the pale complexion on the doctor's face. If he had to take a guess, she was only now starting to realise that at least the majority of the ground team had come to terms with the fact that her mother was an enemy and had to be treated as such.

"On your signal, Commander," he said after Veltax gave him the sign that he was ready to breach.

"Your demo-charges, your plan, your order," the N7 only replied, prompting him to give a nod.

"Blow it," he instructed before adrenaline poured through his veins, allowing him to observe the quick movement it took the engineer to arm the detonator and light its fuze in what seemed like slow motion. When the movement was done, which had likely taken less than two seconds, the door was blown inwards by the charges and without a hint of hesitation, the turian general went through the breaching point first, barely registering the injured asari stuck under the door's remains as he jumped for cover to avoid being hit by the pinpoint shot of a Prefect, a weapon that much like its user had been honed to perfection. Glancing to his left after another shot bounced off the edge of the broad, red and black window frame he had taken shelter behind, he noticed that at least Galviat and the krogan had followed in time to clear the deadly door gap, taking cover behind the frame on the room's opposite side.

After watching more rounds ricochet off from both their and his own cover, the angle at which they came from led him to believe that the shooter was somewhere above them. Checking the reflection of the glass to his right, he concluded that the second level of the room they were in, which seemed to house a number of private rooms, was where the shooter was at. Now the only thing missing was her distance. Peaking out of the corner to see the indoctrinated asari trying to free herself from the heavy door lying on top of her, which no doubt had crushed everything below her waist, he realised something else in addition to spoting the most likely position of the sniper he had been looking for behind the small crack of a barely opened door of a darkened room directly facing their point of entrance.

Personally he had never understood the commando's dislike of helmets, arguing about it with every asari officer he had ever worked with. Although it had frustrated him back then, he was glad for it now. Because now, he'd exploit it. While the krogan would be just as affected as the asari, he was just one, albeit very big, shooter. Besides, he could and probably would just blind-fire regardless of the smoke screen. Reaching for a grenade filled with a substance his visor could see through as clear as if it wasn't there, he held the canister up to Galviat, who understood his intention and produced an identical smoke grenade from a pouch of his own.

Tossing the grenades around the window frames without looking so that they wouldn't expose themselves, the canisters hit the ground somewhere up ahead and popped with a noticeable, loud sound. After giving the smokescreen five seconds to expand, the turian general spun out of his cover and leveled his Phaeston at the asari lying below the door, her injured form clearly visible thanks to his visor allowing him to see through the thick, heated cloud of chemicals. After squeezing the trigger of the Phaeston and allowing a dozen phasic rounds to shred through her barriers, shields and then finally what was left of her torso, he moved on, searching for the sniper hidden in the door upstairs.

When he came up empty at first and focused to see further into the room, it took a depleting hit to his own shields to make him realise that the smoke was dispersing as quickly as it had expanded. As he hunkered back down just before a round punched into the ground where he had been standing, Desolas began considering an explosive solution. However before he could reach for one of the fragmentation grenades stored in his armor and launch it with his Phaeston, two Mantis rounds soared right past him and into the thin doorgap the shots had been coming from, instantly interrupting the sound of the Prefect that had been shooting at him. Looking back through the door right in time to see a blue armored figure withdraw back into cover, he realised that the cipritinian was still as sharp as the day he had earned his marksman honors.

Realising that the enemy fire had died down for the moment, Shepard, Callius and one of the human marines made a break through the door, passing him and barely reaching appropriate cover before a wave of purple energy pushed the last remains of the smoke all the way through the door, taking Veltax, who had been about to follow the the others, with it and forcing him to crawl back to the door while quickly discarding a piece of his forearm's armor. If the purple glow eating away at it was anything to go by, it was probably the best decision that he tossed it all the way across the room. It had been touched by a warp attack, hence it had been a choice between losing the armor or losing the arm.

"You dare stand in his way?" a familiar voice called with accusation as Desolas had been about to reach for another smoke grenade before realising the vanity of that tactic now that the asari had seen it. "You are an even bigger fool than your brother had described you as, General Arterius." A play on his brother. Interesting. Ignoring the clear provocation that was only meant to make him aggressive and cause him to commit a mistake he couldn't take back, Desolas reached for a flashbang for a response. He hadn't become a general by falling for tricks that had been played since the dawn of turian civilization.

"Bring up your barriers as much as you can and tell me what you see," he called to the krogan, who began glowing purple immediately before rising.

"You sent others to do your bidding? It seems you're also as much of a coward as he said you were," the councilor taunted after Wrex had left the window's frame, fired off a shot of his shotun and thrown himself back against the glass hard enough to crack it. Considering the wall of novice fire that had drilled into his barriers and the fresh orange-bleeding cut on the side of his neck, he had gotten very lucky.

"Five asari coming straight for us. The councilor's right behind them," he said before wiping away the blood dripping down his neck and letting out an angry grunt when it began pouring again immediatley. "They'll pay for that." While he was krogan and would recover from the injury within the next hours, his face showed that he wasn't immune to the pain a shot like that caused. It might finally teach him to start wearing a helmet, even if he could breath without it.

Speaking of.

"Cover your eyes!" Desolas shouted before tossing the next grenade past his cover. Only a second after a blinding white flash had illuminated the corridor, the turian leaned to his left and started shooting. While most of the mass accelerator slugs were caught by a much more powerful barrier being projected in front of the asari, likely by the councilor herself who seemed to have been unaffected by the blinding detonation, pure chance and the sheer number of Phasic rounds being fired at them allowed some of the miniscule rounds to slip past all the layers of protection that stood in their way. After two of the huntresses had been hit, dropping to the ground, the remaining three asari recovered from the stunning effect and advanced forward without sparing a thought to their fallen, instead unleashing a mixture of Disciple shotgun rounds and biotic powers which forced Desolas and the others to back down.

As he pressed his back against the glass, he glanced to the reflection again, seeing that the asari were a mere paces away from them by now. Reaching for the standard-issue talon he had taken from the Parnack's armory, which lacked the black-steel and extreme curve of the Blackwatch blade he had lost on Feros while saving the Thorian, he started counting down in his head to the moment when the first huntress would reach his cover. However instead of reaching zero as intended, Desolas lost count when his mandibles involuntarily pressed against his jaw after seeing their asari ally leave the safety of her cover behind the heavy doorframe they had come form.

"Stop this madness, Mother!" Doctor T'Soni called before sending an uncontrolled purple shockwave of her own down the corridor that staggered both the enemy and her team. After he caught his balance again, Desoals prepared himself to see mass accelerator rounds rip into the asari and kill her right then and there. However instead of hitting her, they only passed through empty air thanks to the other Section 13 agent's quick thinking. If he hadn't jumped forward, thrown both himself and the asari on the ground and dragged her into the safety of the decorative, hip-high hydroponic garden right after two purple flashes, their barriers, and one blue burst of electricity, his shields, illuminated the room, she'd be dead now. While orange sparks were chipped off from their cover, it seemed like the colonial-grade steel-alloy it had been built from would last for some time-

Interrupting the thought, Desolas instinctively spun to his left to lash out with the knife after he saw a black figure appear in the edge of his vision. But instead of making it easy and being caught by surprise, the dark-blue skinned huntress now standing in front of him caught Desolas' blow with ease despite his armor's internal servo engines giving it enough strength to punch through krogan body plates before retaliating incredibly quickly. Flinching as a close-range shot of a Disciple drained his shields entirely and a second one punched into his armor, pushing it to its limits, the air was forced out of his lungs. Knowing that he would die if he didn't, he ignored the pain and the red blinking of his HUD, grabbed the barrel of the shotgun just in time to avoid the lethal third shot and smashed his helmet into the asari's face twice before a hand glowing with biotic energy stopped his attack the third time around. Feeling the pressure on his neck increase and being able to see crack's form in the reinforced visor, Desolas put everything he had into a powerful kick aimed at the asari's knee cap. As the force of the bone-breaking blow made the asari to drop to the ground and gave him the opportunity to act, he smacked the Disciple out of her hand, freed his left hand from her grip and started stabbing at her throat and face with the standard-issue military talon until she stopped putting up a fight, ignorant of his surroundings or the purple blood spilling all over him.

Only when he looked up for the first time since the fight had started, did he see the dead asari lying on top of the unmoving Galviat, hear the triumphant roar of the krogan bounty hunter standing on top of his own kill and notice the curses of the injured human sergeant bleeding from her right arm and the orders being shouted by the N7. Instantly looking at the vital signs of his squad to confirm that Galviat still had a heartbeat, he let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding this entire time.

He was still alive.

Satisfied for now, Desolas pushed the knife back into its sheath after a second attempt, its unfamiliar placement and form making the menial task far from natural, and leaned around the corner again. He had seen three corpses, where were the other three? Before he could answer that question, a wave of purple sent him flying sidewards, again knocking the air out of him as he hit the window.

"I won't allow you to break the cycle!" Councilor T'Soni shouted while Desolas started to feel weightless all of the sudden, incapable of leveling his Phaeston at the asari councilor walking up to his cover and pressing him against the glass. As he watched her dismissively toss Veltax, Wrex, one of the specialist and Shepard, who all had tried to take her by surprise, aside like ragdolls with a circular pulse of biotic energy, he gritted his teeth in pain. "Your brother will bring about our ascension. You won't stand in his way-" as the matriarch was about to keep rambling, another wave of purple staggered her, causing Desolas to fall to the ground, the impact doing the pain or his back no favours. If not for his armor, it'd probably already be broken.

"Mother!" he heard Doctor T'Soni call, who had left the shelter of the hydroponic to confront her mother. "This isn't you. Please, stop while you still can!" Set on using the distraction, Desolas tried reaching for his Carnifx all the while a burst of Phaeston rounds, likely from his lieutenant or the C-SEC detective harmlessly bounced from the councilor's barriers.

"This is exactly who I am, Liara," she said before a wave of her hand into the direction of the door stopped the gunfire and another hand movement made Desolas float again, the grip on his sidearm slipping when he was thrown against the glass, again. "Centuries wasted on living a lie. All the good I could've done if I had seen the truth earlier," repeating the hand movement with her other hand, the asari doctor started to float as well, albeit more reluctantly than Desolas, her own biotics at least giving her a chance to fight back.

"Trust me, you'll regret this, Councilor," the general spoke through clenched mandibles, trying to distract the asari while some of the squad members struggled to get back to their feet.

"My only regret is that it took me this long to recognize the truth of my existence, General," the matriarch argued while the N7 tried to help Veltax to his feet and bring him back to cover, probably aware that her Valykrie alone wouldn't be enough to break the barriers at this distance and that her odds of getting all the way to the councilor to bypass them were slim to none.

"You can still fight the Harbinger, mother!" the younger T'Soni pleaded between ragged breath. "Remember who you are!"

"Why fight those who will save us?" the asari questioned in return, unaware of grey figure silently and quickly closing in on her, the biotic glow that surrounded him quickly fading out as it clashed with the purple field projected by the matriarch. He had seen this before. Callius had called it an annihilation field. It worked similar to a warp attack, only on a less focused but bigger, continuous scale. Would he make it? Desolas had no idea. He might just. However the purple ripples dancing over his body armor weren't a good sign for his success. "The reapers will unlock our potential as they have done to all those who walked before us. They will cleanse us from our weakness and I will help them do it. That is who I am- "sensing either her mistake or the proximity of the human, the councilor spun on her feet just as the human's hand grabbed her neck, the gun that would've been pressed against her spine and biotic nervous system now pointing at her abdomen, far to close for any barrier or kinetic shield to react.

"No!" the asari archeologist cried before the shots started to echo.

He wasn't sure at after which shot he started to fall but what he did know was that the specialist didn't stop until he had unloaded the entire clip of his outdated weapon at point-blank range. Discarding the empty magazine and exchanging it for a new one, he was about to level his weapon at the asari's head and finish the fight for good when the younger T'Soni, having already recovered, threw herself on her mother's bleeding body to shield her.

What happened after that?

Desolas had no idea.

As the strength necessary to lift his head became too much to handle, he lost sight of the dying councilor, managing to turn his head just far enough to see Lieutenant Callius kneel next to the body of Galviat, his vital signs a mystery due to the broken HUD no longer providing any indication. Passing out right as the biotic pressed her helmet against the one of the former hastatim, Desolas was strangely content with himself despite not knowing if he was actually going to wake up again.

They had won.

That was all that mattered.

It put his mind at peace.

* * *

 **One Minute Earlier, 16. January 2415 AD, Noveria**

"I'll be fine, you go and take charge, Commander," Veltax urged while sitting up against the cover they had taken shelter behind. As he reached for and subsequently dropped a stim-pack in the process, she threw a look at the other specialist and at his shaking hands. He was probably bleeding internally. At least that was her guess. With all the armor it was hard to see just what had been broken during the two times he had been thrown around the room.

"I got him," Yo-yo nodded. Throwing a last look at the woman, the N7 did exactly that, jumping over the hydroponic garden just as the last shot echoed through the room.

"No!" she heard Liara cry before throwing herself on the limp, blood-stained body of her mother, forcing the specialist standing right behind her to lower his gun. "No, no, no, no, no!" she sobbed as Emily noticed the beaten look of the specialists' armor.

It looked like it had been burned and shredded at the same time. There was nothing left of the digital camoflague paint and the thinner plates around his forearms had been shaved off entirely. She didn't know what had happened to his armor but judging by the exposed undersuit and the purple rifts in the few pieces of his armor that were still intact, it looked like he had been a few seconds away from looking just like it.

"Come on. You have to get off of her. It's too dangerous," the man said before noticing his the arm the matriarch lifted to touch her daughter, prompting him to move in hopes of getting a clean shot. "Off of her. Now!" he called before Emily placed a hand on the weapon after looking at the matriarch's peaceful face.

"Do not worry," the councilor said in a much calmer, weaker voice than before. "I won't hurt my Little Wing."

"Mother," Liara said between surpressed sobs. "You're back."

"For now," the councilor whispered as her hand finished the embrace of the younger asari. "I can feel it creeping back in. Trying to mend what's been broken, to trap me again. It won't be too long before-" after suppressing a cough, the dying T'Soni went on, adjusting herself so she could look at Emily and the specialist at the same time, her strangely shaped, dark-blue, husk-like eyes flickering in the process. "Too long before I have to watch myself again. So please, make the most of my time. Let me help you stop him."

"If you want to help us, you need to tell us everything," Magic replied coldly while Emily considered pulling Liara away for her own safety, knowing the asari would never forgive her if she did.

"To continue the cycle, Saren needs access to the Citadel," the councilor said before spitting up some blood that stained the white helmet of Liara's armor. "Before their fall, the protheans built the Conduit on a world called Ilos. It is beyond the Mu Relay. I don't know what it was created for but I know that it'll allow him to-" another cough. "To bypass the Citadel's defenses altogether."

"Why the Citadel?" Emily injected.

"I don't know," the asari replied while patting Liara's back, her face growing paler every minute and making the dark-blue, husk-like eyes stand out all the more. "The way to finding the Mu Relay and the Conduit was imprinted in the mind of the rachni queen," she said while touching her daughter's head, her eyes flashing a brief black. Letting go of the hug to touch her daughter's face and brushing her hand against her cheek, the councilor went on. "And now they are imprinted in yours as well. You are the key now. You will stop what I couldn't stop. Succeed where I failed. Save us all."

"Mother, I-" the asari choked on her tears, giving her mother the sign to keep going.

"No matter what I achieved in my life, you were my greatest gift to this world, Liara. I've loved you from the day you were born and suffered every time I had to leave you," as her eyes flickered again, Shepard noticed that the councilor's eyes were now searching the room.

"I know that I am your enemy. I watched myself hurt and torture your companions. But please, I have a favour to ask." After Emily looked at Liara, she nodded. "Please, Commander. I wish to die as myself. I refuse to do his bidding again, even if it is only for my dying breath." Feeling a sickening feeling rise through her body, Emily looked at the councilor. For her it'd be a mercy. For Liara? The opposite. It'd traumatize her. Even more so than she already was.

"Think you can get her away from here?" the specialist muttered, his implication clear.

"She asked me to do it," Emily replied while taking a step towards the crying asari, stopping when she realised Liara was holding on even tighter now. After looking at them for a moment, the specialist pulled her away from the two asari. Then he pulled of his damaged helmet and wiped his sweaty brow. She had to correct her past assumption, he already looked as beaten as his armor. Although she had no idea what he had to do to get that close to the councilor, it was evident that it had taken everything he had. She had seen a lot of people look exactly the way he did right now. They were usually close to passing out, having hit the absolute limit of what their body could do. It was a miracle he was even standing right now, really.

"If you shoot her mom in front of her, there's a chance she won't give you the intel. We can't risk that," he said quietly, the lack of a squad intercom ensuring that Liara wouldn't hear them.

"She'd never do that," she replied immediately.

"You've known her for little more than a week. Care to bet the galaxy on those odds?" While the part about the time span was true, their meeting on Therum hadn't been that long ago, the mindmeld she had shared with the asari made her nod. Thanks to that connection, she knew her better than just about anyone. "She wouldn't."

"Alright. Either way, she already hates me," he replied as he looked at Emily with exhausted, hazel eyes. "It won't make a difference to her if I pull the trigger. But if you do it," he left it up to her to finish that thought.

"Okay. Fine," Emily finally replied before walking back to Liara, who was still holding on to her dying mother, tensing up as she heard two pairs of footsteps close in on her.

"I won't let you kill her," the archeologist replied defiantly.

"I won't kill her," Emily replied. It was a half-truth. She wasn't going to be the one to do it. "But we have to go now, Liara."

"No."

"It's fine," her mother said before starting to pry her off her. "Go." How she still had the strength left to do that? Emily had no idea.

"No!" Liara insisted.

"My Little Wing," the councilor spoke quietly. "Please do me this favour. I wish to join the goddess as myself and not a pawn."

"No," it was a weaker reply than before but despite what Liara was saying, the N7 could see her starting to let go.

"Come on, Liara," she said while cautiously helping the asari get back on her feet, trying to keep her from seeing the huge purple pool of blood that had collected where she had thrown herself on her mother. After sharing a look with the specialist, she started walking to the doorway they had come from, passing Garrus and Alenko, who were tending to the unconscious Arterius seated up against the wall and only stopped their treatment to look at the two of them for one moment. "It's gonna be fine," she lied when they reached the breached door and a lone shot echoed out behind them, its implications causing the full weight of the asari to fall into her arms.

It wasn't going to be fine.

* * *

 **Ten Minutes Later, 16. January 2415 AD, Noveria, Peak 15 Tram Station**

Considering that they were carrying two injured, unconscious turians, a passed-out asari and had to go slow enough for Williams and Veltax, who both had insisted on walking themselves, to keep pace, they had made good time back to tram. Then again, they had Wrex to carry the heavy Blackwatch soldiers and no rachni to go through.

Speaking of the rachni.

"General Arterius said something about a neutron purge earlier, didn't he?" Morneau said as the tram approached, feeling the cold air of Noveria brush against his nearly numb face and giving him the first non-burning sensation ever since he had gotten up close and personal with the matriarch. Given how rarely he had used his unnatural abilities to this point, he had almost forgotten how much of a pain Eezo drain really was. Judging the way Lieutenant Alenko was glancing at him every now and again, the older biotic probably knew what he was going through right now. A downward spiral of exhaustion that wasn't going to end anytime soon and would only get worse if nothing was done about it.

"That he did," Yo-yo replied.

Turning back the way they had come and realising that he had trouble doing something as basic as looking straight, he sighed. "Please tell me the trigger isn't that way." It'd be the perfect end to this mess if he had to go back that way, set off the purge and run for his life now. But if that's what it took to get the job done, he would.

"It's activated in the control hub."

"Which is where?" he asked, wondering how the hell he could sweat in this climate.

"The way Blackwatch and I came in," breathing out in relief, Morneau leaned against the railing, something he regretted as soon as he realised he'd have to get back up when the tram arrived.

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," he said before suddenly feeling the adrenaline that had been keeping him on his feet leave his system, dizzyness replacing it.

Well.

Shit.

"I can imagine," Yo-yo replied before stopping him from dropping sideways afterhe had lost his balance. "Hey careful now," she said. "Jesus, you really are barely holding on right now, aren't you?" trying to stabilize him again but failing to do so, both of them realised in the same moment that he done for to today.

"Held on. Past tense," he corrected before blackness started to impact his vision. Here he went. With the ground closing in rapidly but suddenly stopping, he could only assume that the other Section 13 agent caught him just in time.

"What's going on? Did he get hit?" a voice he couldn't quite place asked with worry.

"No. It's Eezo drain," another replied while he felt himself being placed on the cold metal ground of the tram station, incapable of pushing himself up again no matter how much he wanted to. "It's what happens when a human biotic goes over the edge."

"Turians get it too," a flanging voice added as a sharp sting punctured his forearm while the silhouette of a man kneeled down next to him. "We're not meant to be biotics. So our bodies just give in once we're past a certain point."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Well, this should keep him stable for now but he needs to get to the Normandy, asap. Radio Chakwas. Tell her to prep for another casualty."

Casualty?

He didn't have time to be a damn casualty. There was still a neutron purge and a rachni queen to take care of.

"It's alright, Magic. I got you."

* * *

 **Meanwhile, 16. January 2415 AD, Noveria, Peak 15**

"Alenko?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," the biotic replied as he rose from his position next to the now fourth unconscious member of their team.

"You go ahead and bring them home," Emily said as the tram reached the platform they were standing on. After handing Liara over to Garrus, she explained. "There's still something I have to do," she said. The mention of the neutron purge had made her remember the queen. Between the fighting, the councilor's death and their number of casualties, which was now up to six, she had forgotten about the creature trapped in the glass tank.

"The queen?" the turian asked..

"Exactly," she nodded before looking at him in expectation. "Well? Want to give your opinion as well?" he had been strangely quiet up to now.

"I'm a jaded cop, Commander. Not exactly the type of person you want to ask to make that kind of decision. Besides, I never was good at choosing."

"Meaning it's up to me."

"Well, since the general's out cold, it's either you or Wrex," he said while adjusting the weight of the asari on his shoulder and looking at the krogan carrying the two heavy turians. "And since I don't see myself and the lieutenants carrying all these guys on our own," he elaborated.

"It's me," she nodded before checking her Valkyrie, not hearing a single protest. "Sent the tram back when you're up. I'll handle the neutron purge as well."

"On your own?" the C-SEC detective replied.

"Everyone else has to bring our wounded out," the N7 replied with a shrug, keeping the part that she didn't exactly think anyone besides her was still in the shape to outrun the purge to herself. There was no way she'd put another one of her team into danger for something she could do just as well on her own. "I'll see you on the Normandy," she called before breaking into a jog, returning to the hot lab a few minutes later, passing all the carnage they had caused and all the blood they had spilled in the process. It had been a tough fight, tougher than any she had had before.

But considering what they had gained,it had been worth it.

Letting go of her weapon and allowing it to dangle from the sling attached to her chest plate, Emily finally looked at the queen and waited for it to reanimate another corpse.

"Your music betrays your success," the reanimated corpse, this time a krogan, spoke. "We can sense that the last of the oily shadows have left this world. Their symphony was silenced."

As she stepped up to the console and rested her hands on it, eyeing the red button that would unleash the acid and the yellow and black switch that would release the queen respectively, she considered everyone's words. The rachni were dangerous and just like the specialist had said, they had attacked them this time as well, despite the queen's claims that it had all been because of her ancestors being indoctrinated herself. That alone added a lot of weight to the necessity of her death. However if she really couldn't control her offsprings, maybe because Binary Helix had figured out a way to isolate her in that tank of hers, and that had been the source of their aggression, killing her would be wrong.

Hell, killing her was wrong one way or another. It was genocide. Plain and simple.

But maybe it was necessary? The threat of the rachni simply was too bi-

No.

No it wasn't.

No matter the risk, genocide wasn't an option. It couldn't be. She wasn't going to compromise her morals because she was scared of something. That was part of the personal code she had made for herself when becoming an N7."

"If I pull this switch, you leave. You don't attack anyone and you never, ever return to the known galaxy. If you do, I'll come after you and I'll end you for good. Is that understood?"

"We wish to sing our own song," the krogan corpse growled. "Far away from the symphony of others."

"I'll take that as a yes," Emily said before pulling on the switch, giving herself no time to second guess the decision. Only when the queen didn't immediately rush out of the tank did she start thinking about the possible consequences.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked quickly.

"Although you are still colorless, we can now sense the pain in your music. That is a weakness the oily shadows exploit every time they sing their dreaded tune," as her head turned and her blue eyes looked at her, Emily tried to make sense of what the queen was saying. When she was done, the only explanation she could come up with was that the queen was worried. What was going on?

"I'm not sure I'm following you."

"You sing a lone song so you well never be louder than their choir. But if you find a harmony, the music of someone who will help you stop the silence they seek to impose, you may compose a new song for all, colorful and colorless alike."

Find herself a harmony?

Hold up, hadn't she said tha-

Nope.

She wasn't going there, definitely not today and probably not ever.

Deciding to make the most out of the opportunity and finding something different to think about, Emily figured she might as well try to get something out of the queen before she left.

"Okay," she muttered, stretching out the word far belong its natural length. "Before you go, is there anything else you can tell me about the oily shadows? How they got to your people? How to fight them?"

"The choir of legion sings an insidious tune to those that listen. It promises harmony, an impossible symphony, all at the cost of embracing the oily shadow. But behind its promise and its colorful songs, there's only blackness and silence." While she understood the communication barrier, she was really starting to grow tired of the way the rachni seemed to talk. If only she could be straight with her and not use those weird metaphors all the time. "The lone with pure intent and noble cause are the first to be claimed by their false song. Only through harmony can one face the blackness of their all-consuming crescendo."

"Still not really following," she admitted. While better than before, it was still really, really cryptic.

"We must go now. Our children need us. The have heeded our music. A new song awaits us. As promised it will be sung far from here. Farewell."

With that the queen left, running forward and into the corridors at a speed Emily didn't think a creature of that size could reach.

Talk about ungrate-

Spinning on her heel as the sound of the krogan hitting the floor startled her, Emily relaxed despite the dozens of insectoid legs crawling through the ceiling into the direction the queen was going. Shaking her head, the N7 then went all the way back to the tram for a second time, using the way to try and come up with a way to report all of this to the Council, Anderson and the HSA. Her objective was dead and Saren was still at large. But she knew what was going on, at least partially, and had learned of a way to stop it from happening. That had to count for something, right? When the sound of the tram's doors opening tore her from her thoughts, Shepard decided that she'd have ample time to come up with an explanation on her way back to the Normandy and instead headed for the control hub. When she had reached it, Emily quickly used the plans she had been given to find a way to trigger the neutron purge. Relieved when she realised that she could set a timer, the commander decided to run a scan of the facility, finding no more life signs besides her own, before deciding that fifteen minutes would be more than enough for her to get out of here.

"Joker, do I have a Kodiak waiting for me?" Shepard asked, her hand hovering over the switch. She'd be damned if she pressed it before she knew she was actually getting out of here.

"Told them to touch down outside the hub, Ma'am. You know, just in case you have to dramatically outrun the explosion and jump to safety at the last possible moment," the pilot replied as upbeat as usual.

"Copy that," Emily said before realising something else, a small smirk spreading under her helmet. She might not need a ride after all and she really had been looking forward to this. officers rarely got to do the driving after all. "Say, did anyone remember to pick up the Mako?"

"Of course. Those things are damn expensive."

And as quickly as that, the smirk faded.

Well, maybe another time.

"Understood," with a press of the button, she expected a warning siren to echo through the control hub with a voice announcing to everyone how imminent their destruction was. Instead she only got a boring timer flashing a bright orange message, counting down from fifteen to zero minutes. "I'll be right out," she added.

* * *

 **One Hour Later, 16. January 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy**

"We understand the situation you were in, Commander," Councilor Sparatus, or rather his hologram, spoke, "But we still need you to come back to the Citadel immediately."

Anderson had already warned her about this when they had spoken earlier. As had the enigmatic Director Harper, who despite not being contacted by the Normandy had been the first one to know when she was back and what had happened. The Council wasn't going to be happy about Benezia's death. How could they realistically be expected to?

"I understand, Councilor. I failed my mission," she nodded. While they hadn't said a word about the fact that her 'classified' status as a Spectre was already the main topic of the day for every major news network and written all over the extranet, the still-Spectre got why she was being recalled to the Citadel. They had to sort this out and explain to everyone just how Councilor Benezia T'Soni had ended up dying during the operation meant to safe her. Metaphorical heads would role and her status would be among i-

"Didn't fail mission," Councilor Valern said. "Perimeters were altered beyond your scope. Not your fault. Considering variables, you did excellent. Better than anyone else would've done."

"What Valern is trying to say is that you shouldn't take this the wrong way, Agent Shepard. We know that you did the best you could and we're not blaming you," Councilor Irissa, the asari representative, explained. "But given everything that has occurred since your departure, an indepth interview is necessary. If your reports are true," she began.

"They are. All of it," Emily threw in before Irissa continued.

"Then the threat of a krogan clone army," wait, that was what they were worried about? "is one we cannot ignore."

"And neither are the 'reapers'," the turian added before making air quotes with both of his hands. "Or the Harbinger leading them."

"Council wants to take action," the salarian nodded after sharing a look with his colleagues. "But action requires proof. After today, you are living proof. Your hearing will force our governments to act."

"Hence, we need you to return," Sparatus finally said. "To personally present what you discovered."

"Understood, Councilors."

* * *

 _Codex: The Rachni Wars (11 CE to 28 CE)_

 _Although theoretical methods to uplifting a species had existed for far longer than any of the Council Species had been spacefaring, the true logistics necessary to ascending the krogan people from the rubble of their nuclear devastation and bringing them to the frontlines of the next rachni incursions were of a scale the Union hadn't expected. While the construction of the Shroud, a device meant to stabilize the atmosphere of Tuchanka, had been a gesture of good will and the new-found purpose given the the resigned krogan had progressed the procedure incredibly, the ongoing third rachni incursion, which was even larger than the first two combined, and the knowledge that more would likely follow after it, put a strain on the Council that almost broke it._

 _As soldiers of all races died to buy time for the krogan population to grow large enough to muster an army and the industries of several core worlds produced weapons, ships and armor not for the rank-and-file troops fighting the insectoid invaders in their own homes but for what many considered to be the product of salarian madness, morale was fading and more worlds were falling every month. With the death toll climbing close to one billion after the rachni ravaged the batarian core world of Tha'Sut and a dozen more salarian and asari colonies in the Attican Traverse, slaying all but a few of their millions of inhabitants, it looked like the Council would fall right until the first krogan deployed during the Siege of Trakalesk III._

 _An urbanized world shared between asari, salarians and batarians and frequented by visitors of every other race, the sky of Trakalesk III was darkened by a rachni invasion fleet in 27 CE. Although garrisoned by a large PDF and reinforced by a fleet of the Republican Navy, the council troops of the world could do little but delay the inevitable end right until enormous transport ships the size of dreadnoughts, carrying a million krogan shock troops led by the seasoned survivors of the tuchankan nuclear war arrived._

 _Resilient in nature and obedient to a fault, the krogan soldiers and the reinforcements they cleared the way for delivered the Council the first victory of the Third Incursion. After breaking the rachni siege and taking Trakalesk III's cities back one house-turned-hive at a time in a one year long, brutal fight, the tide had finally turned despite massive casualties. Rejuvenated by their victory, the Council set its eyes on reclaiming what it had lost._

* * *

 **A/N: So, chapter 61. Finally finishing up Noveria and the 16. January 2415 AD (which really, really dragged on longer than I though it would)**

 **With this done, we are headed back to the Citadel... and to some other plot threads (including Redfords which I am sure all of you forgot.) that are all going to lead into the big battle of this "season" ...which none of you talked about in the reviews. So no cookies.**

 **It's Vermire.**

 **Vermire's going to be bigger than in canon.**

 **It's basically going to be Attack of the Krogan Clones. O** **nly the clones are the bad guys.** **And it's on Kamino.** **But Kamino's actually Vermire.** **And it's not Star Wars but Mass Effect but also not really Mass Effect but rather a fanfic adaptation of Mass e-**

 **Okay so it probably won't be attack of the krogan clones but it'll be a larger set-piece than anything we had this season and I just had the Battle of Geonosis in mind when I came up with the idea of krogan clones being somewhat bigger than in canon.**

 **Speaking of things I didn't have this season either, a detailed-ish fight scene. I forgot how much I liked to write those things in the past and how quickly they fill up a chapter (I had a lot more planned for this but before I knew it I hit 10k, and from personal experiene that's the limit of what I can focus on reading in one sitting.)**

 **What else is there to speak about?**

 **Liara's mom's dead.**

 **The rachni queen isn't.**

 **That happened.**

 **We'll see what comes from that.**

 **Do I have anything else to say?** **Not really. Except well maybe I don't want people reading too much into some of the stuff that happened in this chapter. But also not to little either. (damn that's cryptic.)**

 **On a sidenote, I have the highest respect for whoever wrote the rachni dialogue because damn is it hard to try and phrase stuff with music-comparisions only.**

 **For the record we're at 529 reviews, 831 favorites and 925 follows.**

 **As always, review and le tme know what you think.**

 **See you around next time.**


	62. Trauma

**Chapter 62. Trauma**

* * *

 **17\. January 2415 AD, HSASV Normandy, Enroute to the Citadel**

Hearing the knock on the door of the captain's quarters, Emily frowned at the screen and the asari on it."Sounds like I have to go. We'll talk again soon. I promise."

"Of course we will," her aunt shrugged. "Now go, take care of your urgent Spectre business."

"You'd know all about Spectre business, wouldn't you, Agent Tela Vasir?"

"I'd say it runs in the family but since we're not actually related," Tela offered.

"We'll just chalk it up to your overwhelmingly positive influence?"

"Exactly."

As the knock repeated, she sighed. "I really gotta go now. Bye."

"Good bye."

Shutting the terminal sitting on the desk wooden desk and glancing at the clock to figure out who would bother her as late as-

Huh.

Six in the evening?

She really had lost track of time ever since the mindmeld.

-to figure out who would bother her as early as six in the evening, Emily quickly stretched upwards and walked to the door, opening it with a wipe of her hand.

"Commander," the officer greeted formally.

"Alenko?" she replied with his name. "What's the matter?" was this about Garrus? Despite everything that had happened, the fact that the lieutenant didn't trust the detective because he might very well be spying on them for C-SEC was still present in her mind. She had told him they'd deal with it after Noveria and now that time had come.

"Nothing at all, actually," Alenko said, shaking his head in response. "I just came by to tell you that Doctor T'Soni woke up. Figured you'd want to know."

"And you were right," the N7 replied while walking to her chair and pulling the black N7 jacket from it. "Has she said anything yet?" she asked after pulling the piece of cloth on and closing up the cabin.

"Not a word," the lieutenant replied as he called the elevator with a press of the button next to its door. "She let Chakwas treat her and now she's just sitting in the medbay, basically catatonic."

"Shit."

"Doctor Chakwas said it's a normal response to a traumatic event."Then they had vastly different definitions of normal.

"But it's still not good," Emily replied.

"Of course not, Commander."

Alright, it was starting to bother her again.

"Why so formal Alenko? Didn't I tell you to drop the commander when it's just the two of us?"

"You did."

"So, what's the matter?" was this about Garrus? Or had she done something else to get on his bad side.

"I guess I'm not used to things not being formal," the man shrugged right as the doors closed. It wasn't much of a reply. She could tell that there was more to it.

"Well you should start getting used to it then," Emily shrugged. "Considering this mission might just be starting," by now everyone knew why they were headed to the Citadel not just to get a debriefing but also to be told how to continue from here on out, "you might be stuck with me as your CO for a long time."

"Dreadful. Truly dreadful."

"Damn," she whistled. "Did you just graduate to jokes?"

Watching the smile spread on his lips right as the elevator opened again, she got her answer.

"You're a fast learner, Alenko."

"So I've been told," the lieutenant said before they walked through the mess hall and to the medbay, where she could already see Williams sitting in her bed, a sling around her injured arm. From what she had been told, the NCO would make a full recovery. Within the next two weeks.

While that of course meant that she was down on one of her best shooters if something new came up after her visit to the Citadel, Emily was just glad that the gunny had gotten off comparatively easy. From what she had heard from the Parnack, which had parted ways with them by now, General Arterius had a serious concussion and at least four broken rips, Veltax wouldn't be walking decently for the coming month and Galviat, the most badly injured member of the honor guard, would have to be shipped off to Hierarchy core space for further, more intense treatment. The fight with the councilor's commandos had apparently been a pretty close call for him.

Moving on from Williams, she saw an empty bed that looked like it had been left in a hurry and, to the right of it, the asari scientist sitting on the third clinically white bed. The way she was hugging her legs and staring out of the medbays window really didn't sit all that well with Emily. No. That was an understatement. It was gut-wrenching to look at. The archeologist looked devastated.

"Do you need me in there?" Alenko asked, folding his hands behind his back.

"I appreciate it," she really did. "But I think I have to do this on my own."

"I get that," he nodded. "Take all the time you need, Shepard. I'll make sure things run smoothly while you're busy."

"Thanks."

Crossing the space between her and the medbay with a brisk pace, Emily opened the door to the clinically white room and looked at Liara, who didn't even as much as glance into her direction.

"Ma'am," Williams greeted instead.

"How you feeling, Gunny?"

"Pissed that one of the commandos got me," she replied.

"But ready for payback?"

"Always, Ma'am," the marine nodded.

"Good to hear it," Emily offered taking a cautious step towards Liara.

"She hasn't said a word since she woke up," Williams informed her.

"I heard."

"Doctor Chakwas said it might be some kind of protective response to the trauma shared by the mindmeld. But since she's not a psychologist or an asari specialist," the NCO began.

"She couldn't say for sure," the commander finished before walking towards her bed, past the one where she assumed the specialist should've been in right about now.

"Yes," Williams said. "Do you want me to give you some space. I can go to the mess hall if you want to. I got shot in the arm, not the leg."

While she also appreciated that gesture, it was unnecessary.

"No, Williams, you'll stay exactly where you are right now," she countered. "You just got shot. Give it a rest for once and stay in bed."

"Aye, Ma'am."

As she looked at the scientist, who didn't even as much as glance at her, Emily wondered if there was something she could do to snap her out of it and decided that there was only one way to find out.

"Liara, I know that nothing I can say will change what happened but," unsure of how to continue, she placed a hand on top of Liara's. The fact that she didn't pull away was already a good sign. Or at least she hoped that it was. "But I'm sorry that I put you through that. I should've known you better, gotten you back to the Normandy from the moment we knew your mother was-"

"You are the last person I blame, Commander," while she was surprised to hear her speak, the lack of emotion wasn't lost to her. "If I hadn't been so curious and had just stayed out of what the general and his brother were trying to drag me into, none of this would've happened."

"Liara you're not-"

Cutting her off again, the asari now actually looked at her.

"Yes I am," she said quietly. "My mother died because I just had to chase the perfect 's the reality I'll have to live with from here on out."

"Don't do this to yourself," feeling her pull away from her hand, Emily was stuck watching as the doctor lay down.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to sleep now. I'm tired."

She had just woken up, hadn't she?

"Of course not," Emily replied cautiously right as Chakwas left the adjacent supply room and looked at them in brief confusion before putting up a serious expression.

"Outside, please," she whispered after passing her and pressing a tray full of various pills to Williams, who was now stuck holding medication she had no idea how to use.

"What is it, Doctor?" the N7 asked after the other commander had chased away a couple of marines sitting at the same table she had chosen.

"While not entirely catatonic, the state of Doctor T'Soni is," as she searched for the right word, Emily glanced back into the medbay where Liara's back was facing them, "incredibly troublesome."

"Meaning?"

"The psychological trauma she went through might have broken her in ways that I cannot fix. While I recognize a severe case of post traumatic stress when I see it, I can't actually treat it. This kind of injury can't be fixed by a surgery theatre and some medigel. It requires prolonged, intensive treatment by a psychological specialist."

"We are headed for the Citadel," Emily pointed out. "We can make sure she'll get the best possible help once we're there."

"I don't think you understand, Commander," of course she got it. PTSD wasn't exactly a poorly understood condition, especially not from officers who were trained to recognize it in their subordinates and peers. "Given that she mindmelded with someone on the brink on her death, I'm afraid she suffered far more damage than either of us can image."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that she needs an asari specialist. Someone who can fix her mind in ways human medicine just can't."

"Which is really bad considering she's the only one to actually know where the Mu Relay is," as she looked at the source of the voice and watched the female specialist sit down at the end of the table, Emily sighed. That was something she hadn't considered. While Liara's health was incredibly important to her, especially after the asari had already put her mind back together once before, getting the information her mother had given to her was just as necessary as getting her the right kind of treatment. If Saren had already received the location of the relay and was heading to the Conduit, which was likely a crucial part of his plan to usher in the return of the reapers, they were racing against time and every day spent waiting for Liara to get better was a day closer to there not being a tomorrow.

"Specialist," she greeted."

"Young," the brunette woman clad in an unmarked marine uniform added friendly, offering her hand to Emily. "So, I heard Doctor T'Soni is up now. How is she?"

"She was catatonic until the commander talked to her," Chakwas replied with worry in her voice.

"And?" Young asked, looking at her in expectation.

"And she didn't exactly say much. Especially not in regards to the relay," Emily said, again looking at the medical bay and the back of Liara. Just what else had the dying councilor passed onto her? "Noveria hit her hard."

"Understandably," the specialist said before she clasped her hands together and put the, over her mouth. She was thinking about saying something, the N7 could tell. A few moments later she did and Shepard got why she had hesitated. It wasn't exactly an ethical proposition. "Now I hate to be the one to bring it up, but if push comes to shove and she just stays silent forever from here on out, would there be a way to extract the information? Like having another asari take it from her the same way she got it?" When the woman was done with her suggestion, she looked at Chakwas for a reply. However the doctor could only raise her arms defensively.

"Like I said, I'm not an asari specialist," she explained.

"Don't mindmelds work like that, though? A two-way street so to speak? Both parties can access whatever the other one's thinking, take and give at the same time?"

"Technically yes," the doctor nodded. "But it's not that simple."

"But we could get to the information like that if we have to, right?" the woman countered.

"Not without putting Liara at risk, " Shepard said quickly. After her 'experience' with the doctor in the wake of receiving the prothean cipher, she had felt strangely inclined to understand what had happened, prompting her to search the extranet and the Codex for information. "Sure, a mindmeld is pretty safe as long as it's voluntary. But when it's not," the N7 began.

"Permanent damage may be created on the receiving mind," Chakwas finished, the look Emily gave her prompting her to explain. "I might not be an asari specialist but I did research what could happen to you before I allowed Doctor T'Soni to try her experimental treatment."

"Do you think she wouldn't let it happen?" Young asked before glancing at the medbay.

"Sorry?"

"You said that there's no real risk if it happens voluntarily. So the only way this could go wrong is if T'Soni doesn't want it to be done."

"Given the state she's in, I'm afraid Doctor T'Soni might not be capable of a voluntary meld," the older medical officer replied. "Furthermore any incursion into her mind, especialy with the goal of procuring specific information, could permanently damage her memory and her brain."

"Making it dangerous and pointless at the same time," the specialist replied with a sigh. "So that plan's off the table." Luckily. Although she wasn't going to say it because in a way she knew that on a grand scale of things Liara's wellbeing was by far outweighed by the information in her head, any plan that would hurt one of her crew was 'off the table' to begin with. Sure, when they were on the ground fighting and she had to make decisions to win said fight, she couldn't guarantee their safety but what kind of officer would she be if she her team at risk outside of combat? "I take it it's waiting then?"

"It's still a couple of days to the Citadel. A lot can happen in that time," Chakwas offered, leading the specialist to look at her this time around.

"Waiting," Emily simply said.

"Understood," she nodded before getting up.

"Before you go," Chakwas said quickly, leading Young to freeze in place and Emily to peak up. This could be interesting.

"Yes?" she replied.

"You wouldn't happen to have an idea where your colleague went?"

"No. Why?" the quick, almost innocent way she gave that response in made Emily raise an eyebrow.

"Because despite me not remembering having discharged him, Specialist Morneau doesn't seem to be in my medbay anymore."

Morneau, huh? Of all the ways she would've guessed she'd get a name to put to the face that wasn't some dumb code sign, figuring out that a medical officer who had access to his medical record and just tell her his name by coincidence hadn't been one of them.

"Is that so?" the specialist asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"It is," if she didn't already know that the doctor hated it when her patients did that from her own, personal experience, the tone of the physician alone gave away how unpleased she was.

"Yeah. He does that sometimes," Young said in return.

"By 'that' you mean endanger his health?"

"Disappear. It's a bad habit," she shrugged.

"That it is," the older woman paused briefly. "When you find him, you can tell him that that habit might get him into a lot of trouble one day," the doctor said. "He nearly killed himself by over-exhaustion. The last thing he should be doing is discharge himself from my supervision."

"I'll be sure to pass it along when I find him."

"It'd be best if that happened sooner than later."

"So I'll go look for him right now," the woman concluded.

"Please."

"Alright. Consider it done, Doc."

* * *

 **Thirty Three Minutes Later, HSASV Normandy**

While he was sure that the calming effect of the drive core had something to do with the fact that he was a biotic and reacted differently to mass effect fields than other people, his personal, non-scientific explanation for why the humming seemed to put him at ease was that it was rhythmic and predictable. A rare constant in an otherwise unpredictable environment.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" the chief engineer said as he walked to a console placed near the observation window the specialist had been looking out of for god knows how long. "A marvel of human-turian engineering.

"It definitely is," the Section 13 agent replied before glancing at the man. His black hair was cut as short as possible without him becoming bold and judging by the wrinkles in his face, he was well into his fifties, making him considerably older than Morneau himself.

"I'm Chief Engineer Adams," the man introduced himself, extending a hand. It was obvious what he was waiting for.

"Daniel," he offered his first name in return.

"I don't think I've seen you around before, Daniel. Did the commander pick you up on Noveria?" he was trying to hide his curiosity with small-talk. It nearly worked.

"She did," he replied briefly, deciding to indulge the man. After all, he was the one encroaching on his working environment. "I'm not staying long, though."

"I'm sure that's what the others said as well when they first got here."

"The others?"

"The krogan, the turian, the asari," the man listed. "Wherever we go, the commander seems to bring someone new along for the ride," he chuckled. "I guess it's just her nature to make people want to follow her."

The commander. That was something he still had to get done before he left the Normandy.

"I guess so," he replied absent-mindedly.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" Adams concluded. "Can't say I blame you. On a ship like the Normandy, peace and quiet is rare. It's why you came down here, isn't it?"

"Actually I came down here because I like the humming," Morneau said in return, this time using more than three words.

"Seriously?" Adams asked, causing him to nod. "Damn. You might be the first person I ever heard saying that. Most people just find it annoying."

"I think it's relaxing," he shrugged before rubbing the spot of his neck where a small, almost invisible scar covered his biotic amplifier. "Might have something to do with the Eezo running through my veins."

"Well. To each their own," the engineer offered while typing on his tablet and producing a hologram displaying some of the drive core's subsystems. "So, what's your story?" he asked while scratching his chin at something on the tablet.

"What do you mean?"

"Why you're here I mean," he clarified. "Wrex joined to get back at Saren, Vakarian was ordered to help us by C-SEC and Doctor T'Soni got saved by Shepard back on Therum and stayed for her mom. So, what's your story? How'd you end up on the Normandy?"

"I used to work with her father," he replied, not even sure why he had decided to tell that truth. It didn't even have anything to do with why he was on the Normandy. He chalked it up to the Eezo drain.

"Didn't he die some time ago?" Adams asked in return while swiping through the readings in front of him. "At least that's what I heard from Pressley."

"Seven months ago," Morneau replied, watching the drive core's rhythmic pulsing and coming back to his short replies. He wasn't getting out of this one, was he? As a sigh left his mouth, he pushed himself away from the glass. He had said he'd do it so now he would, no matter how tired he still felt. "You just reminded me that I still have to take care of something. I'll see you around, Adams."

"Sure you will, I'm always right here. Just me and the core, day in day out," the man muttered, now fully focused on his work.

Although the way to elevator and up to the deck where Shepard's quarters were located wasn't far, it took the specialist strangely long to actually get there. Or at least it felt like he did.

Why was this so hard?

That was the question he was asking himself as he was standing in front of the automatic door and hesitating to knock on it.

He could go deep into hostile territory, be on his own all the way through a mission and get out in the nick of time and not lose his nerve once, no matter how close he got to being caught.

He could face down a horde of husk, watch a platoon of marines die horrible deaths and fail to save one of the agents that had trained him and not freeze for longer than second.

He could walk through a biotic field that was tearing him apart on a molecular to shoot an asari matriarch from up close without hesitation and only pass out from over-exhaustion when he knew the job was done.

But he couldn't have an honest conversation about the fact that he felt pretty shitty about one of those?

He knew that trying to hide behind the fact that it was 'classified' wasn't going to work. Shepard had already either seen or been told just about everything that had made Akuze classified.

So he had no reason to not have this conversation.

Yet he was still reluctant to get it over with.

What kind of person did that make him?

He wasn't sure but it certainly wasn't the kind he wanted to be.

Screw it.

Before he could second guess the choice, the knocked his fist against the center of the grey door and readied himself for a chat that was probably way overdue. Figuring that he'd have a couple more moments to actually come up with what he was trying to say, the fact that the door opened nearly instantaneously took him by surprise and robbed him of any chance to put together a plan of attack.

As he came eye to eye with the commander, it struck him that this was actually the first time they'd talk without someone shooting at them, which of course meant that it was also the first time he actually got a good look at what she looked like without an onyx-black N7 armor protecting her or the more subtle clues a person gave off when another approached them. After quickly looking at her, he summarized what he could tell on the fly. Judging by the somewhat dark, wet auburn hair that ran to her shoulders, he had caught her just after showering and judging by green eyes that instantly mustered him from head to toe before her freckled face locked itself into a stoic impression devoid of the brief smile it had carried when opening the door, she wasn't happy to see him. Furthermore the way she folded her arms in front of the black N7 shirt she was wearing and seemed intent on staring straight through his own eyes, told him that she also didn't exactly want to talk to him.

He hadn't expected anything else.

"Can I help you, Specialist Morneau?" the commander asked when he failed to say even a word. That took him by surprise. How did she-?

Focus. It didn't matter. It was just a name.

"We need to talk," he explained.

"About?" Shepard returned.

That was a good question. Was he just going to say it or was he going to find a way to lead to the fact that he had dropped her father to his death?

"Noveria," he said, deciding to do what he always did. Improvise. "It's obvious that I stepped on your feet." He hadn't meant to do so but from her point of view, that's exactly what had happened yesterday.

"That's one way to put it," the N7 said before moving away from the door frame and walking into the room. Although it wasn't explicitly said, he took the gesture as an invitation and followed, allowing the door to close behind him.

"And what's the other way?"

"The other way would be that you have some kind of problem with me," the red-haired woman shrugged while leaning against the wall next to her desk, always keeping his eyes on him as if she didn't actually trust him. Then again, she probably didn't. "Which is strange considering I never actually met you before the Citadel and only got your name like half an hour ago."

"I don't have a problem with you," he clarified. Although it had taken some time, he finally got that the problem was more with himself.

"It sure feels like it from where I'm standing," Shepard replied. "I mean I get it. People like you?" interesting choice of words. "They have to be cold and ruthless. It's part of your job," as she paused to give him time to respond, Morneau instead chose to patiently wait for the rest of her summary of his character. "But that doesn't explain the arguing and the accusations. The only reason for those would be if we actually had a history with each other. And as far as I remember we don't," she had the feeling that it was personal.

It wasn't.

Not to him.

"We don't," he said. "But I did know your dad," it was a calculated reply. He wanted to see what she did with it and go from there.

"Section 13's not that big. I figured you would've run into him," she replied dryly. "Still doesn't explain your problem with me."

Well.

Leading up to it evidently didn't work.

So there was only one thing left to say.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**

So what? He knew her father. Big deal. She had expected that. At most there were a couple hundred Section 13 agents in the entirety of the HSAIS. Of course they had said hello to each other at one point or another while passing by on Cronos Station.

As she waited for the man to say something else, Emily wondered if she had broken his concept of how he had planned for this to go down. As his hazel eyes danced around the room, changing between looking at her and what little personal affects she had brought to the cabin, she couldn't help but notice that he still looked far paler than he had on the Citadel or before the fight with the now deceased councilor. Although he hadn't lost any blood, at least not that she knew of, the Eezo drain certainly made it look like he had. As usual, Chakwas had been right. He had left far too early. Why that worried her? She wasn't sure. Maybe it was just the prospect of him passing out all of the sudden and her having to haul him all the way back to the medbay just after the first relaxing shower in days.

"You see," he hesitated before rubbing his neck. "I didn't just run into Alec. He was a friend," her dad had never mentioned that part to her. Then again, why would he? It's not like he could've known she'd run into some of his colleagues. Never mind that now though. She wanted to get to the bottom of this.

"So you have a problem with me because my dad was your friend? How does that work?"

"It's not because he was my," cutting himself off and gesturing for the bed, she again raised an eyebrow. "Alright. You might want to sit down."

"I'm fine standing."

"I still think you really should sit down."

"I said I'm fine standing. Just say it already."

"I watched him die."

"You what?"

Ever since it had happened, the one thing she hadn't been able to shake, the reason she wasn't willing or able to deal with the fact that her father was dead, was how it had happened. But now, seven months later and long past the point where she had come to the conclusion that she'd never know, the answer was seemingly being handed to her. By this guy none the less.

"I watched Alec die and every time I look at you, I'm back to when it happened," he muttered, stuffing one of his hands into the pockets of the unmarked, black and grey marine BDU he was wearing to pull out a black piece of cloth. "That's my problem," he explained before sitting down on her bed and unfolding the roll, revealing it to be a black patch with a single red dagger stitched on it. The cloth looked worn and the colour of the symbol had faded a long time ago. By the looks of it he had carried it around for years. "I got to live when every one else died. A hundred ninety six people and the only reason I walked away was because your dad didn't," after he was done talking, he simply looked at the patch and waited for her to say something. But instead of instantly giving an emotional reply, Emily took a breath and a moment to think.

If his problem was actually a case of massive survivor's guilt, a lot of things made a lot more sense. He couldn't look at her without going back to the shittiest moment of his life and living through it all over again.

She had seen it crack the toughest people and no matter what kind of treatment was attempted, it never went away entirely. It became a part of who you were. When the thought had passed, a realisation struck her. He probably had never been treated in the first place. She didn't think that there were any psychologists in the HSA that had the kind of security clearance for a Section 13 agent to actually go and talk them about an op gone bad. Hell, if she had to take a guess, they were probably encouraged not to talk about it in the first place and to just suck it up and soldier on. In addition to fitting their attitude perfectly, it was basically the worst reaction one could have to that kind of post traumatic stress. It was the surest way to make the worst out of the situation and looking at him staring a hole into the piece of black cloth, Emily figured that this was exactly what had happened. In that moment, she understood the man far more than before. She still didn't agree with his choices or questionable morale code mind you, but she got why he was the way he was around her. To him an op with her felt like the one time everything had gone wrong.

"How'd he die?" she asked after the realisation.

"We got into a bad spot. It looked like we were both goners. That is until Alec gave his life so I could get the intel out."

"I got that part. I want to know is how he died."

"He fell."

"Come again?"That wasn't enough for her.

"We were running from a horde of husks," seven months ago? General Arterius hadn't mentioned that part when he had given her the 'quick' hour-long rundown of their history with the reapers and Harbinger prior to Eden Prime. "And there was this bridge up a head. A really old piece of shit. When we crossed it, the husks followed and about two thirds into the way, the thing came down. I guess we were too heavy for it. Anyways," he said, now looking at the ceiling. "I still don't know how I did it but when it dropped, I jumped and somehow managed to get a hold of the edge and Alec. That's when the bad spot came. I couldn't pull us up, he couldn't climb up on his own and what was left of the bridge wasn't going to hold us much longer. We both had the intel but I was the one holding both of us. So Alec did what he was trained to do."

"Which is?"

"Put the mission first," Morneau replied with exactly what she had feared he'd say. "He slipped out of his gauntlet when I wasn't looking and just like that, he was gone. He died because I hesitated to do what he did. I was thinking about it, you know? Making a stand on the bridge so he could run. But before I stopped, the damn thing broke," when he was done, he pushed himself off the bed and started walking around the room seemingly only to keep himself occupied while she thought about what he had said, the patch still in his hand. While he waited Emily pictured the situation and for some reason simply came to the conclusion that both of them would've died if he had done that. She had looked for the reason why her dad had died ever since it had happened. According to the specialist, he was responsible because he had thought twice about dying for her dad, leading to her dad having to do it for him. It was the perfect equation. Someone she already disliked was telling her that it was his fault. She should've been satisfied, happy to have a face to blame.

So why the hell was the first thing that occurred to her that the guy blaming himself for it wasn't the one responsible?

Maybe it was because at the end of the day she had to face the reality of what had happened. Her father was dead because he had put his job above everything else, including his family. While it was noble and heroic and all that other flattering stuff people said about the dead and the soldier in her recognized it, the daughter was hurt that he'd place everyone else over his wife and kid. And she was ashamed of that because she knew that it was the most selfish thing she could possibly think right now. Biting her lip, Emily finally spoke up.

"The only difference that would've made is that you'd both be dead now," as soon as she had said it, the specialist stopped his pacing. "Think about it. The bridge was going to break no matter where you were standing, right?"

"Most likely."

"So the only reason the two of you even got a chance of surviving was because you did think a moment to long. It's what got you the chance to jump and catch my dad. If you hadn't, you wouldn't be standing here and the intel would be gone now as well, making the entire op and his death pointless," as she listened to her words, she realised that she had to know one more thing to understand why her dad had chosen to put Morneau and the mission over his own life. "What intel were you carrying?"

"Data on Object Theta," when she looked at him in confusion, Morneau explained. "It was the artifact that turned the Ceberus team into husks. When we hit their base, Alec and I managed to uncover some of their research. It's why we know how dangerous Harbinger tech and indoctrination really is. If it wasn't for their data, we would still be thinking its physical contact that gets you. And who knows how many more of our guys would've already been turned against us by now without that info."

"So it was important," she concluded before pushing herself away from the wall and unfolding her arms.

"Depending on how the rest of your mission goes, we might've been carrying the most important data drive in galactic history back then," he replied.

Although it sounded exaggerated, that lone sentence made Emily understand. She got why her dad had chosen to die. It hadn't just been about the HSA or some political power play. It had been about literally everyone, including her and her mother. So despite seemingly putting the mission first, he had actually done it for them as well. He had known the stakes and made the one choice that seemed most sensible to him.

In a way that was closure. Or at least as close to closure as she'd ever get.

"For what's worth it, I'm sorry about your dad," she hated condolences. They always felt empty . But somehow this one actually managed to sound sincere, something only her uncle had managed before.

"Thank you," she muttered. "And thank you for telling me. Knowing what happened to him," she lost track of what she was going to say. "It helps," there it was.

When she was done, both of them realised that neither had anything left to say. So the specialist threw a last glance at her and started to walk to the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck in the process. Only when he had been about to leave the cabin entirely did he stop for one last time.

"Can I ask you for a favour?" he asked while stuffing the patch back into his pocket.

"What is it?"

"Yo-yo and I aren't going to go back to the Citadel. Your pilot will drop us off at Cronos Station," that was news to her. Then again it was quite literally on their way. "So when you get the chance and the quarian happens to wake up while you're there," he said, somewhat awkwardly, "Tell her that I'm sorry for what happened. It was nothing personal, it's just that the mission had to come first."

"No offense but I don't think she'll want to hear that first, from you of all people."

"Yeah, I figured," he replied, his back still turned to her. "Can you still do it, though?"

"Sure," she nodded. "Her name's Tali, by the way."

"I know," he replied with a shrug. "Had to find her somehow, didn't I?"

"So why not call her that?" she asked.

"Because calling her quarian keeps it from becoming personal," he said before leaving her alone.

Alright.

Maybe cold and ruthless hadn't been the correct estimation of his character.

Distant however?

That he definitely was.

Emily frowned while she watched the door close. Then she glanced at her terminal. She had gotten closure but as strange as it sounded, it was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. Right now she just wanted to pretend Eden Prime hadn't even happened yet and to find something to keep her from dialing a priority channel to her mother and telling her the highly classified truth as well.

The best way to do that was to catch up with some old friends.

When the comm-link had been built up and the transmission became stable, a friendly face greeted her.

"Would you look at that. Back already?" the other N7 said, the sound of rain hitting the window of his barrack room accompanying every word. Was it already rain season back in Rio? She hadn't been back in a long time.

"No, not yet. Just got some downtime. You got time to talk, Kai?"

"To you? I think I might just manage to squeeze that into my schedule."

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," she sighed.

"Oh I can tell," the asian man replied. "What do you wanna talk about, Em? Everything alright?"

"Yes, no, Let's just talk about anything, please."

"Anything you say?" She was glad that he didn't push the matter.

"Yes."

"So," he began, a curious smirk spreading on his face. "I heard you're a Spectre now. How'd that happen?"

"It's-"

"Classified?"

"Afraid so."

"So just give me the abridged version," he suggested before leaning back in his chair. "That's anything, right?"

"I guess it is."

And just like that, her mind was occupied.

* * *

 **Two Days Later, 2156 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point, Orbital Military Hospital**

"And we have no idea were the clones are being made or where this Conduit is located?" Primarch Fedorian asked after the conclusion of his debrief.

"Not yet, Sir. The location of the Mu Relay was given to Doctor T'Soni alone and ever since the mindmeld, she's been nearly catatonic. As for the clones, we're completely clueless. The only likely place we can really rule out at this point is Noveria." Desolas said while finishing the report from the bed he had been put in from the moment he had stumbled out of the Parnack's airlock. As he had found out yesterday, a series of broken ribs and a bad concussion had been enough of a reason for him to be sent to Aephus' state of the art medical installation until further notice. In addition to the best and fastest treatment he could get short of Palaven, an added benefit of it was that he could keep a close eye on the much more injured Galviat, who had been placed just opposite to him, a worrying number of machines attached to his arms and torso and an uncomfortably stiff brace locked around the leg he had hurt on Therum and only made worse by repeated stim-pack use.

Stubborn hastati.

"Nearly?" the turian on the other end of the line repeated.

"I was told she exchanged a few words with the commander before going catatonic again. It is believed to be a response to the trauma she suffered by mindmelding with the councilor."

"Which raises a new issue entirely," the primarch sighed. "As I understand, indoctrination can work in many ways, correct?" he knew where this was going. It was a possibility that had crossed his mind from the very moment he had read Callius' report of what had happened after he had passed out.

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you know if the human crew has taken steps to confirm whether or not Doctor T'Soni was compromized by the meld?"

"I don't, Sir."

"That is problematic," the primarch said. "Considering the information came from an indoctrinated source, even if she starts to cooperate, anything she might say to us could be our enemy attempting to deceive us." It was a strategy that's perfectly suit the past methods of the Harbinger.

"Permission to speak, Sir?"

"We're having a conversation, permission to speak is implied, General Arterius."

"What will our next step be?"

"For now we'll have to focus on the threat we know to be real and not a distraction, the krogan clone army your brother is creating. TNI has been ordered to follow the trail of the gear the krogan were using and several Recon groups are deploying to the Traverse as we speak."

"What about the other council members?"

"According to Councilor Sparatus, they will wait for an official reaction until the commander has made her public statement."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially they're shoring up the defenses of the Citadel with more fleets and more troops," he'd be interested to see how that was supposed to help them considering the Conduit was apparently capable of bypassing the station's defenses altogether. At least according to the late councilor. "Furthermore an entire STG infiltration regiment has been deployed to find the cloning facilities from the moment the council was made aware of the problem. Since their deployment, they've also been coordinating with a cadre of huntresses under the direct command of the Republics. Between the three of us, we will find the installation."

"And the humans?"

"Waiting."

"For?"

"For their leadership to be informed. It appears that Shepard hadn't actually reported anything of substance back to them or the Council prior to T'Soni's death."

* * *

 **Six Hours Later, 20. January 2415 AD, Arcturus Station**

"And that's the short summary," Director Rei finished, trying to read the blonde woman in front of him. As she drummed her fingers against the heavy wooden desk, he waited for a response to the field reports he had passed on. Between the revelation of a krogan clone army being bred to serve the Harbinger and his reapers, the death of Councilor Benezia T'Soni, who's retrieval had been the main reason behind the induction of a second human Spectre and the problematic issue that they had no idea whether or not the location of the Mu Relay and this 'Conduit' had already been passed on to the rogue Spectre, it was a lot Chancellor Goyle had to think about. Therefore he'd be patient.

"I believe the short summary would include the fact that this mission has turned into a powder keg just waiting to explode because the commander didn't feel that it was necessary to actually inform us of what was going on."

"The moment our agents learned of the circumstances surrounding the mission, they reported them to us."

"But Shepard didn't. This isn't about your men, Director. It's about the commander."

Technically he wasn't responsible for that. Commander Shepard had left the HSA's chain of command and supervision from the moment she had been inducted as a Spectre. However he still felt like he had to set that part right, if only to prevent the N7 from being disciplined for doing her job to the best of her ability.

"Shepard has been chasing Arterius across the Traverse for the last two weeks on board of a ship surviving simply because of its ability to stay undetected, Madam Chancellor. From what I understand, the geth were right on her trail until they hit Noveria. Reporting something of this size is rather hard under those circumstances."

"Yet she somehow managed to have chats with Anderson and Director Harper," as she pinched the bridge of her nose, Rei tried to come up with a way to still set this straight. "Although I believed that I had already made it clear, I am not Francis Noé. I don't like being overstepped, especially not in matters as important as this one."

"Of course, Madam Chancellor. But you have to understand, following the mission on Feros, Shepard had no time to report back to us."

"Space is big, Director. She had days to give a quick report."

"Which wouldn't have come close to painting a clear enough picture for further action."

"Why do you feel the need to defend her, Director? If it wasn't for a coincidence, your operatives never even would've run into Shepard. You have no real involvement in her mission." It was a justified question.

"Because I know what it's like to be the man on the ground, Ma'am," he replied while folding his hands behind his back. "In some situations, you just have to keep going. There's a time and a place for writing reports, holding debriefs and being accountable. Chasing a rogue Spectre waiting to unleash a galactic cataclysm isn't one. You need sovereignty of action to even stand a chance at winning. Discussing every little engagement prior to your mission's success could spell disaster. During ops like this, every second counts and if you're asking me, the fact that she's being sent to the Citadel to give a public statement is an enormous waste of her time."

When he was done with his honest assessment, Rei waited.

Again.

"You seem to have a lot of faith into her, which is strange given she's not one of your agents."

"Trusting your operatives to make the right call is one of the pillars of running an intelligence service. Besides," he said while looking at Goyle. "There's a reason we choose her to follow in Anderson's footsteps. Just like him, she's capable of working independently and making the tough calls."

"You know that you would've made a great lawyer, Director Rei?" the woman replied to which he could only shrug. The only walks of life he had ever been on were the military and HSAIS. "I'll see if I can find a way to sell this half as well as you just did to the rest of the government. Hopefully they'll sanction a military deployment to combat the threat of a krogan clone army."

"Which I presume will serve them as a justification for engaging in more operations related to Shepard's mission?"

"If they happen to be around while other allied forces are attacked, they will of course defend them," as Goyle started typing on her terminal, likely to summon the ministers and other high ranking officials based around Arcturus, she looked at him once more. "You're dismissed, Director."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rei did as he was told and left, intending to handle a whole different issue altogether, unaware that his success here would drastically alter the mission of a specialist currently doing his part to combat a very different but equally dangerous threat to the HSA.

* * *

 **21\. January 2415 AD, Armstrong Nebula, BC-313 New Dawn**

"What kind of delay are we talking about here, Colonel? Hours? Days?"

"Organized resistance has been broken, Ma'am," the former HSA officer replied from his improvised FOB on a desolate tundra world in the Terminus. Under her orders' a series of assaults aimed at the mining operations of a dozen smaller Terminus factions had been launched by their growing force of veterans, sympathizers and new HSA deserters to continue their efforts of rebuilding the IFSDF to more than a web of loosely connected separatist cells operating from the the Fringe. "But they were far more productive than we had hoped for," it was strange that he made something positive sound so negative. Then again it did mess with their time sensitive schedule. Any minute they spent on the world was a minute the warlord's forces could come closer to retaliating for the lighting strike against one of their mining bases.

"Meaning?" Admiral Drescher asked.

"If we're not interrupted, we should've drained their stockpile of eezo and iridium by tomorrow night," the man said right before a missile explosion rocked the side of a hill overlooking the quarry in the background of the FOB, prompting several of the soldiers working behind the colonel to stop what they were doing and rush out of the tent.

"An interruption I presume?"

"No. Just some stragglers. Nothing we can't handle," he replied confidently.

"Good. Make sure to inform me of any further developments," she nodded. She had faith in Petrovsky. Ever since choosing the right side in the civil strife of humanity, he had proven tenfold why the HSA had considered him a huge asset. His talent for warfare was both impressive and terrifying at the same time.

"Yes, Admiral."

With that the transmission was closed, allowing Kastanie Drescher to move on to the next field report from a similar operation. As she started putting in the encrypted contact information of the strike force responsible for securing a large shipment of palladium meant to assist with the reconstruction of a squadron of derelict IFS corvettes that had been found inside a hidden, long since abandoned supply depot established on a remote asteroid just outside the Fringe Worlds' borders, Captain Taylor came into the room, a tablet in his hands and urgency on his face.

"I just got word from the Makalu, Ma'am," he said, sounding as excited as she had ever heard him. "They're saying that they've been presented with a chance to deal a crippling blow to the HSA."

"Weren't they supposed to evacuate soon?"

"They were but this is huge," the man said before handing her the tablet. It displayed a set of fleet orders procured straight from the dreadnought's command network. According to them, the Makalu and the rest of the Fifth Fleet would be sent to shore up the CDF, the Citadel Defense Fleet, by the end of the week, thus giving the group of IFS operatives still onboard of the dreadnought the chance to use an HSA ship to cripple the biggest symbol of the Council, permanently damaging their relationship with each other. "They'll never recover from this."

As her eyes narrowed, the admiral put down the tablet in disgust.

"Absolutely no. Tell them to abort and progress with the evacuation as planned. Their mission is recruiting HSA officers, not executing suicide missions"

"But Ma'am-"

"We're not terrorists, Ronald. We're liberators. And I'm not Andrej Kamarov. I won't sanction the murder of a hundred thousand people. Be they alien or human. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes Ma'am. Of course, Ma'am," her loyal XO replied quickly.

"Tell them to evacuate as planned."

"Right away, Ma'am."

* * *

 **21\. January 2415 AD, HSASV Makulu, Bridge**

"I'm sorry but we can't hold this deployment back, Specialist. The CDF is waiting for the Fifth to reinforce it. Admiral Kahoku's passing was a tragedy but it can't cause the entire fleet to stand still," Fleet Admiral Ahern, the man in charge of the massive logistical chain necessary to keep the HSA's navy operational, spoke. As it was typical for this kind of interstellar meeting, he was being projected by the black, holographic tiles lining the main communication room of the Makulu's bridge.

"You do realise he was murdered, right?" Redford replied before quickly adding a 'Sir' when he caught the visible annoyance on the hologram's blue face.

"Yes. When I was made aware of your presence in one of my fleets, I was also made aware of the exact circumstances of Kahoku's death."

"So you understand that there's still at least one Iffy on board of this ship who'd probably die to get a chance to have the Citadel in the crosshairs of a human dreadnought."

"If you're trying to suggest that one man could take control of and fire the maingun of an Everest-Class dreadnought, you might not entirely understand the size of the weapon you're standing in."

"I'm trying to suggest that we have a lot more than one separatist operative onboard, Sir." When he had said it, the specialist saw the anger rise to the admiral's face, a man of his standing probably wasn't used to being talked back.

"How so?" he replied with a slow, quiet tone that probably helped him with keeping his composure.

"I looked at every way I could think of, tried most of them myself as well. There's just no way a lone operative could've gotten past all the security and all the measures put in place to keep Kahoku from being measures without having help from the inside."

"I was told you had already vetted the security platoon and ruled them out as suspects?"

He had. After the talk he had shared with Lieutenant Taylor, he had investigated a little more and come to the conclusion that none of the marines tasked with protecting the admiral had had anything to do with the man's assassination, despite it being the most logical possibility. Although they were closest to Kahoku and a number of suspicious circumstances had surrounded their shift, they all lacked the motive and the means.

"I did."

"So what other group could have been responsible for killing Kahoku then?"

He had come up with a decent idea of that at this point.

"I don't know, not yet," he lied.

At this point the only people on the Makalu that he trusted completely were Taylor and the marines of the security platoon. Anyone else, especially the staff that had the ability and the security clearance to listen in on this transmission, was a suspect and had no business knowing that he was onto the game they were playing.

"So you are asking me to delay a critical deployment because of a large separatist force waiting to seize control of a human dreadnought despite not having any actual proof of their existence?"

"Yes."

"This is ridiculous. Even for Section 13."

"I know it's hard to just take my word for it but I'm the man on the ground and I'm telling you that there is a very real chance of one of your dreadnoughts causing the biggest terrorist attack since Kamarov glassed Illyria."

"What you're telling me and what you're proving to me are two different things, Specialist. Unless you give me hard evidence right now, the Fifth Fleet will deploy as planned. Its personal will be recalled from shoreleave by the week's end, and then they'll head for the relay and start the journey to the Citadel."

"Giving the ISF the opportunity of a lifetime."

Redford would've loved to tell the admiral his personal theory but he couldn't. After all, the same people who had given him this off the record chat with Ahern were the ones he considered the most likely suspects.

The military police detachment of the Makalu.

After he had tried recreating Admiral Kahoku's assassination and found that it was simply impossible to do so as long as he stuck to the 'script', the official version of what had happened as presented by the MPs, there was only one other possibility. The official version wasn't the way it had gone down. Although he had initially chalked it up to a faulty investigation, after all military police rarely ever had to solve a murder, the way all pieces from the reports of the first responders to the crime scene investigators and the statements taken by several MP interrogators perfectly aligned to create the story of a single operative had made him suspicious. It was simply improbable that all parts of the twenty-two headed investigation had all made the same crucial mistakes. Unless of course it was intentional on their part.

"I won't hold back a crucial fleet deployment just because you have a hunch that something's wrong, Specialist. Either report to me when you have hard proof or accept that not everything's a grand IFS conspiracy. Ahern out."

With that the hologram faded away and the lights of the room turned back on. Not a moment later the door opened and Colonel Salib, the head of the military police investigation, walked in, eager to her what had been said.

"And?"

"And we're still going to the Citadel." He wasn't going to blame Admiral Ahern for the fact that he had just forced his hand. He was however going to point out that he had warned the man when the inevitable disciplinary hearing came around.

"Then I'll make sure to make the necessary preparations," oh he was sure that she'd make preparations. He just didn't count on them being in the HSA's interest.

"And I'll work this one out of my system," he replied before leaving the colonel with a reasonable explanation as to why he was headed to the marine gym After stopping to quickly change into a more appropriate set of clothes to complete the ruse just in case someone was following him, he found who he was looking for.

"Lieutenant Taylor," he greeted after walking up behind the marine and interrupting his routine by grabbing the bar and helping him hold the considerable weight midway through the exercise.

"Captain Bradford," the marine returned with a somewhat annoyed voice before pushing against Redford's grip and placing the bar in its holding. Next he sat up and rolled his shoulders. "Here for another interrogation?"

"Last time was a statement," Redford retorted. "And no. I actually just have a quick question."

"Alright. Shoot."

"You've run security all over the Makalu, right?"

"Right."

"Including the bridge and the main gun's control center?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"So you know how one would go about seizing control of both of those rooms?"

"What are you getting at, Captain?" he replied before getting up. He sounded understandably worried now.

Time to fix that.

After he had looked around the gym to make sure the other marines were distracted, the specialist pressed a button on his watch and produced his electronic HSAIS identification, which included his real rank, his real name and a red tag reading 'Section 13'.

"I need you to show me how to do it."

* * *

 _Codex: Citadel Defense Fleet_

 _Consisting of turian, asari, salarian and, since their exclusion from the Treaty of Farixen in 2388 AD, also human ships, 'Citadel Defense Fleet' is the name commonly given to the collection of naval vessels, ranging all the way from patrol cutters and corvettes to dreadnoughts and carriers, tasked with protecting the imminent vicinity of the Citadel. While not an official formation due to the Council's lack of a unified military, effective cooperation between the various species contributing to the CDF is guaranteed from the headquarter of C-SEC's own naval elements._

 _Serving as the main point of contact between the various navies of Council Space, the CDF was as much a symbol and_ _deterrent_ _as it was an proven concept. With the exception of irregular drills and whatever combat experience the various ships it is made up of brought with them, the CDF did not see any actual combat from the point of its establishment until 2415 AD when a fleet of geth ships led by the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius engaged them during the turian's attempt to assassinate the Council and seize control of the station so that he may-_

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 _[We have detected that you are viewing a plagiarized version of the Citadel Codex containing false information and harmful VI clients. To protect your omni-tool and data from possible malware, Citadel Codex Application has shut itself down for the time being. To reactivate your Citadel Codex, please contact customer support.]_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **As I expected, the fact that I have vacation improved my productivity! This is the fastest update in the last year, or at least I think it is.**

 **Yay!**

 **Alright, to the chapter.**

 **With Noveria done...**

 **..we're in the endgame now. (there was no other way)**

 **Let's run the checklist of what we achieved today, shall we? It was a happy chapter!**

 **Liara's traumatized! Go Tea- Hold up. That's bad. Really bad. She's the only one who knows about Ilos...**

 **But Morneau got rid of his survivor's guil- wait, that's not how psychology works, is it? He just explained the issue. He didn't actually fix it. And there's also the whole problem about the morale compass, isn't there?**

 **I got it now! Desolas is goo- No. Stop. He's in a medical facility and has to wait things out for now and might not be back on his feet when Vermire hits.**

 **On the bright side Shepard got to talk to Len- ...Oh. She's gonna have to answer a lot of questions from Goyle when this is over, isn't she? Damn it. Not good either.**

 **Well, Redford's still fine- What's that? He'll be in a world of trouble and 'bloody hells' soon enough? S** **hit.**

 **At least the IFS had a great day and all. I guess that's something, ain't it?**

 **...**

 **...**

 **... okay so in retrospective it might not have been a happy chapter after all. I might've gone a bit over board with making the situation shitty right in time for the third and final act of SV's Mass Effect 1.**

 **But dread no(ugh)t! (okay I'll stop the comedy A/N now. I get it. It's not working.)**

 **It's bad but it's not over. Shepard will get her chance to talk to the council in the next chapter and when since this is SV's council and not the canon one, they're actually gonna try and be useful and sensible about it. And STG is also pretty good at their job. I mean come on, they're STG.**

 **(((... also we still have to fill like 50 chapters worth of Mass Effect 2 and 3 so it can't realistcally speaking be over so never mind that...)))**

 **I'm rambling again.**

 **Review and tell me what you thought of one of SV's ... bleaker chapters.**

 **For the record we're at 532 reviews, 834 favorites and 929 follows. (I'll chalk the lack of the usual growth up to the fact that I'm pretty sure we're slowly running out of people who're still browsing this part of FF)**

 **See you around next time.**


	63. The Trojan Horse

**Chapter 63. The Trojan Horse**

* * *

 **21\. January 2415 AD, Cronos Station**

Reapers.

As he listened to his fellow conspirators, Jack Harper couldn't help but feel like the protheans couldn't have picked a less cliched, less creative name for the race that had murdered them to the last.

"I'm afraid that if the Council gives her the all-clear, Shepard will tell them everything, no matter what the HSA orders her to do. After you talked to her, General, she made it clear how she felt about our approach," the commander's predecessor said while Harper himself continued to read the finalized, incredibly long version of Shepard's mission report.

"Will they?" the until recently bed-ridden General Arterius replied, addressing the councilor among them.

"Agent Anderson's concern justified. Irissa and Sparatus have already decided," the salarian councilor and STG operative replied.

"So only a salarian veto could stop them now," he muttered.

"A veto wouldn't just burn Valern cover, it'd raise questions we don't want people to ask," Tao offered, producing a nod form the salarian hologram. "I can't believe I'm saying this but at this point, having Shepard tell the galaxy might be our best move."

"That is if she doesn't include the bits and pieces about Cerberus and Valern," Jack Harper injected half-mindedly while lighting up a cigarette and taking in the heavily dimmed light of the sun Cronos Station was orbiting.

"She doesn't know about Valern," General Arterius injected.

"She said you told her everything," Anderson replied.

"Everything she needed to know to complete her mission," the turian clarified. "The fact that a council member is secretly a STG operative wasn't included in that."

"So we don't actually stand to lose anything from her going public?" Anderson wondered.

"Not much more than we would've lost if we had ever decided to do it ourselves," Arterius replied.

"So I take it I don't have to tell the commander that the HSA is ordering her to stay quiet?"

"No, you don't," the Blackwatch officer said.

"Setting aside the fear of a mass panic for a moment," Harper finally said after having taken a deep breath of smoke, "what's our actual plan from here on out?"

"The same as it's always been. Find a way to win," the turian replied.

"That would be our objective," the Cerberus director pointed out while reading over the autopsy report of one of the husks secured on Eden Prime. Although the process used to create these mindless, expendable shock troops was horrific, it was in equal parts fascinating. At least for someone looking to find a way to turn their strengths against them. With that many implants stuffed in their body, there was bound to be a weakspot they could exploit. "I am asking how we plan on getting there. Other than simply hoping that the combined forces of the Council will be enough to achieve a conventional victory against the race that annihilated the protheans, we don't actually have a strategy."

"This again?" Anderson wondered, prompting Harper to put down the tablet and glance back at the holograms.

"Yes, this again." he replied. "What is it your people say, Valern? Knowledge can fell even the most powerful enemy?"

"Most powerful empire," the salarian corrected.

"Either way," he said, dipping the cigarette into its ashtray, "The reapers are the most powerful enemy we'll ever face. They conquered the most powerful empire in galactic history and didn't leave a single survivor when they were done. Our only way of stopping them is finding out what gave them the ability to do so. Otherwise we'll just end up like the protheans, ruins for those who come after us."

"Tell me, how many men did Cerberus lose while trying to understand reapers, Director? The scientists on Akuze, the entire crew of the Budapest? How many more will it take for you to stop this?" the turian general inquired, causing Harper to start scrolling through the tablet lying on the armrest of his chair.

When he had found what he was looking for and the associated hologram had finished constructing itself a few moments later, he extinguished the cigarette, picked up the tablet, stood up and looked at the holographic depiction of the Leviathan-class ship that had assaulted Eden Prime as seen from the perspective of one of the thousands of soldiers that had died in its wake.

"I sacrificed hundreds of lives to find a way to stop the Harbinger," he retorted. "But compared to how many will die when the first one of theses descends onto Palaven and our only plan of attack is the hope that your guns are actually going to be able to hurt them, that number is minuscule," after he selected another hologram, this one depicting the enormous, scorching crater one of the Leviathan's weapon blasts had caused, Harper went on. "Now you tell me this. How many cities do you think it'll take before you realise that I was right? Cipritine? Elapri?"

"Jack-" Tao began.

"Or maybe Singapure?" he knew that it was a low-blow. It was meant to be one. He was done playing pretend. He had to make his point, no matter how much he alienated everyone else in the process. "What do you figure the death toll has to be before you understand that we can't win against something we don't know how to fight?"

"Jack-" he tried again.

"I'm not done yet," he said, shutting down his former partner, again. "By now you've faced the reapers longer than any of us have, General. But you still cling to the delusion that they're just another enemy you can beat with conventional means. Why? Are you really that stubborn?" after he was finished, Harper waited, looking at the turian officer and trying to read his scarred face. He had little success.

"I am cautious about your methods because the cost of trying to understand the reapers will forever be etched into my bloodline, Director," the general replied in an icy tone. "I admit that my solution is not likely to succeed. It will be a hard fight and most people taking part in it are going to die, " when Arterius took a short pause, his mandibles pressed themselves against his jaw, the one that by the looks of it had been injured a long time ago doing so slightly less than ideal. After he was done with the gesture, he continued. "But make no mistake, the biggest delusion in this room is that this war can be won without having to fill every mausoleum in the galaxy with the ashes of its heroes. There is no easy way out, no clean, quick victory and no hidden superweapon that'll defeat our enemy for us. The only way this ends is with the total annihilation of either them or us. And if that's a prize you're not willing to pay, you've already lost." With that, his hologram vanished, leaving the emergency summit without its technical leader. A moment later, the salarian councilor also cut his connection without a word.

"Goddammit," he heard the first human Spectre mumble before Captain Anderson terminated his hologram as well, leaving just the empty seat of his partner to keep him company. As soon as he figured out where Tao had gone, the door of his office came flying open and the man himself stormed inside.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded to know while marching through his own hologram, the sudden disruption causing the blue projection to be distorted. "We've been over this already," he pointed out while the projectors tried and failed to reassemble the image.

"And I didn't change my mind since then."

"Tell me you didn't do anything stupid," Tao demanded.

"Stupid as in?" Harper had an idea but he still wanted to hear him say it.

"Stupid as in getting even more people indoctrinated while telling us you were keeping your feet still. Stupid as in risking everything we've worked for since the beginning because you're loosing your edge a bit more every day," he listed angrily.

"Do you really think I'd be that careless?" the slightly taller man asked.

"Honestly? At this point I don't know what to think about you anymore. You've changed."

"I've changed?" he repeated. "All I said was what you're apparently to scared to admit to yourself by now. His way won't work and he'll get everyone killed just because he refuses to accept that this isn't just another war he can win his way. The Tao I know would've seen that coming years ago."

"And the Jack I know would be too smart to think that he can actually get information on the reapers without becoming indoctrinated."

"Only if we don't try and find a way to get around it."

"A work-around for indoctrination? You can't be serious."

"Given the odds General Arterius just outlined, I think we have to consider every solution, no matter how big the danger involved in it is or how impossible it seems."

"What you're talking about will destroy the little chance we have at winning."

"Or save every living being in the galaxy from having to take part in a stereotypically turian grand last stand."

"You're playing with fire, Jack," the man said, pointing his finger at Jack's chest.

"Taking risks is part of our job."

"Of my job," he corrected with insistence. Maybe he did hold it against him that he had left Section 13 after all? "Cerberus isn't meant to take risks. It's meant to eliminate them. You're supposed to be humanity's shield, not the ones who drag it into extinction."

"Just like a shield can't protect you if it doesn't get into harm's way, Cerberus won't be able to protect humanity if it insists on staying safe. I'm not trying to drag us into extinction, Tao, I'm trying to save us," Harper reasoned in return.

"You know that I can't tell you to stand down. Noé made sure of that when he created Cerberus," Tao admitted before looking straight into his eyes. "But think this through. You're not lucky enough to get zapped by reaper tech and walk away twice in one lifetime." After the last part of what his former colleague had just said caught the Cerberus director off-guard long enough for Tao to just walk out on him, effectively giving the Section 13 director the last word, Jack Harper frowned, returned to his chair, lit another cigarette and continued to look at the star that was slowly fading away in front of his eyes.

Despite having every reason to be angry or frustrated at his colleagues and their stubborn refusal to see the truth, there was only really one thing the man wondered about in this moment. Would the day when he no longer had to compromize and place humanity's safety over everything else ever come? Or would he spent the rest of his life looking at this dying star, holding out hope for something that was never going to happen and getting his hands even dirtier along the way? Rubbing his brow with the back of his hand and puffing out a small cloud of smoke, he desperately hoped that it would be the former. After all, it'd be a damn shame if he didn't get to see and enjoy the peace he had been fighting for his entire life.

* * *

 **21\. January 2415 AD, Citadel, Presidium, Chambers of the Citadel Council**

Looking back to when she had last been here, the N7 was sure that she had preferred the chambers as empty as they had been back then. With easily a hundred officials, political and military alike, observing her from the several levels above the actual chamber and the three councilors staring her down from their elevated podium, Emily justifiably felt like the attention of the entire galaxy was focused on her.

"Agent Shepard," the Councilor Irissa said, silencing everyone else in the large room. "After processing the reports and data you collected during your mission to rescue the now deceased Councilor T'Soni, this Council has called upon you to make a statement on your findings."

"Given the circumstances of her death, this Council has furthermore decided that you be relieved of any restrictions regarding the classified information surrounding this operation," Sparatus added, addressing her just as much as the other officials and making it clear that he wanted them to hear the full story. "Do you understand?"

"I do."

This was it. The scenario Anderson, Harper and everyone else that had taken part in their decade-long conspiracy to keep what they knew about the reapers and the Harbinger a secret had been afraid of. The moment their secret became public. Or at least known to some people other than them.

Since she honestly had no idea what the officials observing her had been instructed to do with what they were about to be told, she wasn't ready to call this a galactic revelation just yet.

"Please start from the beginning then," the salarian councilor responded, evidently taking care to speak slower than he usually would.

Although the three councilor's already knew everything there was to know, she did as she was told.

Starting with how the beacon had messed with her head and given her a vision, Emily moved on to how she had gone to Therum to save the daughter of the now deceased Councilor T'Soni from being captured by geth and then followed a signal of the rogue Spectre to Feros where she had encountered the Thorian and received the prothean cipher. Then she explained how the aforementioned daughter had helped bring her back from a coma and made sense of the vision the cipher had tried to decipher, which had allowed her to understand that the reapers Saren Arterius was trying to bring back really had been responsible for the extinction of the protheans. After that was done, she went on to how they had gone to Noveria to retrieve a pair of human operatives and then followed up on turian intelligence indicating that Councilor T'Soni was on the world, something that had proven correct when they had arrived at the rachni-infested Peak 15 and battled against krogan clones. After answering a dozen questions in regards to said rachni infestation and krogan clone army and omitting the fact that she had let the queen go prior to the neutron purge because she was sure that the Council would sent someone to correct her decision the instant they heard of it, rendering it pointless in the process, Emily moved on to how they had found the indoctrinated Councilor T'Soni. She then explained the process of indoctrination as she had understood it and went on to describe how her team and their turian allies had been forced to take the matriarch down.

Finally she told them how in her dying moments, Councilor T'Soni had passed the information of where Saren was going on to her daughter, who up to now had remained catatonic as the result of the traumatic mindmeld. While she wasn't sure how long it had taken her, she felt slightly out of breath by the end of what had basically been a retelling of her finalized mission report.

"Thank you for this very detailed statement, Agent Shepard," Councilor Irissa said, silencing the collection of whispers from the people observing the meeting. "That will be all. You are dismissed."

Wait.

What?

That was it? They weren't sending her to take care of anything she had just told?

"What do you mean I'm dismissed?" she repeated as politely as possible after some consideration.

"Your statement was all that we required," the asari explained, somewhat perplexed. She probably had expected Emily to do as she was told and leave. And if it hadn't been for the last couple of weeks, she probably would've done just that. "We see no reason to keep you occupied any longer. You may return to your embassy and wait until we call on you again."

"So you want me to sit around?" If it wasn't for the heat of the moment, she probably would've realised that this wasn't the place to argue with her direct superiors. A lot of people were watching them.

"We want you to remain on standby for when we know how to continue. For the time being, this Council will have to decide on the measures it will take to ensure the continued safety of all of its members. Your presence is not required during this process," the salarian councilor explained, the way he seemed to cut into what the asari had been about to say not going unnoticed by the N7.

"Is that understood?" the turian member finally inquired, his tone far more authoritarian.

"Yes, of course."

And just like that, Emily left the Council meeting. She had held a lot of expectations and none of them had been met. Instead of being told to continue her hunt for Saren and try and stop the reapers, she would now be stuck waiting just like her predecessor, who by the looks of it had already been expecting her in front of the chambers.

"You do realise that this isn't how Spectres are supposed to behave, right?" Captain Anderson asked before turning the way she was going and following her to the C-SEC shuttle waiting for them. "When the Council tells you something, you just smile, nod and do it."

"They want me to sit and wait while Saren goes after the Conduit, Sir. How am I supposed to do that?"

"They want you to wait while they try to find the source of the krogan clone army," the older man corrected as they sat down in the craft. "And about Saren? You said it yourself, finding the Conduit won't happen as long as Doctor T'Soni stays quiet. At this point the only thing we can hope for is that the therapist you brought her to is a miracle worker and gives us some fast results."

"And if she doesn't?" Emily asked right before the shuttle took off and began the short way back to the embassy.

"Then we'll have to figure out something else entirely," he replied, speaking louder to be heard over the sound of the engines. "But we'll cross that bridge when we get there. For now I suggest you get ready for Udina. I'm sure he'll have something to say about what just happened."

"And he can tell me all about after I've finished up some business in the embassy," the younger N7 replied.

"What kind of business?"

"I want to check in on Tali," she replied, leaving out the fact that she and Alenko still had to confront to Garrus about the reports he had sent to C-SEC. "How is she anyway?"

"Better than expected," the other N7 retorted while the C-SEC craft closed in on the embassy. "You don't feel responsible for what happened to her, do you?" Anderson questioned when they began to land.

"If it wasn't for her, we never would've gotten this far in the first place, Sir. The least I can do is thank her for getting us that recording."

"I see," he nodded. "Listen, Shepard. I might be benched for now but if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know. I know what it's like to be a Spectre. Trying to carry all that weight by yourself isn't healthy in the long run."

"Appreciate it, Sir."

* * *

 **Ten Minutes Later, 21. January 2415 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy, Infirmary**

Normally she would've said that it was a good thing that she was about to get two birds with one stone. Anything that saved some time was always welcome.

"If you don't want to do it in here, we could always wait for him to leave," Alenko offered a few moments after she had stopped to think about whether or not this was the right time.

"No, no, I put this off long enough as it is," the N7 replied. "No matter how helpful he's been, fact is that he sent those messages you found to someone. It's about time we figured out who."

"Alright," the lieutenant nodded before asking a question she hadn't actually paid all that much thought to. "Do you think he's dangerous? I mean if it's not C-SEC he's talking to," the biotic went on while she looked at him rest on the chair next to the quarian just like the first time they had talked. Did he still not trust Anderson? Even after everything he knew by now? Talk about paranoid.

"No. I don't think so," she said, going with what her gut was telling her, namely that he was reporting back to C-SEC precisely because he and his superiors didn't trust Spectres, no matter who they were. Besides, if his intentions were hostile, it would've shown by now. He had had ample opportunity to harm them.

"Okay," the man replied before the two of them walked in, the sound of the doors opening instantly drawing the turian's attention.

"Commander, Lieutenant," Garrus greeted before looking at Alenko's face and rising to his feet. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Deciding that she wasn't going to talk around the issue and figuring that the lieutenant would give her the lead on this one just like she had asked him, Emily shook her head.

"No," she said. "We know about the reports you've been sending, Garrus. What we don't know is why you're doing it and who put you up to it."

"Hold up. That's it?" the detective asked, slightly perplexed. "With those grim expressions you just had, I figured you were about to tell me that we'd all be court-martialed for killing a councilor."

"What do you mean 'that's it'?" the biotic replied in disbelief, formulating Emily's thoughts perfectly. "You spied on us. That's a huge breach of trust."

"First of all, I didn't spy on you. I did my job," the turian shrugged casually. "Just like your superiors give you orders I don't know about, Executor Pallin gives me orders that don't concern you. Secondly, I know what it is. I volunteered for the mission."

"So C-SEC put you up to it," Alenko figured.

"Yes. That's what I just said."

"Why not just tell us, Garrus?" she inquired a moment later. "We're on the same side."

"You see, the whole point of my assignment was to determine that last part."

"Sorry?"

"Don't get me wrong. I liked working with you and your crew. They're good people," the detective began. "But personal feelings don't change the fact that you were hand-picked for this mission by the only Spectre Saren Arterius ever supervised before going rogue. That's suspicious."

"So you kept tracks on what I did because you thought I was working with Saren?"

"I made sure that you didn't," he insisted. "And if you did, I would've made sure that people knew and that you would be stopped as well."

"Which meant you weren't just spying on us, you were also ready to take us out if you had to," Alenko repeated.

"If that's the way you want to see it, yes, those were my orders." Garrus admitted before sitting down again. "And before you ask," he added. "I won't apologize for following them. Either of you would've done the same thing." Although she had been tempted to disagree, Emily actually couldn't. If they had switched places, she probably would've done the same thing. Judging by his silence, Alenko was thinking the same. "So. Was there anything else?" Garrus finally asked, sounding surprisingly unoffended by what had just transpired. Maybe it was because to him it really had just been about following orders?

"Not from me," Alenko offered after sharing a look with Emily. "If you need me, I'll be around the embassy."

"Got it," she nodded before watching him leave. "How is she?" she asked the turian when the doors had closed.

"Asleep as far as I can tell," he replied dryly before looking at the quarian. "Your doctor said she wasn't going to knock on the pearly gates anytime soon. I'm not sure what that means or if it's good or bad. Human idioms aren't exactly my specialty."

"It means she's stable," the N7 explained.

"So why not just say that instead of talking about gates?"

"Do you want an answer to that?"

"No. I think I'd prefer not to. It keeps up the illusion that the translator issues aren't just happening because Citadel bureaucrats are slow when it comes to keeping C-SEC up-to-date but rather the fault of your weird human languages. Makes work nicer, you know?"

"What do you mean slow?"

"Do you want me to shatter your image of C-SEC?"

"Well, I know they've got all kinds of dirt on me now. It wouldn't hurt to have something in store myself," that produced a chuckle out of the turian.

"Fair point," he admitted. "It's all fine here in the Presidium where people speak the common languages but once you get to the lower wards and your crowd gets more diverse, you'll run into languages or a dialects our translators can barely make sense of."

"That sounds really problematic."

"You have no idea. Half the time you're patrolling down there, you will talk to someone and know that they understand you perfectly but most of what they're saying just turns into nonsense on your end. I remember this one time, we were trying to book in a krogan just after I transferred to Zakera," as Emily listened to the turian recount his story, she wasn't sure why she was engaging in this kind of small-talk.

Was it because she was glad that the turian didn't seem like he'd carry a grudge over what had just happened? Or was it because she was glad for any reason not to head to Udina right away?

Either way, she'd probably stay a while.

* * *

 **2156 CE, Kepler Verge, Salarian Stealth Cruiser 'Mirage of Halegeuse'**

"That's it. All drives are offline," the gunner reported before sitting up straight in his chair, breaking the focus and the instinctual leaning forward it had taken for him to accurately use the cruiser's anti-missile lasers to cripple the much smaller, more vulnerable cargo ship without the risk of killing the crew.

"Signs of exterior defensive capabilities?" Captain Kirrahe inquired while looking at the large, orange projection of their objective. It was an old volus freighter at least five decades past its prime. But the STG officer was less concerned with the vessel itself and more with what it was likely carrying, mass-produced weapons and, more importantly, armor meant for krogan wearers.

"Negative. I'm not detecting any weapons or smaller craft leaving the ship. It's drifting. Your team can board."

While it didn't rule out the chance of meeting resistance inside the ship, that's all he needed to hear. With a press of a button on the gauntlet of his dark-grey and orange STG armor, he sent a prepared message to the eleven STG operatives he had handpicked for this exact mission from the entirety of the infiltration company he had been entrusted with.

After being tasked to find a facility producing krogan clones at the behest of the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius, who evidently hadn't learned from his people's conflict with the korgan if he believed himself capable of commanding an entire army of them by himself, the stealth cruiser he was for now still standing in, had been sent deep into the Traverse. Here they, the ships of the Union's Third Fleet which consisted of nothing but vessels equipped with state of the art stealth technology that didn't even exist as far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned, had taken up position, waiting for the rest of STG and TNI to tell them what they were looking for while keeping meticulous track of the ship traffic around them.

When word had finally come that a shipping company based around Talis Fia had received funding from a client on Illium, who in turn had been paid by a corporation on Noveria until a couple of days ago when the payments had mysteriously been seized, it hadn't taken the Mirage's captain long to decide that the lone volus transport closing in on their position would be stopped and boarded. And when it had failed to follow the Mirage's instructions, leading to the recent use of force, it hadn't taken Kirrahe long to insist that the STG operatives the Mirage were carrying would be the ones doing the boarding.

After all, why run if you didn't have something to hide?

As the docking tubes connected with each other, the STG operative walked right by the squad of naval infantry guarding their end of the newly created corridor. While the shortest way, they weren't going to use the way their enemy expected. So instead of walking into a possible ambush and being gunned down, he continued to the airlock next to it, stopping only to put on his helmet and check that all of his omni-tool's combat programs were running as they should be.

"Ready?" he asked as he entered the actual airlock and looked at the eleven other operatives while the heavy blast doors shut behind him and the air started to be vented. Between their shotguns, their short range carbines and submachine guns all based around the same modular weapon platform that had produced guns such as the Venom and Scorpion, there shouldn't be anything on board of the freighter that they couldn't face. "Will take lack of objection as a yes," Kirrahe nodded before addressing the salarian closest to the door after making sure his tether was attached properly. "Lieutenant Imnes, whenever you're ready."

Silently complying with Kirrahe's orders, the STG operative wiped his hand over the manual locking mechanism of the airlock and opened the team's way into space. Then, after taking a few instinctual but given the lack of gravity unnecessary, steps back, the point man jumped the gap between the cruiser and the dark-green freighter, the magnetic boots and gloves of his armor allowing him to effortlessly stick to the exterior of the volus ship. After a few moments of cautious waiting and repressing the worry that some kind of exterior defense would be activated after all and gruesomely kill his subordinate, it had regrettably happened before, Kirrahe and the rest of the team followed. Using the time it took him to float between the cruiser and the freighter to check the camera feed being projected on the wide HUD of his helmet, the STG captain noted that the squad of naval infantry had detained a lone volus half-way inside the airlock without the hint of resistance. But he wasn't going to let his guard down just because of something as simple as that. For all he knew, the volus was yet another distraction, or worse, a suicide bomber waiting to be brought into the salarian vessel before detonating his lethal payload and crippling the ship in the process.

That too had regrettably also happened before.

Shaking off the memory just in time to gracefully stick to the exterior of the freighter himself, Kirrahe looked at the lieutenant to see if the next step of their plan was already in the process of being accomplished.

"Override complete, Captain," the STG operative confirmed over the radio, following the reply up with a nod and the disappearance of his omni-tool display.

"First team, make entry," Kirrahe ordered in return, causing his squad to split up. This was the next critical part of their mission. A lot could happen to the four STG operatives that had been tasked with entering the vessel first. In addition to all the traps that could possibly have been planted for them, which was the reason behind Kirrahe ordering a split-up in the first place, there was a myriad of other ways these first four salarians, and also his entire boarding party, could be killed.

The crew of the freighter could overpower them with a surprise attack.

Their cruiser could be forced to leave them behind because the other ship had entered a self-destruct sequence in an attempt to take out their enemies.

An airlock malfunction could main them before they even had the chance to understand what was going.

There could be yet another suicide bomber waiting for them.

Furthermore a freak Element Zero discharge could warp the entire vessel and everything around it into an utterly unrecognizable mes-

"Second squad has made entry, third squad you're clear to follow," the voice of the second-in-command of the boarding, Lieutenant Jenzin, came over the radio, prompting Kirrahe to shake off the escalating series of scenarios and go through with the next step of the plan after effortlessly climbing through the zero-g environment and into the opened airlock before going through the same pressurization process as the two teams prior to him.

"Situation?" he asked the other two STG officers while looking to his left where three merchants clad in the environmental suits typical to their species had been detained and surrounded by a pair of STG operatives. Volus traders rarely indulged in the small comfort of making spaceships habitable to themselves. While it would help them, it just complicated things for all of their clients.

"Compliant," Imnes told him. "Offered no resistance. Sent Private Avot to retrieve their nav-charts and cargo manifest."

"Understood. Will interrogate them personally. Jenzin, secure engine room and shut off drive. Imnes, search vessel for additional crew, cargo and potential hostiles."

"Understood," the two salarians replied in unison before they and their respective squads moved out.

"Cargo manifest?" the STG captain asked the younger operative leaning over the awkwardly small console table.

"Uploaded to your omni," the salarian spoke, dragging out the last syllable for as long as it took Kirrahe to get the transmission, "now."

As he skimmed over the detailed inventory of the ship, he knowingly ignored the volus staring at him.

"Sur'Kesh-Clan, why are you," the merchant spoke before his breathing apparatus interrupted him, "detaining us?"

"Carrying food?" Kirrahe questioned before effortlessly recalling the detailed layout of the ship and their official legal explanation from his memory. "On cargo freighter without refrigeration system or pest-control VI? Clear violation of Citadel Agri Accord 192-21."

"We're not in Council Space," the volus began, clearly full of himself. "And you're not a Citadel patrol. You have no jurisdic-" as the flash-forged tip of an omni-blade was pointed at one of the softer spots of his pressurized suit, the only thing keeping the volus alive in this environment, he stopped listing the reasons why the salarians couldn't be doing what they were doing and listened instead.

"Correct. No Citadel patrol, no Council space, no jurisdiction. Just salarian boarding party and merchants no one will miss," Kirrahe assured him dryly. "Already know you're transporting equipment for rogue Spectre. Will be punished either way. Question now is, do you cooperate, give up location and get sentenced accordingly by Citadel court of law or do you stay quiet, fall victim to pirate raid and are never heard of again?" No one at STG would ask twice if the latter happened. After all, it was his organisation's policy of giving free reign to its operatives that had spawned the principle of Spectres being above the law.

"Rogue Spectre? Pirate raid? I don't know what you're-"

"We cooperate!" another one of the merchants, this one evidently smarter and more sensible than the imbecile in front of him shouted quickly. "The food containers are actually drop pods. We throw the food out, put the armor in them and jettison them at the location our client gives us. It's a gas giant at the the edge of the system the relay connects to. They float in the atmosphere until they're picked up."

"Stop talking already, he'll kill us!" the first merchant shrieked.

"No," the other detained volus countered before taking a long breath and looking at Kirrahe,"he'll kill us."

"Not necessarily," the STG captain replied before making the omni-blade disappear. "Who hired you? Who picks up containers?"

"We don't know. We leave before they show up. We thought about having a look before but the ships that stick around never reappear." He was inclined to believe the volus. It sounded like something the turian would make his geth do to avoid discovery. It'd also act in the merchants' favour in front of a court if they made it that far and didn't end up in a Union black site after STG was done with them.

"Coordinates of gas giant saved in ship computer?" Kirrahe inquired next, a plan forming in his mind.

"Yes!"

"Know how to access them?"

"Of course!"

"Release this one, Corporal," he instructed the salarian standing guard behind the merchant before pointing to the terminal. "Enter the coordinates," he ordered. "But consider that deception will have consequences," the threat didn't need to be elaborated any further. "Lieutenant Imnes, status."

"Status Four. Cargo located. No further crew or hostiles onboard."

"Rig all containers with long range trackers and return to the bridge. Don't interfere with the cargo."

"Understood."

"Mirage for boarding party."

"Come in."

"Prepare to separate docking tube. Will take freighter on brief trip through relay."

"Duration?" that caused the salarian to look at the volus.

"How long does procedure take from this point?"

"Ten hours," the typing merchant spoke.

"Duration will be twelve hours," better to give themselves some breathing room.

"Understood. Initiate silence protocol until your return."

Silence Protocol. It was standard procedure. If the unit separated itself from the stealh ship completely like his plan required them to, they did so in a way that ensured no one could track their steps back to their cruiser. No communication would exist between them until the freighter came back through the relay and broadcasted Kirrahe's unique set of STG identification codes, which he had been trained to never give up, no matter what was being done to him.

"Understood. Boarding party going silent," and just like that, Kirrahe was left to his own devices, which incidentally was exactly the way he and every other STG operative thrived.

* * *

 **Sixteen Hours Later, 22. January 2415 AD, Cronos Station**

Although actually hauling the heavy footlocker that contained his damaged armor all the way from the part of Cronos Station that was dedicated to the Bureau of Field Work to the larger, general HSAIS and Naval R and D part of the station had taken him the better part of twenty minutes, Morneau didn't mind the extra effort. While he had already worked out earlier while making sure that the next time he had use his biotics to the extent they had been needed on Noveria, it wouldn't knock him out again, this was as good of a cool down as any.

As the automated doors up ahead recognized his intention of going through them and opened after a brief scan confirmed his identity and security clearance, he switched the arm that had been dragging the footlocker for a final time and put the last few meters behind him, aware of the glances he caught by the mixture of navy officers, HSAIS techs and rare civilian researchers. He knew what they were thinking. People like him usually didn't come here, it was against the unspoken natural order of Cronos Station for a field agent to bother them all the way up here.

"Really? Again?" a disembodied voice called as he entered the shared lab he had been looking for and looking around. It was exactly as busy as usual. "I just told you. We won't be done with your schematics until after lunch. So why don't you go back to your cyber defense intelligence project or whatever you call it now and bother the people there-" as the woman looked around the corner she had been working behind and spotted him, the first thing she did after stopping her annoyed reply was to raise an eyebrow. "What's in the case?"

"It's great to see you too, Robin," he replied before hefting the footlocker up and placing it on one of the few empty tables in the room, opening it up just in time for the engineer to look inside.

"Christ. What did you do this time?" the dark-blonde woman asked as she picked up the heavily damaged gauntlet and began studying the purple and black burns on what little was left of its armor plating, quickly abducting it and several other small pieces to a spot in the room with better lighting.

"Can you fix it or not?" he asked, about to wipe the sweat of his face with his t-shirt before realising that it wouldn't do much good and just following her the way he was.

"If I put the right materials into requisition, yes, I can fix it," she replied before returning to what she had been doing before his surprised arrival. Not that he knew what that was mind you, all he saw where numbers, a hologram and a machine that looked expensive enough to get close to what the HSA had paid to train him and his colleagues. "Why not just get a new one though? I think this is the third time you asked me to patch the entire thing up."

"I already have a new one," he replied before picking up the damaged chest piece and looking at it. In fact he already had several new sets of armor. "But its just not the same, you know? Me and this guy, we've been through a lot together."

"Do you know how happy your strange attachment to inanimate objects would make a psychologist?" Robin offered. "They'd jump at a chance to study you."

"Can't say I ever thought about it," he replied while putting the piece back into the footlocker and leaning against a table, taking care not to touch anything. There was an order to this chaos that he wasn't going to disturb. "Besides, no shrinks for Section 13. Says so in the small print."

"Does it really?" she replied while pausing for a moment.

"No idea. I never read the small print. Or the contract. I just signed a transfer and ended up here," he shrugged.

"I can't say I'm surprised," the dark-blonde chuckled before sounding a bit more serious. "For real though, what happened to you Daniel? Just going by the armor, it looks like you had a pretty close call."

"Walked through an annihilation field," he offered briefly. It was part of the agreement. Robin fixed his gear, he told her what had damaged it so she could in turn study the damage and start working on a solution that assured other people didn't die to the stuff that nearly killed him. While he wasn't sure how much of a difference it really made in the long run, the fact that Director Rei knew about this deal and hadn't cracked down on him after two years of him doing it told him that at least some good came out of it.

"That's biotics?" she guessed.

"Yeah. Imagine a warp field, just with bigger range and less power," he explained.

"Then it's old news. Can't really do a lot more against biotics on the armor level," she mumbled while looking at the blue hologram.

"So I'll try getting shot by a plasma rifle next time, got it."

"The scientific community of the HSA thanks you for your courageous effort, Specialist Morneau," Robin offered with a mock salute aimed at the hologram.

"I'm sure they do," he smirked before turning to the door just in time for the other occupant of the lab to walk in.

"Oh great. Your spy lad's here. Again," the man in an unmarked naval uniform, which was in turn covered by a lab coat, muttered, his thick accent leaking through every one of his ironic words. Although it didn't mean much to people born in the colonies, the earthborn biotic recognized a scot when he heard one. "What shot him this time?" he asked into the room towards his lab partner, his eyes narrowing. "Did it hurt?" he added more quietly, this time directed at the specialist.

Aidan Ardrey.

Also known as the lab partner, who despite having known Robin Wigmore ever since attending the Arcadian University of Military Technology with her, definitely had gotten the entirely wrong idea as to what was going on between the two of them.

"Aidan, please," the other engineer frowned after turning away from her hologram.

"Don't worry about it, I'm on my way out anyway," Morneau offered before smiling at the man. While he had no intention of getting between the two of them, even if they themselves might not get that there was a two of them just yet, he was still human and did enjoy having a jab or two at a thing bothering the guy every now and then. "After all, the world's not gonna save itself, am I right, Abby?"

"It's Ardrey-" the man insisted while slowly pronouncing his name before the door to the lab closed and Morneau decided to had back to the parts of Cronos Station where Section 13 and Cerberus were situated to shower in time for the briefing.

Sure, he seemed like a decent guy, but calling him 'Abby' and watching him snap back at him the same way over and over again really never did get old.

He might even include that in the wedding speech.

If there ever was a wedding.

And if he ever was invited.

And asked to give a speech.

Yeah, come to think of it, there probably were more likely scenarios.

"Where you at Morneau?" his partner's voice came through the earpiece.

"On my way to a shower. Trust me, you don't want me near you right now," he replied cautiously, the moment it took her to reply already telling him the likelihood of him getting there.

"Skip the shower and hurry up. We've got a threat assessment in the situation room. Something about the IFS and a dreadnought."

No rest for the wicked, eh?

* * *

 **Some Time Later, 2156 CE, Virmire**

The first thing that woke up the Spectre was the throbbing pain in his head. Spirits, it felt like either a krogan had tried and at least partially succeeded in crushing his skull or like the time he and Anderson had included ryncol into their social drinking. Then he noticed that it wasn't just his head that was hurting but his entire body. Finally the bright light of a surgical lamp flooded into his eyes and assured him that he was in a spot far worse than a run-down Citadel motel. With that, the sound of a salarian singing some song to himself also became noticeable. Shaking his head and wondering just where the hell he was, Saren sat up and looked at the doctor, at least he hoped that he was a doctor, and noticed the blue-stained medical instruments he was cleaning. Considering that the rest of the room was a mess and that his blood had exactly the same shade of blue, he got the impression that whatever had happened hadn't gone down with his consent.

"Awake. Surprising," the brown-skinned amphibian observed as the sound of Saren trying to get up caught his attention. "Suggest you lay back down. Procedure was invasive and taxing. After effects might still occur."

"What procedure?" he muttered while rubbing the side of his head and taking a cautious step forward. "What did you do to-"

Before he could finish, the sound of what sounded like an old war horn amplified a thousand fold caused him to fall against the table, allowing him to see a part of his own reflection in the polished metal of the table. The cybernetic blue eyes he saw looking back at him mortified him, causing him to sit upwards and press his back against the surgical table for the short panicked moment it took him to realise that he was in a bad spot and needed to get out of here right now. Shooting up far faster than he would've thought possible, he crossed the room and grabbed the salarian by his head, smashing it into the sink before turning him around and lifting him up with his right hand.

Since when was he this strong?

Nevermind that now.

"What did you do to me? Where am I?" he demanded to know, noticing the fine blue lines running not just under the skin of the salarian's brown face but also his own hands all the way to his talons.

This was bad.

Why couldn't he remember how he got here or where he had been before?

Or when 'before' even was to begin with?

"Interesting," the doctor replied while acid green blood poured from the wound on his forehead. "Procedure seems to have temporarily disrupted link between you and Sovereign."

What Sovereign?

What link?

"I'll ask you this just once more," Saren said as he increased the pressure on the salarian's neck. "What did you do to me? Where am I?" he repeated

"Followed your instructions," the salarian said while gasping for air but being strangely calm in the process. What instructions? He was playing games with him, wasn't he? "Improved you just as reque-" as he felt something snap and give in to his grip after increasing the pressure just the slightest bit, the alien stopped talking and went limp in his hand.

Had he just snapped his neck?

How?

Turians weren't nearly strong enough to-

As the throbbing pain turned into a second-long roaring choir of voices before quieting down to a familiar whisper, the rogue Spectre fell to his knees, the memories of the last months coming back to him in a flash all the way to the point where the news of Benezia's death had forced his masters to take more direct measures. They had been meant to ensure that he would yet be successful in his task. After the blood of an asari matriarch, a being the reapers had deemed far more powerful and far more evolved than him, had been spilled by a lowly human, a race Sovereign had deemed worthy of nothing but becoming cannon fodder to save the other races for the harvest, it had become evident that his normal form wouldn't suffice to complete his purpose on Ilos.

Thus he had been granted a gift.

Power meant to bring about the next cycle.

Flexing his hands and feeling a new found strength surge from his core to his finger tips, he produced a sudden burst of violent biotic energy that devastated the surgical theatre around him, throwing up a large case in the process and allowing him to notice something else entirely. There, lying in the corner of the surgical theatre, was his old armor. Its white top-layer and stylized Specte sigil had been torn off to reveal the bare, grey Juvax alloy below and its helmet had been cut open along the middle of his visor, effectively turning it into two pieces. The sight caused him to remember even more.

How foolish he had been to try and fight what had always been meant to happen in the moments leading up to the procedure where Sovereign had left his mind alone to attend another matter.

Leaving the surgical theatre and stepping over the mangled corpse of an asari technician and a dozen destroyed geth that had fallen victim to his foolish struggle, Saren began walking the halls of his base, no real aim in sight. He simply enjoyed every step that he took because with every moment he moved, the power now flowing through every fiber of his body became clearer.

So this was the fate the galaxy had to look forward to if he prevailed against his foes.

Ascension.

It truly was the greatest destiny one could hope for.

As he passed the communication central of the facility and the dead krogan guards in front of it, the turian was far too obsessed with himself to notice the looped broadcast silently running inside it or to pay attention to the slowly decreasing number of patrol activity in one particular sector of Virmire's jungles.

* * *

 **Three Days Later, 2156 CE, Oma Ker, Sarlik, Grand Mausoleum of Oma Ke** r

As she looked at the ancient weapon and the broken helmet placed beside it, the turian wondered if they'd see more of these where they were going and if yet more Oma Ker would be put to death with it. It was after all krogan that they were going to be fighting.

"The Sixth has finished boarding the assault crafts. Your commanders await your orders, General Quanos."

"Then I shall not keep them waiting," she replied, rising from the kneeling position and looking at the soldier behind her. Like all Oma Ker, a set of vertical yellow stripes marked both his face and the full-face helmet he was carrying in his hands and while his plates weren't the same pale green as hers, a trait inherited from the original settlers of the world, their brown colour did well to contrast his tattoos and green eyes. "What is the word on our warships?"

"Our escorts will arrive in six hours. The rest of our fleets will meet us at the relay a day ahead of schedule. The crews at Aephus volunteered to run extra shifts so that the initial delay could be reduced."

"Excellent," she nodded as she walked through the long hall and looked at the countless small compartments built into the wall. "What about the other Council forces?" This wasn't just a turian operation. Asari, salarians, humans, everyone was throwing their troops into the fire to attack the cloning facility STG had located.

"They're being pulled from all over the galaxy but they should arrive in time."

"Meaning our strike won't be delayed."

"Yes, General."

"Tell me, Major, how many of your ancestors rest here?" she wondered out loud as her footsteps echoed through the mausoleum.

"None, actually," he replied after some hesitation. "I'm not from here."

"Where are you from then?"

"Nowhere, Ma'am," the turian said.

"No one is from nowhere," she pointed out. "Tell me," it was as much a request as it was an order.

"I was born in the Terminus. Some run-down merc outpost outside of the Hierarchy," he sighed, visibly uncomfortable. "Like I said, nowhere."

"A bare-faced heritage, then," the general mused. It explained why his tattoos looked rough and uneven in the spots where the plates were thin and sensitive. They hadn't been made by a professional or a relative who knew what they were doing. He had done them himself, because he hadn't found anyone willing to do it for him. "Yet you choose to carry our marks and fight for our legions. Why?"

It told her a lot about him.

"Because Oma Ker's the only real home I've ever known. They were the ones who took us in when my mother had nowhere to go," the other turian offered. "Made it feel right to use these marks, even if I'm not really a born Oma Ker."

"No one is born an Oma Ker, Major," she explained as they stepped into the light of the distant sun responsible for the boreal climate of their planet. "Oma Ker are forged. War is our fire and battle our blacksmith." Although his rank would traditionally indicate that much, the times when every turian officer had fought in wars and earned his command with blood was long passed. And since he had only been transferred to her command from the auxiliaries a few weeks ago, she felt it necessary to ask. It would affect her strategy. "Have you battled yet?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I served in the Skyllian Blitz."

"A worthy campaign," she noted. "Where did you fight?" That was the most important questions. If he had just hidden behind the actual combat troops and never fired his weapon, he hadn't battled.

"I led a platoon of skirmishers, Ma'am. Salarians and batarians from the Terminus," so other outcasts like him. "We helped relieve Camelot. Ran interference on the batarian supply lines and helped take down some of their staging points. Lost some good men while we were at it."

That answer was enough to please her.

"Ignore the looks the younger officers will give you," she advised as they walked to the shuttle. "They might not know it but you and the men you led are more Oma Ker than most of them. It will be my honor to fight with you, Major Kryik."

"Thank you, General. The honor's all mine."

* * *

 _Codex: Turian Auxiliary Corps_

 _Just like the other corps of the turian military, the auxiliaries are troops attached to but not actually part of a regular legion. Tasked with duties ranging from maintenance and logistics to reconnaissance and sabotage, the Turian Auxiliary Corps, despite its name, consists mostly of non-turians._

 _With only roughly twelve percent of non-Hierarchy born turians among its ranks, the majority of the TAC is made up by volus and Terminus-born salarians and batarians. Although asari recruits are accepted by the TAC, they and any other biotic auxiliaries are placed in specialized cabal teams and sent to the Turian Cabal Corps for further training and use. While not confirmed by any official sources and denied by most credible experts as outlandish, it is furthermore rumored that the TAC maintains a hanar task force consisting of several hundred religious exiles. These individuals are claimed to be trained for aquatic warfare in the same manner as depicted in the fictional film series 'Blasto'. (See Codex Entry 'Blasto')_

 _Although the prospect of escaping certain parts of the galaxy is considered enough of a reason to join up with the TAC, the main pull for most auxiliaries is the fact that the end of the service whether by time, injury or death, earns them full Hierarchy Citizenship. Considering the difficulty of obtaining Council citizenship for Terminus natives and the rumored discrimination against certain species, enlistment with the TAC is considered the 'easiest' method of gaining entry into Citadel space for ones family._

 _It should be noted that upon the completion of service is not uncommon for the non-turian veterans of the corps to adopt a variation of turian facial tattoos._

 _While always having been a popular destination for batarians looking to escape their own government, the separation of diplomatic relations between the Council and the Batarian Hegemony and the destabilization of the latter following the Skyllian Blitz has caused a vastly increased number of batarians to flood into the ranks of the auxiliaries. With more of them finishing their terms and obtaining full citizenship every standard year, this combined with the already existing batarian communities on turian colonies has led to the creation of an entirely new subculture within the Hierarchy's colonies and cities. As masses of batarian children are born free of the tyranny their parents fled from, growing up alongside their turian peers and being raised in a strange blend of both cultures, the question of how they are to be included in the mandatory civic service has been raised._

 _While in the past most of these children choose to follow in their parents footsteps and join the auxiliary troops to make up for their lack of access to the traditional path of young turian adults, law givers all over the Hierarchy have began to point that from a pure legal perspective, this growing number of eligible and willing citizens have a right and a responsibility to be included in the mandatory thirteen-year service._

 _As of now, the exact outline of how this will be achieved has been moved to the Council of Law Givers on Palaven._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **In advance, let me apologize for the chapter title. I just had to, no matter how often its been done.**

 **Nihlus arrived!**

 **Better late than never, right?**

 **So for some reasons I may or may not outline, his life went similar... but still very different from canon. Now obviously Anderson took his place as Saren's protege but as to why he ended up in the auxilaries and with a very different "home planet", that's a story for another time. Although I'm sure you can piece it together. Merc Camp. Terminus. SV-Timeline. You got this.**

 **Other than that, we are taking big steps to the Battle of Virmire. I intentionally left it vague how many days pass after Kirrahe does his thing because well, I like vagueness.**

 **Other than that that... not really a lot to say, there are a couple of words (and people) in this chapter that are building to ME 2 already. I feel like the EDI shoutout was obvious but what probably wasn't is that those two science guys are going to turn up again. But more on that when we get there.**

 **Other than that that that, yeah. Garrus confrontation (check) Council Summit (Check), we're cleaning up the plot threads nicely.**

 **Also I just had to mess with you by giving Saren that moment of clarity/amnesia. I couldn't resist it, sorry. (To this day I still regret what I had to do to him.. he was such a nice dude in SV.)**

 **So yeah.**

 **That's most of what I have to say.**

 **Review and let me know what you think.**

 **For the record we're at 543 reviews, 840 favorites, 936 follows.**

 **See you around next time.**


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